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Uncle Edward laughed heartily. “Do not distress yourself, lad! You have fed the most demanding guests in the room. We shall manage the remainder of the tray ourselves.”
Bates executed a hasty bow and fled with remarkable speed.
Elizabeth observed the footman retreat. In her eyes, the intimidating grandeur of Pemberley was undermined by the absurdity of its inhabitants. Between the clumsy servant, the biscuit-stealing hounds, and the witty heiress, the estate was not as bad as she had feared.
Miss Darcy poured the tea, and Elizabeth accepted a cup.
She picked up her teacup, her thoughts drifting inevitably back to the master of the house. He had spoken of her frequently to Georgiana, and he had observed her in Kent with enough intensity for his cousin to notice.
She took a slow sip of the excellent tea. The next few days were going to be unpredictable, and despite the oppressive presence of Lady Catherine stalking the gardens outside, Elizabeth found she was no longer eager to escape.
Her gaze kept drifting to the passage, anticipating the moment a tall, dark-haired gentleman might appear. Pemberley was full of surprises, and she was ready to discover them all.
As the afternoon progressed, the conversation flowed easily. Uncle Edward recounted an amusing incident involving a stray goat in Cheapside, sending both Miss de Bourgh and Miss Darcy into fits of unladylike giggles. Aunt Madeline discussed the latest fashion plates from Paris, assuring Miss de Bourgh that her complexion would be complemented by a deep emerald green, a colour Miss de Bourgh admitted her mother routinely banned from her wardrobe.
Elizabeth noted the effortless manner in which her relatives integrated themselves into this sphere. They had no titles and owned no grand estates, yet their natural intelligence and warmth made them superior company. A surge of pride overwhelmed her. Mr Darcy had insulted these very people at Hunsford. If he wished to earn her good opinion, he would have to prove he could recognise their worth.
“Miss Elizabeth,” Miss de Bourgh murmured, leaning closer while the Gardiners debated the merits of a new novel with Miss Darcy. “You are very quiet. I fear my earlier intrusion has ruined your peace.”
“You have not ruined my peace, Miss de Bourgh,” Elizabeth assured her, offering a sincere smile. “I am enjoying the conversation. It is a rare pleasure to find such agreeable company when one expects quite the opposite.”
Miss de Bourgh’s lips curved knowingly. “You expected a house full of stiff formality and endless lectures on propriety. You expected my mother.”
“I admit, the prospect was daunting.”
“She will return soon.” Miss de Bourgh sighed, glancing at the windows. “And will demand a full accounting of our afternoon. She will insist I drink a foul-tasting tonic, and she will likely instruct Miss Darcy on the proper method of holding a teacup.”
“Then we must enjoy the tranquillity of this hour. A biscuit stolen by a hound and a conversation devoid of instruction. It is a simple pleasure, but a sweet one,” said Elizabeth.
Miss Darcy turned from Uncle Edward, her eyes bright with amusement. “We shall need many pleasures to sustain us for the week. I propose we spend as much time in here as possible. The lighting is excellent, and Bates provides endless entertainment.”
“An excellent idea,” Uncle Edward agreed, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “I shall develop a fascination with the library. I am certain I can occupy myself for hours with Mr Darcy’s collection if the situation demands it.”
When the inevitable sound of Lady Catherine’s demands came from the entrance hall, signalling her return from the gardens, the occupants of the drawing-room exchanged knowing glances, united in their quiet endurance of the approaching storm.
Elizabeth stood as the matriarch swept into the room, her gown covered in a fine layer of dust, her expression thunderous. The formidable lady launched into a tirade regarding the inadequate spacing of the rose bushes, ignoring the greetings of her niece and daughter.
Elizabeth glanced at Miss de Bourgh. The heiress offered a barely perceptible nod. Elizabeth Bennet found herself settled comfortably among the Pemberley residents, prepared to face whatever Lady Catherine chose to unleash next.
Chapter Four: Havoc of the Hounds
Fitzwilliam Darcy, a gentleman of consequence and ten thousand a year, was cowering behind his own desk.
A blank sheet of paper rested in front of him. An unused quill lay dry beside the inkwell. He was ostensibly reviewing the quarterly tenant ledgers. In truth, he was hiding.
A sensible gentleman recognised the sheer impossibility of reasoning with a hurricane, and Lady Catherine de Bourgh was no less formidable. Since the arrival of the unexpected guests, his meticulously ordered existence had dissolved into madness. He required this quiet sanctuary to untangle his thoughts. Foremost in his mind was the pressing necessity of avoiding his aunt’s marital demands without causing any further distress to Anne. The young woman was already miserable enough without absorbing the full impact of a public refusal.
Yet, Anne’s predicament, however unfortunate, paled in comparison to the even more pressing reality occupying the guest wing.
Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
Darcy had spent the preceding two months attempting to banish her memory, to mend his shattered pride, and to become a gentleman worthy of her respect. Now, she was under his roof, forced into his company by the very aunt who had unwittingly provided him with a miraculous second chance.
He needed a plan. He needed to demonstrate his altered character without overwhelming her, and to prove that he no longer harboured the unyielding pride she had so rightfully condemned at the Hunsford parsonage.
The clock in the corner chimed the fifth hour.
Darcy abandoned the pretence of work. He rose from the chair and opened the study door. He navigated the passages of the ground floor with extreme caution, deliberately avoiding rooms, in fear of encountering a certain aunt and receiving another lecture regarding his filial duties.
