Seven Days With Mr Darcy

by Rose Fairbanks

  Richard seldom wrote. Darcy attempted to read between the lines. His cousin was undoubtedly involved in a flirtation with Lady Aurora, but if it were a legitimate courtship with the intention to marry, he was less confident. Knowing Richard, neither was he. Bingley had not written at all—which was certainly not out of the ordinary. No one mentioned Elizabeth—even Georgiana, who he had explained nothing to—and so Darcy assumed she was to marry Marshall and they were kind to avoid mentioning it. Although he received the London papers, he refrained from perusing the notices and threw himself into work.

  At the bottom of his mail stack was a letter Darcy had been dreading. It was in Mr. Gardiner’s hand. The time of his possession of the estate he chose was rapidly approaching. Undoubtedly, the note contained information regarding the transaction and determining dates. The Gardiners would be staying at Pemberley while the servants set up the house.

  Frowning at his cowardice, Darcy picked up his letter opener and unfolded the paper. Yes, Mr. Gardiner confirmed the dates of his arrival. He asked if his niece and her betrothed would be welcome to come as well but did not name them. Darcy’s hand shook, and he struggled to continue reading. He had never expected to see Elizabeth at Pemberley. The thought of seeing her married or courting another man and residing in his house filled his heart with lead. He rubbed at the ache in his chest.

  “When will I put you behind me?” Darcy muttered aloud. He always knew he would love her forever. However, he did not expect to continue to feel such visceral pain. On the other hand, it took him twenty years to overcome separation from his mother. It had only been just over two months since he proposed to Elizabeth.

  The candles had burned low in his study before Darcy pulled out writing supplies to reply to Mr. Gardiner. The servants had alerted him to dinner and had brought in a tray when he claimed to be too busy to leave. He had not touched it. While alone at Pemberley, he never bothered with a real supper. Tea and a light repast in the study was enough for him. The clock struck ten and Darcy knew a maid would arrive soon. Mrs. Reynolds would cluck at him in the morning for wasting the poor cook’s time and talent.

  Once he believed he could write in legible hand and with a semblance of a calm mind, he answered Gardiner’s questions and welcomed his niece and her betrothed to his home. Darcy had a request of his own. Georgiana’s birthday approached, and this year she requested to spend it at Pemberley. Richard could not leave Town and riding with the Gardiners would save Darcy a trip. Additionally, he could spend the coming weeks planning festivities for her. What could be better than her celebrating with her dearest friend, Elizabeth?

  Darcy had never dreaded a fortnight more. He spent the time advancing his plans for the school and work placement. Freddie and Tom wrote to him from London. Richard had taken to visiting when he could, partially filling in the hole Darcy left. He missed the boys but knew he needed the distance from Town. If they expressed interest, he would be more than happy to finance their education and apprenticeship in Lambton. However, he thought they would miss the bustle of the large city.

  Recalling what he said to Richard the night of Marshall’s ball, Darcy asked his solicitor to look into the legalities of adoption. He would not remove Georgiana’s stake in Pemberley yet. However, she had already been the victim of one fortune hunter. As heiress to an estate, she would be even more susceptible.

  In the mornings, Darcy tended to the improvement of his charitable legacy and business letters. In the afternoons, he rode over the fields with his steward and talked with tenants. Working from sun up until sun down had proved an efficient way to almost avoid recalling that Elizabeth would soon be under his roof but not his to claim. Almost, but not entirely. Never able to control his active imagination, she featured in his dreams. In the netherworld between reality and fiction, they lived and loved, and Darcy had never hated the rise of each morning’s sun more.

  *****

  The dreaded day arrived. Eerily like his nightmare, the sun rose as if there was no threat of Darcy’s heart shattering on this day. The only signs of darkness were his own attitude as he almost barked at every staff member he came across. His restless legs carried him to the rose garden.

  Life-like memories of his nightmare circled him. Elizabeth in his arms for their first real kiss under the arbour. The weight of her in them as he carried her dead body down the lane. The cold and imposing stone above her grave.

  “Let go,” he said to himself.

  He had held on too long to his mother, and it nearly ruined his life. Not her actions, not his father’s indifference, not Wickham’s cruelty, but his own actions. Realizing his culpability gave him enormous freedom and allowed him to feel lighter than he ever had before.

  “Elizabeth chose another.”

  Truthfully, it had been no contest. He never attempted to separate Marshall from Elizabeth. He never tried to put himself in a better light. He respected her opinion and wanted her happiness.

  A gentle breeze lifted the scent of roses to him, and a smile crept across his lips. He could not change the past. He could not shape the future. His only choice was to accept the present and learn to take the good and the bad.

  He had tender memories of his mother, not just of being separated. Georgiana deserved to know more of Lady Anne. Telling her the truth of her birth after she nearly eloped with Wickham had devastated the girl. Darcy had not said more on the subject as he had tried to put the world into compartments of black and white. Now, he saw things differently, and his sister should know of the good of Lady Anne Darcy.

  Likewise, Darcy had positive remembrances of time with Elizabeth. The way her face glowed walking in Rosings, their conversations and teasing in London. If she were to come to his home, then he would merely enjoy her for as long as he could. She deserved to see all that Pemberley had to offer. His failed ideas of romance should inhibit nothing. If she would not stay with him for always, he could at least see her eyes sparkle as she inspected the grounds. That would be a memory he could cherish for ever.

  With a renewed spirit and resolve to extend friendship to Elizabeth, Darcy returned to the house just in time for a runner to tell him the carriages had passed the lodge. Reminding himself to breathe and forcing his legs to lock in place rather than wear the carpet thin, Darcy waited in his study until he heard the crunch of wheels on the drive. Then he removed to the front portico*. Three carriages rolled to a stop and coachmen scurried to open doors. From the first, Bingley climbed out, followed by Miss Bennet and Georgiana. She jumped up and down and waved her arms. Saying something to the others, she turned to climb the steps.

  While Georgiana advanced to him, Darcy’s eyes watched the other carriages. A governess and children spilt out of one while Mr. Gardiner exited another. Holding out his hand, Mrs. Gardiner stepped down. Where was Marshall? He ought to have exited before the ladies. Instead of a gentleman’s boot, a dainty slipper extended to the ground. Pulling his eyes up from the lady’s feet, Darcy hungrily scanned the gown and form. Heart hammering in his chest and blood rushing so forcefully his head began to ache, he blinked his eyes once, twice, a third time.

  Elizabeth.

  Alone. Without Marshall. A hundred questions flitted through his brain one second, and then it went utterly blank. She smiled up at him, and Darcy thought he might pass out and roll down the steps. Cloth filled his mouth, he could not speak, even as Georgiana greeted him and attempted to redirect his focus. He could not control his mouth, but his legs propelled him forward on their own. Leaving his sister behind, Darcy lumbered down the steps. Ignoring the call of Bingley and not even sparing the Gardiners a glance, he stopped right before the only one who could make his life complete.

  “You came,” he said, his eyes gazing into hers.

  Elizabeth said nothing but blushed and glanced down.

  “Elizabeth,” he whispered like the most fervent prayer he had ever uttered.

  Her eyes flew to his, and her breath caught, but she did not look away.

 
“Am I dreaming? Are you real?”

  “Are you?”

  Her words confused him, and he took a moment to fully take her in. She appeared thinner, dark circles were under her eyes, and uncertainty filled her gaze.

  “What has he done? Did he abandon you?”

  “He? Who?” Confusion etched every line of her face.

  “Marshall,” Darcy growled out. “I understood you were to arrive with your be—” Darcy’s eyes slipped to Bingley and Jane. They gathered with the others on the steps. Mrs. Reynolds had come outside and now talked with everyone as Darcy shirked his duties as host. They were the engaged couple.

  “We have had another one our misunderstandings, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said, drawing his eyes back to her.

  “We have,” he agreed. Was her worn expression because Marshall tired of her or because Darcy had abandoned her? If the latter, he would never forgive himself but he could scarcely hope it.

  “I owe you a secret,” Elizabeth whispered. She looked down at her feet and took a deep inhale before returning her eyes to his. “I was desperate to come to Pemberley.”

  “Were you?” Darcy could not keep the astonishment from his voice. “Perhaps Longbourn had become unbearable?”

  “I will not deny it added to my feelings, but I wished to see my friend…that is friends…again.”

  Darcy scrutinised her expression. She had coloured while speaking and seemed to waver between boldness and shyness. Her eyes bounced between sadness and fear. They pleaded with him to know something, to accept something from her. What did she wish to say but felt she could not? Darcy could not allow himself to hope.

  “Your guests are waiting, sir,” Elizabeth said, blushing all the more as she looked up at the others who attempted to not watch their conversation.

  Darcy did not care. Let the whole world know. He loved this woman and if putting her at ease made others feel uncomfortable then they would have to wait and be thankful for his attention.

  “Come, then,” he stretched out an arm. “Welcome to Pemberley, Elizabeth.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  As Darcy finally greeted his guests and guided them through Pemberley after brief refreshments, he could not stop grinning. Elizabeth belonged here. She belonged at his side. He knew it more than he knew anything in the world. Now and then their eyes would meet, and she would blush. Hope swelled in Darcy’s heart. Perhaps, finally, she understood that as well.

  They needed to talk and clear their most recent misunderstanding. Had Marshall ever proposed? Did he break it off or her? Either way, her reputation could be damaged, but Darcy did not care. Once, he might have worried that Georgiana’s reputation could be tarnished by who he chose as a wife and he was willing to sacrifice his desires for her sake. Now, he cared nothing for the opinion of strangers. Anyone that knew Elizabeth could see her qualities.

  After the tour, his guests chose to retire to their chambers to rest. Darcy inquired with Mrs. Reynolds about all the arrangements. Elizabeth was an unexpected addition, and Bingley’s preferred room was unprepared as Darcy had expected Marshall to arrive. He also spoke with her about the ball planned for Georgiana in a week’s time. He had invited several Darcy family members as well as a few neighbouring gentlemen and their families. Apparently, his cousin Stephen disagreed with Darcy’s latest ventures and spewed vitriol all over his reply. However, he would come, never one to miss an opportunity to enjoy all Pemberley had to offer. Darcy rolled his eyes and put the missive aside. He had no patience for such antics right now.

  How many times had Elizabeth seemingly slipped through his fingers? He could hardly credit her change of opinion about him when she seemed indifferent in London, but he would do nothing to risk it now. For the first time in his life, Darcy felt he was on the cusp of obtaining greatness.

  A noise in the hall brought his head up from other letters and duties. He had left his door open in case someone—hopefully Elizabeth—would need to speak with him. Leaning to one side, he could see her figure through the doorway. She peered up at an old tapestry hung by some Darcy long ago. Happily putting aside his work, he silently approached.

  “Splendid, is it not?” He asked, and Elizabeth started.

  “Heavens! Forgive me for not hearing you,” she laughed.

  “There is nothing to forgive. I should apologise for startling you. I had not intended it.”

  “Tell the truth,” she arched a brow and smiled. “Were you spying on me?”

  “Hoping for the opportunity to speak with you, yes.” Darcy stared down into her face. Some of the signs of anxiety and sadness had eased. “Did you rest well? I am sorry you are not in a more spacious apartment.”

  “It is beautiful,” she breathed. “Yes, I did rest well and feel quite renewed. I suppose you did not know I was coming. I apologise if it was impertinent—”

  “Your arrival was unexpected, but that is not to say unpleasant.”

  “High praise, indeed.”

  “I did not mean…” Darcy took in Elizabeth’s smiling face. “You are teasing me.”

  “A terrible habit, I am afraid.”

  “I find it refreshing,” he smiled. Dinner time approached, and he did not want to continue wasting time in frivolous discussion. “The grounds are magnificent, and I think you would enjoy them immensely. Would you allow me to escort you on a walk in the morning?”

  Elizabeth beamed. “I hoped you would.”

  “Perfect,” he said. “Utterly perfect.” Staring into her eyes, Darcy hoped she understood that he meant her not their plans.

  “Here you are, Lizzy,” Jane said from down the corridor, Bingley at her side. “We expected you to sleep longer after your illness.”

  “You were ill?” Darcy asked.

  “Jane worries too much. I was never ill.” She sent her sister a look of unspoken words.

  The others arrived before any more could be said and they adjourned to the drawing room until called for dinner. The meal passed with more enjoyment on Darcy’s side than he had ever experienced in the house. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner had none of the stiff formality that his family did, and their nieces were equally unaffected. Bingley could be nothing but gregarious and finding amusement in all things. Skipping the separation of the sexes in favour of retiring early, they all joined in drawing room Darcy had refurbished for Georgiana, complete with a new pianoforte. She and Elizabeth took turns playing. Too soon for Darcy’s liking, Mrs. Gardiner asked to retire, and the other ladies followed her lead. He could understand the days of travel wearing on her in her situation. Bingley and Gardiner stayed up for billiards and brandies but soon took to their rooms. Darcy could hardly sleep for the anticipation of the following day.

  *****

  Darcy paced the hall below the central staircase early the next morning. He did not clarify a time with Elizabeth. How stupid of him! He recalled from Rosings that she walked after breakfast. He had hoped she would arrive before the meal so they could be assured privacy. Otherwise, they would likely end up with other persons accompanying them. Perhaps that is what she wished, though.

  He heard footsteps and glanced up. Elizabeth smiled down from the top of the staircase in a walking dress of yellow with green trim. He had seen the same attire before, and while ladies of the first circles of Society would be embarrassed to wear the same thing so often, Darcy thought the outfit beautiful and perfectly reflecting the character of the wearer. She blushed under his gaze, but his eyes followed her the entire way down.

  “You came,” he breathed as he bowed over her hand.

  Elizabeth’s lashes fluttered, but she smiled. “And you are waiting.”

  “I could not sleep,” he answered bashfully.

  “Nor I,” she said.

  A servant arrived with their outerwear and Darcy extended his arm to take her about the garden paths. The entire walk was a longer distance than they had time for this morning, but they could attempt it another time.

  “Come, we must have some conversation,” Elizab
eth teased and squeezed his arm lightly.

  Darcy’s heart convulsed. Did she have any idea what she did to him? “As always, I will say whatever you wish.”

  “Then allow me to observe that your gardens are the most beautiful I have ever seen. They were left so natural and not artificially restrained in the Greek manner.”

  Darcy nodded. “I do not think my father had any stylistic impressions. Mother favoured the fashionable gardens like Lady Catherine, but after she was sent away, I think he allowed things to grow wild.”

  “I am sorry,” Elizabeth glanced at her feet. “I did not mean to bring up a painful subject.”

  “It does not distress me,” he gently squeezed her hand with his free one before allowing it to drop again by his side.

  Elizabeth let go of his arm and examined some flowers out of his reach. He felt the loss acutely.

  “What is down there?” She pointed near a copse of trees following the stream to the walled rose garden.

  “Roses,” his voice was thick with longing.

  Elizabeth smiled and then started off running at a slow speed. “Catch me up,” she called over her shoulder.

  After recovering from his shock, Darcy followed after her. His longer legs reached her in seconds. Then they ran neck and neck through gardens, replacing talk of unfaithful spouses with laughter. Once inside the walled garden, she came to an immediate stop. She spun in a circle and grinned. Seeing the arbour in the corner, she ran off again. “Chase me!”

  More prepared this time, Darcy reached her almost immediately and grabbed her hand, pulling her to the arbour with roses climbing over it. It was reckless and ridiculous. He a grown man running around the garden in a way he had never had the freedom to do as a child. Chasing after a woman whose bonnet began to slip off her head and curls tumbled free. And he could not stop laughing or smiling. Elizabeth, only Elizabeth, gave him this precious gift of feeling free in his own skin.