Most Ardently
Page 25
Chapter Twenty-Four
In Which Elisa and Darcy Warm Up (Just a Bit)
“You came,” Darcy said, surprised when Elisa approached her in the gift shop the next afternoon. Most of the museum’s guests had left for the day, save for a few stragglers who were looking at Pemberley’s many souvenirs.
“I said I would,” she replied.
“Yeah, I just… After everything, I wasn’t sure if…”
Elisa gave her a small smile. “Look—what’s past is past,” she said. “Let’s try to start over. Clean slate. We both screwed up and said stupid things, and… I’m trying my hand at not going solely off my first impression.”
Darcy nodded, attempting a smile of her own. “Clean slate,” she repeated.
She led her out to the parking lot, where a car waited for them. The two got into the back seat, climbing awkwardly over each other as they tried to get themselves settled.
“How has Willow been?” Darcy asked when they were finally seated. “She texts me quite frequently, but I wouldn’t put it past her to not tell me if she’s been causing trouble.”
Elisa laughed. “Willow’s great. Our Communications prof loves her, and she’s getting pretty good at ASL, too. Oh, but apparently, she’s going to Miami over spring break to defend her title of ‘Kween Kush of Bal Harbour Beach.’ So, the vacation pics should be interesting.”
Darcy snorted. It was both very un-Darcylike, and very adorable. “She told me about that. I tried to get my aunt to stop her, but she just said, ‘If you think I can control Willow, you haven’t been paying attention for the past nineteen years.’”
As they talked, the car whisked them away from the crowded, busy part of the city and then past it. Elisa remembered what Willow had said about her and Darcy not living in the city. They went through a suburb, the houses become larger and farther apart the longer they drove.
Finally they came to a huge gate, and the driver leaned out the window to reach a small, computerized panel. He put in a long and complicated security code as Darcy said, “The main house is a bit farther back. Sometimes during the nice weather, I like to bike out of here instead of taking a car, but when it gets too hot, it’s murder.”
“Wow,” Elisa said, still staring out the window. “Willow told me your property was huge, but I had…no idea.”
“It’s been in my father’s family for years,” Darcy said. “I honestly can’t imagine living anyplace else. It’s home.”
“You said ‘the main house.’ What else is there?”
“Oh—there’s a guest house, a pool, a tennis court, a stable—though my family hasn’t owned horses in years… There’s the gardens, and the family graveyard.”
Elisa stared at her.
“It’s a bit morbid,” she admitted. “I hardly ever go down there anymore. I mostly stick to the main house—and my guests tend to be ones I like to stay there with me, rather than out in the guest house. Actually, the most use the guest house ever got was when my parents were arguing and my mom felt that staying in there would make her point more easily than having my father sleep on the couch.”
The house was visible in the distance a few minutes before they actually reached it. It was even bigger than Pemberley, and even more beautiful. Elisa couldn’t keep her eyes off of it. She’d imagined what Darcy’s home might look like many times, but nothing she’d dreamed up with had even come close. It was made of white marble, seeming both modern and ancient, with several balconies and a long flight of stairs leading up to the entrance.
The driver stopped, letting them out of the car. Elisa stood at the bottom of the stairs, still staring at the house.
“Do you really own this place?” she asked.
Darcy nodded. “Technically. I’m still learning the ins and outs of owning this much property, but my uncle and aunt help me out. We always knew I’d have to learn eventually, of course. Traditionally, it would’ve gone to the oldest son or the oldest daughter’s first son, but my father said, ‘It’s the twenty-first century, for Christ’s sake.’ None of us really expected me to be in charge this early, but…” She trailed off, coming to stand next to Elisa.
“And you live here by yourself?” Elisa asked, finally turning to look at Darcy’s face.
“Not entirely. Some of the staff members live here, too. Some prefer to commute from the city, but the ones that live here like it.”
“Don’t you get lonely?”
Darcy’s eyes flicked down to her feet for a moment. “Sometimes,” she admitted. “I wish Gianna had moved back here when I did. But I understand why she wanted to stay with our aunt and uncle. And she’s here all the time.”
They headed up the stairs, and someone was waiting to get the door. Darcy gave the older, silver-haired woman that took her jacket a warm smile, asking, “Is Gianna here yet?”
“She arrived about half an hour ago,” the maid said. She took Elisa’s coat, too. “She’s in the music room.”
“Thank you, Rachel. This is Elisa.” She gestured towards her. “Elisa, this is Rachel.”
“Hi,” Elisa said, still a little surprised to see Darcy smiling of her own volition.
“Oh, you’re Darcy’s friend,” Rachel said. “She mentioned you were coming over for lunch. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”
As Darcy led her to the music room, she said, “Rachel’s been here for longer than I’ve been alive. I never had a governess, but she was close.”
“She said it was nice to ‘finally’ meet me.” She nudged her playfully. “What have you been saying?”
Darcy blushed. “All good things,” she promised.
Elisa could hear someone playing a familiar tune she couldn’t quite place as they headed toward a huge room at the end of a long, empty hall
“Is that Gianna playing?” she asked.
Darcy nodded. “Must be. She comes by here for her music lesson once a week—our aunt and uncle are paying for the lessons, but I think they want her to have to leave the house every now and then. Even if it’s just to come to my house. Well, it’s our house. The tutor meets her here, and then I’m banned from that room for two hours until they finish. She practices here every chance she gets, too.”
“She’s really good.”
“She is.”
Darcy knocked gently on the door as she pushed it open. The music room was huge and had not just the grand piano at which Gianna sat, but a shelf full of music books, some recording equipment, and a few other instruments. Gianna was concentrating on the sheet music propped in front of her, the music seeming to pour out of her almost effortlessly. Sat at the piano, doing what she loved, she was barely recognizable as the near-silent, jumpy girl Elisa had met.
“Hi, Gianna,” Darcy said, once she reached the end of the piece.
She grinned, getting up to hug her sister. “Hi,” she said. Now that she wasn’t surrounded by strangers, her voice was much louder, much clearer. She turned to Elisa, a little more bashful now, but still smiling. “Elisa—I’m so glad you could make it. It’s been forever.”
Elisa smiled. “Yeah, it has. How’ve you been?”
“I’ve been good. Homeschooling is going…well, it’s going. And my music lessons are great.”
“I can tell. Darcy told me you were good, but—wow.”
“Do you play at all?” Gianna asked.
“Only a little bit. I played piano in the school orchestra for one of my art credits,” she said. “I sucked, but so did everyone else. Reviewers described my performance as ‘satisfactory.’”
They both chuckled. “Not much of an art person?” she asked.
“Not that kind of art,” she said. “I’m much more into literature and writing.”
“Oh yeah. Darcy told me you’re a great writer after she heard some of your essays in that class you guys took.”
Darcy cast Gianna a look that plainly said, Shut up.
She grinned. “I’m not sure I’d call myself a great writer. But it’s nice to be appreciated.
”
“You were, trust me. Darcy wouldn’t shut up about your essay on Go Set a Watchman for two solid days, it was actually kind of annoying—”
“Lunch,” Darcy said quickly, cutting her sister off. “Let’s, uh—let’s all go have lunch.”
…
Darcy and Gianna said it would be silly to have lunch in the main dining room, since there were only three of them, and instead suggested they eat in one of the many lounges. The three of them ate fish and chips, making small talk about Gianna’s lessons and what Darcy had been up to since leaving Steventon.
“Mostly attending board meetings and taking some courses at OSU,” she said.
“What’s your major, anyway?” Elisa asked.
“I’m going for a Bachelor’s in English, and then I’ll go to law school if everything goes the way I hope it will,” she said. “I’d like to go into family law.”
“Don’t you need a pre-law degree?”
“Not necessarily,” she said. “But I am taking a pre-law course now. Mainly just to see if I actually like it before I go through with applying to law school.”
“And do you like it?”
“Very much.” She smiled. “Gianna wants to go to Julliard.”
Gianna blushed a bit. “It’d be nice,” she said. “I’m not sure I can make a career of playing, though. I get awful stage fright.”
“For what it’s worth,” Elisa said, “I think Julliard would be lucky to have you.”
Darcy smiled, reaching over to muss her younger sister’s hair. She laughed, swatting her hand away. Elisa laughed, too, still surprised at how much she was enjoying herself. She caught Darcy’s eye and gave her a small smile, which grew into a grin when she blushed and looked away.
Darcy left a few minutes later, saying she needed to have a word with one of the groundskeepers before she forgot, leaving the other two alone. There was a slight pause before Elisa decided to just say it.
“Hey,” she said gently. “Your sister…um, she told me. About Wick.”
Gianna tensed slightly. “I know,” she said quietly. “I’m… I’m actually kinda glad. Sometimes I… Sometimes I feel like such a failure for not being able to go through with the trial and everything. I feel like I owed it to any other girl he may go after, but I… I just couldn’t. But at least now, someone else knows what he is.”
Elisa reached to touch her arm. “You’re not a failure. I can’t imagine being in that position, and I can’t even begin to understand how hard it must’ve been. Not pressing charges doesn’t make you weak or make what happened to you less real.”
Gianna smiled a little bit. “You sound like my sister,” she said. “I could tell she wanted me to go forward with it, but…she also said she’d support my choice. And I made it.”
“Darcy does support your choice,” she said. “I’m sure of that. She loves you. Even back before I really got to know her, I could tell she loved you a lot.” She sighed. “Honestly, I’m… I kind of feel like I should apologize to you, too. For believing Wick’s word over hers.”
Gianna shook her head. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I know how charming he can be. He says all the right things to make you feel special…then you want to believe everything he tells you.”
Her stomach twisted into a knot. “That sounds about right.”
“Wick is… Wick is an awful person, but he’s not the main person in my life anymore, thank God,” she said, fiddling with her napkin. “He’s a douchebag I used to date, and he’s a creep who took advantage of me once. But he’s not the person I base myself on anymore. Sometimes I catch myself missing him, but…honestly, I’m glad to be rid of him. Let’s just be glad he’s out of our lives.”
Elisa let out a snort, raising her glass of lemonade. “I’ll drink to that.”
…
After lunch was over, they headed back to Pemberley so Elisa could get her promised, not-on-the-itinerary tour. She had Darcy take her to the hall of arms first, mainly to shut Colin up, before the two passed a room with a plaque outside the door. The plaque read, “The Pemberley Family, Past and Present.”
“What’s this?” she asked, gesturing toward the door.
“Oh—that’s where they have portraits and photos of all the close relatives of Alexandra Pemberley, plus the family tree and the history of how she founded this place, pictures from the opening… I hardly ever go in there—it hasn’t changed much over the years.”
“Let’s check it out,” Elisa said, pulling open the door.
There was a painted portrait of Alexandra Pemberley herself at the start of the room. In it, she was in her mid-fifties or so, with an elegant, almost standoffish air. Maybe it was just her imagination, but Elisa could’ve sworn she saw a bit of Darcy in her eyes.
“She never married,” Darcy said. “She said matrimony would one day end, but art would last forever. That, and marriage was basically legal slavery.”
Elisa chuckled. “Maria would’ve liked her.”
She looked over each photo and painting, each depicting a relative or a group of relatives, ranging from Alexandra’s nephew, who took over running the museum when she died, to a gaggle of cousins who, according to the plaque next to the photograph, were minor members of the nobility. At the end of the room, the most recent photograph hung on the wall.
It depicted a small family of four—a tall black man in a military uniform, his arm around a blonde white woman in a lovely navy-blue dress, and, in front of them, a pair of girls about four years apart. One was about ten, smiling shyly for the camera, and the other, about fourteen, was…
“This is you and your parents,” Elisa said quietly as Darcy came to stand next to her.
She nodded, staring at her father’s image with a slightly glazed look in her eyes. “This was taken about six months before they passed.”
Elisa watched her for a moment before saying, “You miss them a lot, don’t you?”
“More than words can say.” She raised a hand as if she were about to touch the photograph, but stopped herself, retracting it quickly. “You would’ve liked them, I think. They were always so welcoming to everyone. My mom, it seemed, never met a stranger.”
“You look so much like both of them,” she said, turning her gaze back to the photo. “And—wow, Gianna looks a lot like your mom…”
Darcy cracked a smile. “She talks like her, too. Their speech patterns and the way they word things—it’s uncanny.”
They remained in front of the photo, a sort of melancholy filling the room before, finally, Darcy said, “Come on. I want to show you the topiary garden.”
Elisa didn’t argue, following her out. She’d heard of the garden—landscaped to look like a famous painting she could never remember the name of, it was free and open to the public even when the museum was not. There were several people there, walking their dogs or having picnic lunches, but it was quiet and peaceful.
“What’s your family like, Elisa?” Darcy asked, as they wandered through the garden, which was perfectly picturesque. Bushes clipped into the shapes of people in period clothing, with a lovely pond and an abundance of colorful, stunning flowers. “I… I know I’ve met them, but… I’m realizing now that my initial impressions of them may have been unfair.”
Elisa smiled, a light breeze brushing against her skin, carrying the scent of all the flora surrounding them. “You haven’t met my dad, but I think you two would get along. You actually remind me of him.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“It’s a great thing,” she said. “He likes books and sarcasm and avoiding emotional conversations.”
Darcy smiled. “Okay, I can see that. Do he and your mother embarrass you with all the PDA like mine embarrassed me, or are they more reserved?”
She looked away, nervously rubbing her arm. “They, uh… They actually split up when I was nine.”
“Oh. I’m—I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
“Don’t be,” she said, shaking her head. “
It’s for the best. I thought they were the perfect couple when I was a kid, but now that I’m older, I can see the cracks in the relationship from back then…” She sighed, forcing the conversation into calmer waters. “Mom is funny. Hotheaded. Meddling. Kind of ridiculous, but really, really loving. She’d do anything for us.”
“What about the rest of your family? Extended family, I mean.”
“I don’t really see them much. My mom’s brother lives in Chicago, but he calls when he can. He’s cool, as far as adults go. Gives good presents, tells bad jokes. Mom’s parents come over for holidays and birthdays, but it’s always kind of…awkward. Between the language barrier and the generational differences, I never know how to talk to them.”
“Language barrier?” Darcy asked. “So they speak Spanish at home?”
Elisa nodded. “Yeah. I speak some, but I’m not fluent like Mom and Papa are. Their families are both Mexican immigrants. Mom’s parents came over when her older brother was a toddler—she’s the only one who was born here. Papa’s family has been in the States for four or five generations. My parents actually get along pretty well—I mean, as well as you can expect a divorced couple to—but their families have been like the Montagues and the Capulets since they began dating. Except instead of a double suicide, the story ends with a visit to Mr. Divorce Lawyer and some awkward family dinners. So it’s better.”
“That must make Thanksgiving tense,” Darcy said.
“You have no idea. Julieta’s the only one who can get them to stop fighting. She’s always been the family peacekeeper—her and Camila.” A small gust of wind blew her hair into her eyes. Shoving it away, she said, “Cam is a little wild sometimes, but she has such a good heart. So do Maria and Lucia, really. They irritate the hell out of me, but they’re all really nice, once you get to know them.”
“I hope I get the opportunity to get to know them better.”
Elisa smiled. “I do, too.”
She stopped walking when they reached the top of a hill, giving them a perfect view of the entire garden. Standing there in silence, Elisa felt her breath catch in her throat for a moment. She took in the sight, wanting to permanently freeze this image in her memory.