by Jemma Thorne
When the girl had left, I had to admit to a deep desire to see Darcy’s home. Of course it wasn’t because it was his, but because of the renown of the estate and the considerable pleasure my aunt took from the woods surrounding it. Mrs. Gardiner wanted to show me the place, so as a dutiful niece, I would acquiesce.
And this was the moment Clarice decided to reappear.
A slight hiss and my vision blurred for just a moment, as though a wave had dashed through the room. My great-grandmother stood in front of me.
“And so we find ourselves…little more than an hour’s walk from the house known as Pemberley, where you would have lived had you foolishly accepted Mr. Darcy’s proposal.”
I flushed. As if I needed reminding. I chose silence.
“Even your thoughts are sulky. You can’t be silent with me. Lizzy…I must ask…” Clarice gestured to the thin cord holding the petrified wood, which I wore constantly so that I could banish Clarice’s spirit from my presence if needed. “Do not use that. I can feel its darkness – it is like being swallowed into the depths of a cellar, the door closing out all light. You do not understand…”
“Clarice, I do not mean you to hurt, but I can’t have you with me every second. I can’t be the only one who knows you are here, who sees you popping in to observe, who must speak with you about your opinions concerning our lives.”
“I have no life but this one.”
“Your life is over. It was finished ages ago – it is my sorry luck to be a seer born into your family home.”
“You do not mean that.”
I gritted my teeth, wishing I did not.
Chapter 3
The next morning I woke with an odd foreboding. I reminded myself that the chambermaid had told me just last night that the Darcy family was not in residence at Pemberley. I had nothing to worry about.
Still, I didn’t eat well. My stomach was upset and it only became more so on the short ride over hill and dale to the famed estate.
Mrs. Gardiner was saying something, filling me in on all she had learned of her old acquaintances yesterday after I had retired.
I felt a faint clamor that I knew was just in my mind, and squeezed my eyes tight shut. I knew without looking that Clarice had taken up residence on the seat next to me.
“Are you all right?” Mrs. Gardiner asked, her tone frightened.
“Yes…yes, I think so. I’m sorry, my stomach hasn’t been right all morning.”
“Well, don’t you worry. We will arrive at Pemberley, or at least its woods, in just a moment.”
“Yes, here it is.” Mr. Gardiner was watching out the carriage window. Sure enough, the carriage made a slow turn onto a narrower lane. We couldn’t see very far ahead; the trees crowded too close to the edge of the drive.
“Oh, I do love Pemberley Woods!” Mrs. Gardiner said dreamily.
The foreboding I had felt earlier returned, stronger this time.
“You feel it.” Clarice smirked beside me. I was growing to detest that expression.
I didn’t answer. I looked away from my great-grandmother’s spirit and fingered the wooden disc I wore beneath my clothes. Clarice hissed, and disappeared with a faint pop. The air suddenly felt warmer, and I could detect the soft fragrance of flowers on the breeze.
I forced a few deep breaths and turned a faint smile in Mrs. Gardiner’s direction.
“Don’t worry, Aunt. I am sure it will clear up once we’re out of this carriage.”
“The woods do go on for a bit, dear. Bear with it, we will be there soon enough.” At least my apparent stomach upset kept my aunt from trying to engage in further conversation at the moment.
For once I wished that Clarice had just stayed behind. Must I share every moment with the smirking ghost? Couldn’t I view my would-be-betrothed’s estate in a bit more peace?
She was gone for now, and I was determined to enjoy the day as much as I could.
We were gaining on a hill. It seemed that the road widened up ahead. I leaned forward in anticipation – I couldn’t wait to take in the view. The wind rustled through the full crowns of the trees. A pair of birds exchanged messages back and forth. Eager chirps, as though they too were anticipating the view.
The road veered to the right at the top of the hill and the woods fell away on one side. My eyes widened as I took in the landscape. Oh, what a place. A scatter of woods approached the steep banks of a small river, winding like a bright satin ribbon below us. The road would take us across a bridge to where Pemberley was nestled in a sweet little vale.
I had never seen such a grand home. I couldn’t imagine a finer place. Pemberley did not compete for splendor with the landscape around it, but complemented the landscape so that I could hardly picture one without the other.
So this was Darcy’s house.
I caught my breath. In my heart of hearts I realized only too clearly now that to be mistress of Pemberley would be something.
As there was nothing for it, I rejected the thought and gave myself over to curiosity. What sights would we see? What delights would my visit bring? I kept watch out the carriage window as the woods closed once more around the drive.
It was a beautiful place, and yet underlying my enjoyment of the natural scenery was an apprehension that I couldn’t attribute to nerves.
What was this feeling?
A melancholy deeper than the roots of the woods we rode through, sharper than the shrill notes of some far off birds.
It would not do to let it sink too deeply into my bones, this sadness. I had made my choices. I could have come here as a bride. But that was not to be.
A Pemberley bride…
For a moment I thought I heard a whisper on the wind. I peered into the woods, seeing the shadows there, old and unfathomable.
Just as our carriage emerged from the woods, having wound down the hillside so we were now on a level with Pemberley itself, the hair on my arms stood on end.
“What are we doing here?” Clarice hissed in my mind. “You rejected this man, did you not? If you have any wits about you, you’ll follow my advice and never marry. Poor is the woman who must answer to a man for every decision she makes.”
I closed my eyes, but that didn’t block out Clarice’s ranting. I clutched my hand against my chest, feeling the wooden disc there against my skin. I willed Clarice away, closed her into a carved out piece of my mind, a cell where my great-grandmother’s ghost could be chained when hosting her felt like this. It took a lot of concentration. A bead of sweat popped out on my brow.
“Lizzy!” Mrs. Gardiner said in alarm. “She looks like she’s going to be sick, dear.”
I heard Mr. Gardiner tap on the front of the carriage and a few moments later its motion ceased.
I was grateful. I wanted to be more composed when I arrived at Pemberley. Of course Mr. Darcy was not going to be there. And none of the household would know anything about his sudden proposal at Rosings. Still, I was uncomfortable at the thought of appearing with such obvious vulnerability in my countenance.
We stepped from the carriage. Mr. Gardiner had offered his arm as I stepped out and he gave my hand an affectionate pat. “There we are. Might as well take in the view for a few moments before we go on.”
Mrs. Gardiner smiled at her generous spouse and I felt an odd, unwelcome pang at their obvious love for one another.
The feeling surprised me. Jealousy didn’t used to be in my nature.
The view was stunning. Pemberley stood across the river, which rippled over its stony bed. A faint wind blew warm against my face, tracing as if with fingertips.
I see you, a voice whispered faintly. I see her.
I shivered.
My imagination could run amuck at the wildest times. With my over-emotional attachment to Pemberley, though I’d never seen it before, certainly this was one of those times. This place held no ghosts save for the one I had just locked away in my mind.
Resolutely, I turned back to the carriage and took my seat once again
for the short, bumpy ride across the bridge. There was nothing for it but to make this visit, satisfy my relatives, and then possibly retire to my room early – again – so that I might begin to decide how to deal with Clarice.
It seemed I would not be able to move on in anything else in life with my great-grandmother’s spirit attendant on my every choice and my every thought.
Yes… I see…
Wondering if Clarice had found a way through Lady Leticia’s spell, I resolutely ignored the faint whisper in the wind.
The Pemberley staff greeted us warmly and the housekeeper was called to give a tour. While that was arranged, the Gardiners and I were left in a parlor off the main hall. As we walked there, I took eager note of my surroundings, the odd melancholy I’d felt before replaced by curiosity.
Lofty rooms flowed off the main corridor and were dressed in elegant, if slightly austere, furnishings. An air of dignity filled the space. The sheer size of the place made me feel small, but I found the feeling inspiring. It was amazing what men could do when they put their minds and hands to it.
To think I could have been mistress of this place. By now I could be well acquainted with these rooms, instead of seeing them as a stranger.
A number of paintings lined one wall of the parlor. From across the room I could make out the one of Darcy. My feet moved before I invited them to and there I stood in front of it. It was a fair likeness; it even showed the hint of a smile he often wore after teasing me. I was surprised to see it there. How many others had seen so much of that expression? And around the eyes…the painter had captured something here, the subject’s intelligence, but also the feeling that Darcy would have rather been anywhere else than sitting for a painting.
“So this is your Mr. Darcy.” Mrs. Gardiner threaded her arm through mine and stood considering the painting with me.
“My Mr. Darcy?” I quibbled.
My aunt looked at me, brows raised. “I was only joking. Yet you’re sensitive enough on the subject that I just might have something there…” She tapped a fingernail against her chin in mock thoughtfulness. Her eyes challenged me to either say otherwise or to join in the joke.
I did neither.
Mrs. Gardiner turned back to the painting. “What do you think of it? You have met the subject. That we can agree upon at least. How does the portrait compare?”
I glanced toward her and a shadow darted out of my perception at that instant. Had it taken the shape of a woman?
“It is decently done. The artist captured him truly.” I spoke slowly, going over what I’d just seen in my mind.
“He is handsome,” Mrs. Gardiner said.
I huffed out an exasperated breath.
She gave a scandalized gasp. “Lizzy, I don’t know what has gotten into you today. Please do tell if you can stand to.”
I grimaced. “I’m sorry.” I grasped her hand. “I am not feeling my best. Please forgive me.”
“Should we curtail our visit and return to Lambton?” she asked.
I only had time to shake my head before the parlor door opened and a middle-aged woman wearing a bright white, starched apron marched in. “Hello all. I’m Mrs. Reynolds. Let me show you around Pemberley. I know you’ll understand that only so much of the house is open for viewing.” She noted that we stood in front of the portraits. “There is a gallery with larger paintings upstairs. This was my late master’s favorite room, and these miniatures are just as he left them.”
“It is a fine collection,” Mrs. Gardiner told Mrs. Reynolds. “Lizzy was just saying Mr. Darcy’s painting shows a fair representation of the man.”
Mrs. Reynolds turned to me. “Do you know my master?”
“Yes, we have met, time and again.”
Mr. Gardiner spoke up. “We have heard the master is not at home. Is it true we have missed him?”
“By just a day,” Mrs. Reynolds confirmed.
My heart skipped a beat. That was too close. Thank goodness I hadn’t delayed! I might have been thrust into Darcy’s presence after all – how humiliating, if he were to find me examining his home.
I had only just noticed a painting of Wickham a few over from the one of Darcy.
Mrs. Gardiner paced alongside me to view it. “You know this one, too? Ah! I know him, too. Wickham, wasn’t he called? He is with the regiment that just left Meryton.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Reynolds said. “My late master’s steward’s son. I’m afraid he’s turned a bit wild – with his own father and then Mr. Darcy passing on. He tested the master time and again. Now I fear he may never return. He was a sweet child, funny enough.”
The thought of them as children… I could almost picture a young Darcy, book in hand. Wickham was surely a more rambunctious child – his merry smile spoke to that. Had they ever gotten along?
An eerie whistle filled my ears. I grew dizzy, stumbled and recovered myself, standing with my hand on the back of an armchair. My vision faded alarmingly and I feared I would fall. I closed my eyes, trying to steady myself.
But I could still see the room – or an older, retired version of it.
Two boys ran through, disheveled, the elder chasing the smaller boy, his smile wide and unguarded.
They darted through the wide doors, which were open to the courtyard.
I followed them.
Sunlight splashed the ground and the smell of roses filled the warm air. I held my hands over my belly, feeling the movement there. A daughter would add so much to this little family. I could imagine my husband’s smile, my son’s protectiveness.
The two boys ran by again, and I reached out and ruffled the hair of the older boy, who looked up at me with gray eyes and a quick, warm smile before dashing off again after his friend.
“Lizzy?”
Mrs. Gardiner’s face swam into view above me as I blinked. I was stretched out on a couch, surrounded by my aunt and uncle, the housekeeper, and another man I didn’t know. How humiliating.
“She’s coming around,” Mrs. Reynolds said. “My girl, you gave us a fright. Your head came down inches from the hearth – that could have ended badly. There now. Are you alright?”
I nodded slowly. Images from the vision tumbled around in my mind. That had been Darcy, as a young boy. I knew it clearly and certainly.
“Her stomach has been off all morning,” Mrs. Gardiner offered, as I still hadn’t spoken.
“Maybe you should just rest here for a few minutes, my dear. We’ll be back before too long.”
I had been about to sit up, but honestly, I didn’t want to see the upstairs. Given the chance, I wanted to know what was happening here. It wasn’t Clarice. Clarice hadn’t known Darcy as a small boy.
I remembered the hands stretching over a pregnant belly. The same graceful hands ruffling Darcy’s hair and receiving a look of complete adoration in return.
My heart ached.
“Yes. Thank you. I’ll rest here for a few minutes.”
So they left me there. Mrs. Gardiner gave me an apologetic look, but I waved her off. I needed to be alone, but not to rest.
Chapter 4
As soon as they’d gone, I reached into my reticule and withdrew my pendulum. But I’d barely taken it in my hand when the temperature in the room dropped suddenly.
I shivered. This was one effect of contact with spirits that I could do without.
“I’m sorry. I can’t help it. Think of it from my perspective – I will never feel warm again.”
The voice came from behind me.
I rose from the couch and turned toward it. The spirit stood just on the other side of the couch. A woman, adult but not old, with long dark hair and large, serious eyes.
“You won’t be needing that.” The spirit pointed to the pendulum I held. The one I’d planned to use to contact the spirit – or spirits – in residence. “I am the only one here. That’s how I felt you so readily…you and your guest.”
I didn’t feel any threat from this particular spirit. “You seem as if you want to t
alk to me. Why? I’m certain you don’t speak to everyone who visits; Pemberley is not known for being haunted.”
The ghost shrugged. “The house stood for many a year before this transpired.” She waved a hand over her translucent form. “I am still young, for a ghost.”
“You are Lady Anne Darcy. Darcy’s mother,” I said hastily, unable to contain my suspicion for another silent second.
The spirit nodded. “I was. Now I just watch. I miss him. But at least I got to know him. I missed almost everything with Georgiana.” She considered me with a long stare. “I knew he pined for some woman. And then you come in, eyes eager not for the estate, but for sight of him.”
I stood, frozen. “I am sorry you miss them. But…forgive me for saying…a spirit usually has some urgent, unfinished business. In that vision you showed me, you seemed very happy. Why are you still here?”
It was a frank question, and possibly a cruel one. Lady Anne pursed her lips as she decided on her answer.
“I was happy. I had a good life. I won’t show you how terribly it had all gone wrong the next year. I won’t show you my miserable death. Influenza can be fast and in my case it was extremely brutal. I was healthy one day and died two days later. I never got to say goodbye. Not to my children. Not to my life.”
The light in the room dimmed as clouds gathered outside, much more rapidly than normal. It was as if she had called them to her like a cloak over the home she’d loved. I focused my attention on Lady Anne’s spirit. “How can I help you?”
But just then, the parlor door opened wide to admit the Gardiners again. Lady Anne was gone in a heartbeat.
“Lizzy…” Mrs. Gardiner glared when she saw me standing instead of resting as I’d promised. “I see you’re feeling better. That’s all for the best. We tour the gardens next and then we’ll return to Lambton where you will no doubt retire early. Again. Too bad you missed it, dear. It is a beautiful house.”
I had no doubt I’d been the only one privy to the most interesting part.