by Sophia Grey
“You shall see so much wonderful scenery,” Jane sighed. “I am almost jealous of your invitation, but I do not think I will be able to leave Mama alone with Lydia and Kitty to manage on her own.”
“Indeed not,” Elizabeth laughed. “You may have to restrain Lydia when the militia marches past on the way to Brighton.”
“You are horrible,” Jane smiled, “but perhaps not incorrect. I may have to devise some way to keep the girls occupied…”
“See that you do, Mama will be bereft if they should run away to follow behind like a pair of lovesick hounds. I am almost surprised that there have been no proposals of marriage from any of the young officers—Lydia and Kitty both have their favorites among the men.”
“Indeed they do, but none have called upon us, and I fear that their interest may be a passing one only. Though I could not break such news to Kitty if my life depended upon it. Lydia will be unaffected. I have no doubt that her tears will dry within days of their departure. They will understand soon enough what it means to be in love and realize that whatever affection they might have had for these officers that it was not anything real or lasting.”
Jane’s voice was so solemn that Elizabeth instinctively pulled her sister into an embrace. She had watched Jane’s hope of Mr. Bingley’s return to Netherfield Park fade ever so slightly with each day that passed, and now that summer had arrived it seemed even less likely that he would do so. However, Elizabeth held out the belief that the gentleman had, indeed, read her letter and was even now preparing for his return to Hertfordshire.
“Netherfield Park is not let,” she said quietly. “There is still hope.”
“You are entirely too optimistic, Lizzy,” Jane replied. “However, you are correct. There has been no talk in Meryton of there being any search for a new occupant, so—for now at least—I cannot argue with you.”
“There is, indeed, no use in arguing with me,” Elizabeth declared. “You will see, Jane. I have every confidence in my predictions.” That was not entirely true, but it was good to hear Jane laugh again. “Will you be all right while I am gone?” Elizabeth asked seriously.
“Of course,” was Jane’s reply. It has been a wonderful summer, and I cannot think of anything that could dampen my spirits. Jane’s smile was not as confident as her words, but there was nothing that Elizabeth could do to mend that.
When she had departed Longbourn, Elizabeth had no expectation of what she might see and experience in the north of the country. Until this moment, she had only ever been as far north as Kent, and only briefly. Nothing could have prepared her for the quiet splendor of the lakes and the magnificence of the great estates that they visited along the way.
But it was Derbyshire that captured her aunt’s attention most vividly.
“Your aunt lived not far from here as a girl,” said Mr. Gardiner as their carriage approached the Lambton Inn where they would spend several nights as they explored the county. “There is more of a country girl in Mrs. Gardiner than she would like many people to know!” he said with a loving chuckle.
Mrs. Gardiner did not deny her husband’s observation and slapped at him playfully with her fan. When the carriage stopped in front of the Inn, Mrs. Gardiner leaned forward and tapped her niece on the knee. “I have a surprise for you, Lizzy.”
“You have already been so kind,” Elizabeth began, “I do not deserve any surprises!”
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Gardiner laughed. “I am happy to do this, and I hope it will make you happy as well.”
Elizabeth clasped her aunt’s hand as the carriage door opened and Mr. Gardiner stepped down onto the gravel. He groaned and stretched and walked around the front of the carriage to speak to the driver.
“I have no doubt that it will be so,” Elizabeth said with a smile.
* * *
Elizabeth spent the evening wondering what her aunt had planned for the coming day. But it was not until they were comfortably settled inside the carriage and underway that Mrs. Gardiner revealed the particulars of their destination.
“Pemberley?” Elizabeth spluttered in surprise. “Of all the estates in Derbyshire you have chosen Pemberley?”
“Now, Lizzy, if I had told you where we were visiting, you might have argued. I thought this would be a pleasant surprise…” Mrs. Gardiner frowned slightly at her niece and Elizabeth sat back against the carriage seat and tried to smile.
“I am sorry, Aunt, I was, indeed, surprised.” Surprised was a mild term for how she was feeling. Shocked would be more accurate. Stunned, perhaps.
Mrs. Gardiner looked to her husband for support, but Mr. Gardiner was staring out the window at the thick pine forest outside the carriage window. Mrs. Gardiner sighed deeply and tried again to pacify her niece. “I have been assured that there is no one at home, Lizzy. I have written to the housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds, and she has assured me that we will be welcome for a tour of the estate.” Mrs. Gardiner’s smile was meant to be reassuring, but Elizabeth did not feel reassured. Mrs. Gardiner reached out and took her niece’s hand. “Please, do not be cross with me.”
“I am not,” Elizabeth replied honestly. “Truly.”
That was not a lie. Elizabeth was curious about Pemberley, and as the carriage rolled down the long drive, she found herself intrigued by the estate of the man she had once believed was the most disagreeable gentleman of her acquaintance. As the months had passed since his horrendous proposal at Hunsford, Elizabeth had spoken about it at length with Jane and taken the time to ponder what he had done for their family by sending Mr. Wickham away from Meryton.
What could be behind a man like Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. A man so full of his own importance and yet, to behave so unexpectedly as well—
“Oh, Lizzy, look!” Mrs. Gardiner’s joyful exclamation interrupted Elizabeth’s thoughts and she was forced to turn in the carriage seat to follow her aunt’s gaze.
The house itself rose gracefully out of the gently rolling hills and Elizabeth bit back a gasp of surprise at the delicacy of the construction and appointment on the landscape. So many of the grand estates they had seen in their travels seemed to have been forced upon the landscape, much like Rosings Park had been, but it was obvious even to Elizabeth’s eyes that Pemberley had been designed and built with the uniqueness of the terrain is was situated on held firmly in mind.
A thoughtful piece of architecture, to be sure.
“I’ve been told that this estate was built by Mr. Darcy’s grandfather as a wedding gift,” Mrs. Gardiner said, but Elizabeth was barely listening. She was looking at the glistening lake and the rushing stream that wound through the estate and thinking of how Mr. Darcy would spend his time here. Did he ride? Did he fish? Or did he spend his time away from the estate in London? Or did he while away his hours indoors, pacing in his study while drinking fine whiskey?
“A very lucky bride to receive such a gift,” Elizabeth murmured.
“Indeed,” Mrs. Gardiner agreed and Elizabeth smiled as she noticed her aunt elbow her husband slightly. Mr. Gardiner chuckled warmly and patted his wife’s hand.
“Would you like an estate in the country, Mrs. Gardiner?” he asked gamely.
“Oh, Mr. Gardiner, I would not ask you to go away from London,” Elizabeth’s aunt replied loftily. “You would long for the busy streets and company of our friends.”
Mr. Gardiner raised an eyebrow and gestured at the grand house. “I believe that for an estate such as this, Mrs. Gardiner, I could give up a great many things.” Mrs. Gardiner kissed her husband’s cheek and Elizabeth felt her heart swell with affection for the pair. They had always been the example she had held up for herself as what a happy marriage should look like. Her aunt and uncle rarely argued, and seemed to share a common purpose and opinion on many subjects. She could only hope that her own marriage would be as happy.
As the carriage approached the front of the house, Elizabeth’s worry that they would be intruding, or that they would find the house occupied, plagued her mind. “Are you very sur
e—” she began, but her words were cut off as the carriage lurched to a halt.
The front doors of the house were open, and Elizabeth did her best not to gasp at their size—a carriage with two horses leading it could have trotted through with no trouble.
A woman with iron grey hair pulled up under a starched cap appeared in the doorway and though Elizabeth expected her to wave them away or send someone to chase them off, the woman smiled welcomingly and directed a similarly pleasant-looking footman toward their carriage.
The young man welcomed them warmly as he opened the carriage door and extended a hand to assist Mrs. Gardiner to step down onto the carefully raked gravel of the courtyard.
“Mrs. Gardiner, you are most welcome!” the woman exclaimed as she came out to meet them.
“Mrs. Reynolds,” Elizabeth’s aunt replied. “I thank you for agreeing to see us on such short notice. I had hoped to make this visit a surprise for my niece.” As her aunt made introductions, Elizabeth stepped down from the carriage and tried to smile, though somewhat awkwardly, at the footman who had helped her down, but the young man was already rushing back towards the house and had not waited for her thanks.
“Lizzy,” Mrs. Gardiner gestured to her and Elizabeth put a more genuine smile on her face as she approached. “Mrs. Reynolds has offered us luncheon and a tour of the house, is that not wonderful?”
Elizabeth looked at the woman in surprise, but Mrs. Reynolds only smiled warmly in reply. “Wonderful,” Elizabeth murmured in response, for there was nothing else she could say.
Their small party followed Mrs. Reynolds into the house and Elizabeth did her best to bite her lip against the gasp of surprise that threatened to burst from her lips.
Pemberley was beautiful. The foyer, the grand entrance hall, everything about it was delicate woodwork, sweeping staircases, and graceful lines. Like Rosings Park this building was meant to be grand, but unlike the estate that housed Mr. Darcy’s aunt, Pemberley had also been built to be a home. Elizabeth imagined that Rosings Park’s nursery was located in the top floor, far away from everything else happening in the house. But Pemberley was different, and she imagined that the mistress of such a place would have been closely involved in the upbringing of her children.
“Lizzy,” Mrs. Gardiner touched her shoulder lightly, “is everything all right?”
“Oh, yes,” Elizabeth said quickly as they entered what could only have been a music room. A beautiful pianoforte stood in the center of the room and Elizabeth ran her hand along the smoothly polished surface. “Very much so.”
“This,” Mrs. Reynolds gestured towards the instrument, “was a gift for my dear mistress from her brother for her most recent birthday. She is away in Ramsgate, but will return this evening.” Elizabeth lifted her hand from the wood and clutched at the fabric of her skirt as though her touch had made the instrument dirty.
“Does she play?” Mrs. Gardiner asked.
“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Reynolds said with a proud smile. “She is the most accomplished young lady of my acquaintance. She turned her attention to Elizabeth and favored her again with that warm, maternal smile. “Do you play, Miss Bennet?”
Elizabeth felt a blush creep up to her cheeks. “Very ill, I am afraid,” she said softly.
“Nonsense, Lizzy,” Mrs. Gardiner said hastily. “Elizabeth is a very fine pianoforte player, and she has a lovely singing voice.” She patted Elizabeth’s arm sharply. “My niece is entirely too modest.”
Mrs. Reynolds smiled, as though she expected all young ladies to be disparaging of their talents in polite company. The only problem was, Elizabeth was not being modest, she really was very uncoordinated at the pianoforte, even Mary’s tutor had pointed it out, which was why she had turned her attentions to other pursuits and accomplishments. Although, if pressed, she was not sure which ones she could mention. Her drawing was passable, her French was impossible, and Mrs. Gardiner was being far too generous when it came to her singing. Alas, it seemed that Elizabeth would have to content herself with being a witty conversationalist, and a young woman who had spent entirely too much time with her nose in a book.
This fact suited her just fine, for the heroines in her books were accomplished in other ways they could not quite describe either.
As they continued their tour through Pemberley, Elizabeth could not help but notice how effusively Mrs. Reynolds described her master. If the housekeeper were to be believed, Mr. Darcy was the kindest of masters who had never once said a harsh word to her. A far cry from what Elizabeth herself had experienced. It took every bit of restraint for her not to question the woman further.
However, the more of the house they saw, and the more Mrs. Reynolds spoke of her life on the estate the more Elizabeth began to wonder if her opinion of Mr. Darcy had been colored by her own emotions and wounded feelings. Seeing the house gave her some insight into the man that Mr. Darcy was.
“Would it not be a fine thing to be a mistress of a house such as this,” Mrs. Gardiner whispered as they followed Mrs. Reynolds through the conservatory and out into the gardens that flanked the house.
“Indeed,” Elizabeth murmured in reply.
“The Pemberley gardens have been tended by each mistress of the house since it was built,” Mrs. Reynolds said proudly. “The rose gardens were an especial point of pride for my late mistress. She cared for these roses as tenderly as she did her own children.”
“It certainly shows,” Elizabeth said appreciatively. The roses were indeed beautiful. Every shade and size was represented here, from pale yellow miniatures to enormous deep red double blooms and delicate climbers that wound their way around arches and stonework in fragrant cascades.
“Are you horticulturally inclined, Miss Bennet?” Mrs. Reynolds asked, and Elizabeth brightened slightly. She and Jane had taken great pride in the planting and cultivation of their own flower garden at Longbourn.
“I do enjoy being in the garden very much, Mrs. Reynolds,” Elizabeth said with a smile. “My sister and I take great delight in our herb gardens, but I should very much like to learn more about roses and their care. This seems a great accomplishment.”
Mrs. Reynolds nodded gravely. “Unfortunately, Miss Georgiana is so often away that she has not been able to pay these beauties the attention she should receive.” She sighed heavily and then brightened. “I can only hope that my master will choose a young woman with a green thumb for his bride. This house is sorely in need of a lady’s presence.”
“Indeed,” Mrs. Gardiner said with a sly smile. “And where is Mr. Darcy at the moment, Mrs. Reynolds?” With her eyes, Elizabeth begged her aunt to stay silent, but Mrs. Gardiner ignored her niece’s discomfort blithely.
“In London on business,” came the quick reply, “but I do expect him back tomorrow before tea.” Mrs. Reynolds smoothed down her apron and smiled at Mrs. Gardiner. “You are welcome to walk the grounds, but I must return to my duties.”
“Of course,” Mrs. Gardiner agreed. “We have brought a picnic luncheon, and if you are not opposed, we should like to enjoy it by the lake.”
“You are most welcome to do so,” Mrs. Reynolds replied warmly. “Do keep an eye on the swans, Miss Darcy insists on keeping them, but they can be quite troublesome if you get too close!”
“We will keep that in mind,” Mrs. Gardiner laughed. Mrs. Reynolds bid them a good afternoon and disappeared into the house. Mrs. Gardiner looped her arm through her husband’s and Elizabeth fixed her aunt with a stern gaze, but Mrs. Gardiner diffused her niece’s ire with a simple wink. “Come, Lizzy, we will take our luncheon by the lake, and then resume our journey. Mrs. Wilkins from the Inn was kind enough to pack us a lovely luncheon.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I confess I am not hungry,” she replied with a sigh. “You are more than welcome to enjoy it, and I will join you presently. Perhaps a brisk walk through gardens will jostle my appetite.”
Mrs. Gardiner arched a brow but did not argue. “Come Mr. Gardiner,” she said with a smile, “le
t us adjourn to the lake, I believe I can hear your stomach rumbling already.”
“Quite right,” Mr. Gardiner agreed heartily. “Mrs. Willis promised to put a slice of kidney pie in that basket!”
“Then let us not keep it waiting,” Mrs. Gardiner laughed at her husband’s eager words. “Join us when you wish, Lizzy, I will try to save something from your uncle’s ravenous appetite for you.”
Elizabeth waved them off and watched them leave the gardens with a smile upon her face. It was not a great hardship to enjoy her aunt and uncle’s company, and she hoped that one day her own marriage would be filled with such good-natured conversation and discourse. If she could have a marriage like the one she observed in her aunt and uncle? That would be very fine, indeed.
There was a path that led through the gardens toward a stand of oak trees and Elizabeth suddenly felt the urge to escape the heat of the afternoon and walk in the coolness of the shade. She removed her bonnet and slung the ribbon over her wrist with a happy sigh and then paused to admire the roses Mrs. Reynolds had praised so highly. She inhaled the heady perfume of one particularly large bloom and sighed with surprised delight at the beauty of it.
She could imagine herself here, in the summer sunshine, tending the roses as children tumbled in the grass with their governess and the sound of the pianoforte floated across the garden.
Mrs Gardiner was right, it would be quite something to be mistress of Pemberley.
“If I were Mrs. Darcy,” she mused aloud, “I would place more roses there,” she pointed to a row of hedges that were sorely in need of some color. “Climbing vines with orange roses.” She could be silly, even though she were alone. With no one to hear or scold her, Elizabeth’s imagination took over. “If I were Mrs. Darcy, I should commission a sculpture garden—marble statues in the Greek style, I should think. And a reflecting pool, long and graceful.”
She bent to inhale the scent of another rose, this one was a deep red with an ancient, twisted trunk to support its growth. One of the original roses, she surmised. “If I were Mrs. Darcy this house would be filled with laughter,” she said. “The children would play there, and we would plan a maze for them to be built of ivy and sweet myrtle. Georgiana would play the pianoforte, and in the summer we would open all of the windows and doors to let the music out into the garden.” Elizabeth laughed lightly at the impossibility of it all. “If I were Mrs. Darcy we would talk from sunset to sunrise about anything that came into our minds, and we would not question, or carry secrets, or bitterness… If I were Mrs. Darcy I would trust that my husband had my best interests, and those of my family, at heart.” She plucked a thorn from the stem of the rose and examined it carefully before placing it upon the freshly raked earth at the foot of the rose bush.