A Chance Encounter in Pemberley Woods

by Brigid Huey

  As soon as they saw him, they ceased their private conversation, rising to greet him instead. Sycophantic smiles pasted on their faces, they asked whether he wished for tea and cake. He accepted the tea then moved away from them to sit near Georgiana.

  “Shall we not have some music?” Mrs. Hurst enquired. “I am sure Caroline would oblige us.”

  Darcy answered in what he hoped was a polite and kind way. Caroline moved toward the pianoforte, and the rest of the company sat nearby, the better to hear her performance. It was masterfully done, of course. Caroline was an extremely accomplished woman. Darcy stole a glance at Elizabeth. She was sitting beside her aunt, attending to the music with polite interest.

  When Caroline had played two pieces, she stood and invited Georgiana to play. Darcy looked at his sister, trying to determine how best to make her excuses. He knew she disliked playing for company. To his surprise, however, Georgiana rose and made her way toward Elizabeth.

  “Miss Elizabeth,” she said in a confident tone Darcy could scarcely recognize. “Would you accompany me?”

  Elizabeth received this request with surprised pleasure but confessed that she did not know any duets.

  “Then perhaps you would turn the pages for me?” Georgiana asked.

  “I should be delighted, Miss Darcy,” came the reply.

  Darcy watched as his sister took her place at the pianoforte and began to play, Elizabeth dutifully turning the pages of her music as necessary.

  When Georgiana had finished her first piece, no one clapped louder than he. Mr. Gardiner leaned toward him, sharing the settee as they were, and whispered, “She is quite accomplished, sir. Her love of music is obvious.”

  “Yes,” he replied. “She has always been musical, and I am happy she finds such enjoyment in the discipline.”

  “They make a pretty picture, do they not?” his companion replied. Darcy glanced at him, detecting something in his tone that sounded a bit like his teasing niece. Mr. Gardiner was obviously close to his niece, and their resemblance was occasionally rather striking. Darcy had the sudden feeling that Mr. Gardiner understood his feelings toward Elizabeth quite clearly.

  “A very pretty picture indeed,” he replied, not wishing to hide his interest. He watched as Georgiana prepared to play another piece after extracting a promise from Elizabeth that she would play next.

  Georgiana played his favorite solo arrangement of Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 23. When at last Elizabeth sat down to play, she too played Mozart. It was when she began to sing that Darcy felt his heart clench in the familiar pain of desire for that which he could not have. Dear Elizabeth, how very lovely she is. He thought again of her words about him in the parsonage: “… the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.”

  Darcy felt a steely resolve beginning to build within him as he sat there in his family home, watching Elizabeth play. He would show her that he had changed, that her words had been taken with all the seriousness they deserved. And he would win her heart if there was any possibility to do so.

  Chapter Seven

  The day dawned clear and bright. It was so incredibly lovely here at Pemberley. One could look out the window and see nothing but beautiful green hills and ancient trees. Lizzy gazed across the front lawn, toward the lake in the distance. Of all this, she might have been mistress. A small voice whispered that perhaps she had been foolish.

  She shook herself. She had been right to refuse Mr. Darcy when she did although the manner of her refusal now gave her pain. And yet, were they not moving beyond the past? Might it be that they were becoming friends?

  Elizabeth contemplated the many changes in Mr. Darcy’s demeanor as she stepped into a morning gown. It was a charming sprigged muslin with yellow trimmings. As her maid buttoned the gown, she thought again about his naming Daisy after her, at least in part. It was rather astonishing.

  Once her hair had been styled into a knot of curls atop her head, she enquired of her maid whether Clarabelle had taken Daisy outside. She was informed that they had just left the nursery and should still be in the gardens.

  Elizabeth decided to avoid the breakfast room, not feeling up to the possibility of encountering Miss Bingley. The latter was meant to be departing this very morning, and Lizzy knew she should take her leave. However, she rather thought that Miss Bingley would prefer a solitary adieu with Mr. Darcy.

  The sunshine was just as lovely outside as it had been shining through her windows this morning. Lizzy found Clarabelle and Daisy on the lawn, close to the rotunda. A small carriage had been procured for the little one, and Clarabelle was pulling her gently along, taking the air. Lizzy found the petite upstairs maid to be a pleasant, friendly sort of person and took great enjoyment in spending the morning playing with Daisy and talking with the young maid.

  She learned that Mr. Darcy had promoted Clarabelle to be Daisy’s nursery maid, a decision with which Lizzy heartily agreed. The gentleman clearly had a sense for such things. Elizabeth soon learned Clarabelle was a natural with the baby, having six siblings of her own.

  “I’m afraid the milk we’ve been giving her does not agree with her wee body,” the young woman confided in Elizabeth.

  “Indeed? And have you consulted with the doctor?”

  “We have, ma’am,” Clarabelle confirmed. “Mr. Darcy had Dr. Smith check on the child first thing. But there is nothing to be done. The child must eat, and we have naught here to feed her but the milk.”

  “The milk does not suit her?” she asked.

  “No indeed, ma’am. She has horrible bouts of crying, so often is she upset by it.”

  “The poor dear!” Elizabeth said, looking down at the now-sleeping baby in the carriage.

  “But Mr. Darcy,” Clarabelle continued, “he is so gentle with her. I’ve never seen the like. Holds her himself, he does. Walks up and down the nursery just to calm her.”

  Elizabeth was silent for a moment, remembering her encounter with Mr. Darcy in the nursery just the night before.

  “That is very good of him,” she said at last. “Not many a man of his age and situation would have either the skill or inclination to do so.”

  Clarabelle suddenly stopped and lowered her head, bobbing a curtsy as she did so.

  “Good morning, Clarabelle, Miss Bennet.” It was Mr. Darcy’s voice. He was quite near, and Lizzy wondered to herself whether he had heard her praise of him. Part of her wished he had, for after abusing him so abominably to his face, she hoped to make amends.

  “I saw you walk past my study window,” the gentleman said, “and thought I might join you. Ah, I see Daisy is asleep.”

  “Yes, sir,” Clarabelle replied.

  “Then let me relieve you of your duties, Clarabelle. I shall return Daisy to you in the nursery in twenty minutes’ time.”

  “Yes, sir,” Clarabelle said again. And she turned and left them alone on the lawn.

  Elizabeth smiled up at her new companion. “Shall we continue walking, sir? I am afraid Daisy might wake if we are still for too long.”

  Mr. Darcy indicated his agreement, and they began to walk back the way she had come toward the formal gardens on the side of the great house.

  “You have experience with children then, Miss Bennet?” Mr. Darcy asked.

  She laughed, giving him an arch look. “With four younger sisters, you must have assumed as much. Yes, I do have some experience with children though my knowledge of babies has come from my closeness with my aunt Gardiner.”

  “Of course,” he replied. “She and Mr. Gardiner have four children, do they not?”

  “Yes, that is right,” she said, surprised by his knowledge of this.

  “And are they all at home at present?”

  “They are at my home in the care of my sister Jane. My aunt and uncle did not think they would enjoy the long carriage trip to Derbyshire.”

  “The journey from London can seem long, indeed,” he replied. His hair blew about in the slight breeze. He was silent for a ti
me, though Lizzy did not find herself to be bothered by it now. At length, he spoke again. “You missed the departure of our other guests,” he said.

  Lizzy bit her lip. It had been terribly ill-mannered of her not to say farewell to them.

  “You must think me very rude,” she admitted. “I am sorry that I did not return in time to wish them a safe journey. I did feel, however, that they might wish to have a private moment with you before their departure.”

  “I allowed them no such privilege,” Mr. Darcy replied, and Lizzy was rather shocked to see he was grinning. Had she ever seen him smile in such a way? She smiled back unconsciously.

  He looked down at her for a moment, a look of contentment on his face such that she had rarely seen. Before she could contemplate its meaning, he spoke again.

  “Your uncle and I discussed the possibility of visiting Dovedale tomorrow. Would you be interested in walking to the peak of Thorpe Cloud? The view of the valley is quite beautiful this time of year.”

  “I would love to,” she replied truthfully. Indeed, having been deprived of the Lake Country, she had hoped to see as much of the Peak District as possible. Daisy had so disrupted their holiday that Lizzy had not been sure they would see much of Derbyshire at all.

  “I know your holiday has been much altered by Daisy’s sudden appearance, Miss Bennet,” Mr. Darcy said, echoing her thoughts. “I hope that you and your aunt and uncle will be able to tour the surrounding country in your remaining time here.”

  “Even if we do not,” Elizabeth replied, “Pemberley is beautiful enough on its own, and with so many walks and woods to ramble through, one may take a week’s time to explore them all with as much enjoyment.”

  It was a rather bold statement, she knew, especially since she had refused to be mistress here. And yet, she felt she must tell Mr. Darcy her true feelings about the place. It was his home and, she was coming to understand, his sanctuary. It felt of great import to share with him the deepness of her approval of such a lovely corner of the world.

  Mr. Darcy said nothing for a time. Elizabeth, having decided to be honest in a moment of feeling, began to fret that she had offended him by opening the old wound of their terrible encounter in Kent. When he spoke, however, his voice was quite gentle.

  “I feel a lightness of heart here at Pemberley that I feel nowhere else. It gladdens my soul to hear you speak such words of praise about a place so very dear to me.”

  Elizabeth did not know how to respond to such an honest declaration of feeling, so she said nothing. Suddenly, Mr. Darcy stopped pushing the pram and turned to face her.

  “Miss Bennet,” he began, “last night you seemed very near to forgiving my unpardonable interference between your sister and Bingley. You mentioned a condition. I confess that I have thought of little else since that moment. Please, what condition might I fulfill to win your forgiveness? In this matter at least.”

  Lizzy felt herself flush at this little speech. That her forgiveness meant so much to him—after all the unjust things she said to him—filled her with such feeling that she could scarcely form her thoughts into words for a moment. Deciding at last to make a clean breast of it, she looked up into his rather dark eyes and smiled.

  “Only that you forgive me, sir,” she said at last, though her words came out in a breathless whisper and not the teasing manner in which she had planned.

  His brow furrowed. “I can think of nothing that would require my forgiveness, Miss Bennet.”

  “Now, sir,” she replied, regaining her humor at last, “this will not do. You cannot claim to be ignorant of my wrongdoings.”

  “I cannot but claim ignorance, Miss Bennet,” he countered.

  Her courage left her, and she found she could not detail her failings for him in the way that seemed necessary. Her silence must have garnered some sympathy from him, for at last, he spoke again.

  “Are you perhaps referring to the evening we last spoke in Kent?” His voice, she thought, was rather strained, and Lizzy instantly regretting ever alluding to it. Why, oh why could she not have forgiven him outright without seeking to ease her own conscience?

  “Forgive me, Mr. Darcy,” she said, her eyes remaining on the grass at her feet. Nearby, a songbird trilled out a beautiful song, happy to welcome the day. Just an hour ago her happiness had matched its own; now her spirit was filled with regret. “I did not mean to give you pain by recalling that evening. I only wish to say that I am…” She forced herself to look up into his face. He was staring down at her with such a stern look of expectation that she nearly couldn’t finish her statement.

  Yet her courage always rose in such situations. She looked at him squarely. “I am sorry for the unjust things I said that evening, Mr. Darcy. It was very wrong of me to treat you so abominably, and I apologize.”

  ***

  Darcy gazed down at her, this woman who so enchanted his heart and filled his mind. She had just apologized for her words in the parsonage. It was an unexpected balm to his still-smarting wounds. And yet, for which words was she apologizing? Surely not all of them.

  “Do not be uneasy, Miss Bennet,” he said, hoping to calm her, for despite her forthright manner, he could see she was in some distress. “You were right in all your claims save one, and you had no way to know that the last had been false. You spoke with honesty and truth, a trait of yours that I have long admired.”

  Elizabeth looked down again, her cheeks flushed with pink. Darcy had no desire to make her unhappy, yet he could no longer hide his continued affection for her. He had resolved to show her how much he had changed and to win her affection if it was possible to do so.

  “Indeed,” he continued, “it was your words that night that urged me to look inward, to examine my character. I have been a selfish creature all my life, Miss Bennet, and it was you who showed me this. I continue to be grateful for the revelation, for it has allowed me to make a fresh start, to strive to correct these defects of character as best I can.”

  “I am grateful for your kindness, Mr. Darcy, but I cannot think that my words that night were anything but rude and spiteful. I am very sorry, and I…I…” He felt all the awkwardness of her position.

  “Let us not argue for the greater blame then, Miss Bennet. Neither of us behaved in such a way that, if closely examined, would reflect great civility.”

  She gave a shaky laugh then, and the sound brought relief to his senses.

  “I suppose you are right, Mr. Darcy. Shall we make a fresh start?”

  A fresh start. He would have given the moon for just such a chance. Stopping one again, he bowed formally and said, “I would be grateful for such an opportunity.”

  He put as much feeling into these words as he dared, and she seemed to understand the deeper meaning behind them. She met his gaze steadily and nodded ever so slightly. Unconsciously, he took a step closer. She merely stared back at him, her eyes wide.

  At that moment, a disgruntled cry came from Daisy’s carriage. Elizabeth closed her eyes for a moment then let out what sounded very much like a nervous giggle.

  “I told you, Mr. Darcy: you mustn’t stop walking.”

  Chapter Eight

  Lizzy found she could hardly concentrate on her aunt and uncle’s conversation during luncheon—so filled were her thoughts with Mr. Darcy. His words in the garden kept chasing each other through her mind: his plea for his forgiveness, his desire to start afresh. She could think of little else.

  “Lizzy dear, you are quite far away this afternoon,” her uncle said genially.

  “Forgive me,” Elizabeth replied quickly, casting an apologetic smile at their hostess. Mr. Darcy had excused himself from luncheon, busy as he was with estate business.

  Georgiana smiled back without a trace of censure on her lovely features. “I was merely offering you and your aunt and uncle the use of our phaeton this afternoon should you wish to see more of the grounds.”

  “What a lovely idea,” Elizabeth replied.

  “Then it is settled,” Mr
s. Gardiner said with obvious satisfaction. “Shall we leave in an hour’s time?”

  However, at that moment, Carter arrived with two letters on a silver salver. He came to stand next to Elizabeth’s own chair.

  “Forgive my intrusion,” the butler said, “but the post has arrived later than usual.”

  Elizabeth thanked the man as she took both letters. “Two letters from Jane!” she exclaimed. “At last! I had been wondering.”

  Her aunt gave her an indulgent smile. “Well, Lizzy? Would you still like to join us in our tour of the park?”

  “Would you be very disappointed if I said no?” Elizabeth said. “I do so wish to read Jane’s letters.”

  “I thought you might,” her aunt replied with a smile.

  After luncheon, Elizabeth went again out of doors, choosing to read her letters in the lovely little rotunda that Mrs. Darcy had designed so many years ago. It had the look of an ancient Greek temple but had two small curved benches facing out toward the lake. The entire structure was surrounded by roses and lavender, and the smell of the flowers made Lizzy sigh with delight.

  Locating the first letter, Lizzy found her hopes answered within the first two sentences. Jane was engaged! Mr. Bingley had arrived at Netherfield two days ago and had proposed not one day after they had met again. Jane wrote sweetly of his declaration of love. He had given her the deepest apology about his sudden and prolonged absence. It seemed as if all Jane’s hopes and wishes were coming true. Lizzy put down the letter, gazing about her in wonder. How much had changed these past few weeks!

  With a happy sigh, she reached for the second letter.

  ***

  Carter had mentioned that the Gardiners were to tour the grounds this afternoon.

  “And does their niece go with them?” he had asked.

  “No, sir,” Carter had replied. “The lady preferred to stay at home.”