The Perfect Bride for Mr. Darcy (12 page)

The Darcy townhouse was buzzing in preparation for their departure to Pemberley. Servants were busy making sure that everything that would be needed at the manor house was downstairs, so that it might be loaded onto the wagons that would precede the travelers.

Darcy had seen how his sister’s eagerness to get on the road could barely be contained. Although Pemberley did not have secret passageways and dark corridors or skeletons in its closets to stir her imagination, Georgiana had stated that she was ready to be in the place where she was most comfortable, and in that, they were in complete agreement.

Bingley was also eagerly awaiting the day of departure. Until recently, Miss Bennet’s name had not been mentioned by Charles in Darcy’s presence, but now he was making casual references to their time in Hertfordshire and the pleasure he had derived from that lady’s company. Darcy suspected that his friend was either in correspondence with Jane Bennet or that he planned to visit her on his way back to London. In either case, Bingley would have his blessing since Darcy now knew from Elizabeth that her sister was in love with his friend. Once the couple was reunited, his own plan to win Elizabeth could go forward.

His hopes for success were based on meager evidence: Elizabeth clinging to his letter outside the parsonage and Anne’s visit with her in which Elizabeth had stated that she bore him no ill will. If that were the case, then she truly was capable of forgiveness. In the weeks since he had left Kent, he had sufficient time to reflect, and he cringed when he thought about his boorish performance at the assembly, which had set the tone for all that followed. But now that she knew the truth about Wickham, surely she would see him in a better light. It might possibly cause her to reevaluate her own performance and her refusal to see any good in him at all.

Caroline Bingley was especially keen for this day to come. Because Mr. Darcy obviously had a purpose in mind in inviting her to the Darcy ancestral estate, she was hoping he would ride in the Bingley carriage, but she had learned that Mr. Darcy and her brother would accompany the carriages on horseback. Perhaps their traveling together would have been too obvious, and as Mrs. Darcy, she would have to accept that her husband would never wear his heart on his sleeve. Because of concern for Miss de Bourgh’s health, the party would stay for two nights with friends of the Darcys in Derby. After a night’s rest, Mr. Darcy would continue on to Pemberley to prepare for his guests’ arrival. She wondered what surprises were in store for her.

When Darcy went to the breakfast room, he found that his cousin had already been up and about for an hour. Anne was every bit as excited as her eighteen-year-old cousin, and her happiness was clearly in evidence in the glow of her face.

“Well, Anne, I see the servants are already bringing down your trunks.”

“I am not embarrassed to admit how much I am looking forward to going to Pemberley.”

“I hope you will not be disappointed. I find that memories, especially from one’s childhood, very often do not live up to the realities.”

“But, Will, I am not going to Pemberley just for the memories, but to make new ones. Besides, you tell me that the maze has been kept up, and I am in such fine fettle that I might very well chase you through it as I did so many years ago.”

“You are more likely to encounter Georgiana, Mrs. Hurst, or Charles Bingley in the maze. The last time they were at Pemberley, the three of them spent hours in there, but then part of that was due to Mrs. Hurst, who seems to lack any sense of direction. Georgiana finally had to tie little ribbons to the end of each row, so that she would know which way to turn. Otherwise, we would have had to have gone in search of her by torchlight.”

“She is a simple creature, is she not?”

“The Bingleys are a family of opposites. George Bingley is a genius, and Louisa is most definitely not. She told me that one of the things she liked most about Mr. Hurst when she had first met him was that his brother served in the Exchequer. When I asked her how that benefited her, she said she had no idea. She just liked the sound of it. And now she is married to a man whose greatest pleasures in life are cards, port, and sleep. And then there are Charles and Caroline. He is as engaging a fellow as you are likely to meet, while his sister often looks as if she has just sucked on a lemon.”

“You do know that Miss Bingley is
very
interested in you.”

“It would be impossible not to know, although I have never given her any encouragement. In fact, I have to check myself to make sure I am not being rude to her, and there are many times when I have failed.” Looking at Anne, he continued. “Having said that, you are probably wondering why I invited her to Pemberley. You see, there are two sets of Bingleys. Charles, Louisa, and Caroline are separated from the six older Bingleys by six years. It seems that the older siblings bundled them together for convenience, and although they are as different as three people can possibly be, they are inseparable. But I look to Georgiana to keep them entertained. She too is aware of Miss Bingley’s interest.”

It was at that moment that Georgiana made her appearance, already wearing her traveling coat, hat, and gloves. “Why are you sitting there? Adventure awaits.”

***

On the advice of the innkeeper, Mr. Gardiner had arranged for an open carriage to take them to Pemberley. “Mr. Culver said we shall pass through some very fine woods on the way to the manor house with stone bridges, rushing streams, and a waterfall. Once we pass the waterfall, the formal gardens will come into view, and as soon as we reach the top of the rise, Pemberley will be before us.”

Elizabeth was aware that her aunt was watching her. She knew her behavior had been odd ever since the possibility of visiting Pemberley had been discussed, so she was trying to give the appearance of calm. But beneath her placid exterior, she could feel the rapid beating of her heart.

When the coachman pulled the carriage to the side of the road so that they might enjoy the waterfall, she wanted to get out and run ahead so that she might finally glimpse Pemberley. When the driver turned into a topiary garden and pointed out a mother goose and her five goslings and a hedge with only the tail of a fox showing, she oohed and aahed. But if he made one more stop, she was going to climb into the driver’s seat and turn the horses in the direction of the manor house.

Finally, she could make out the faint outline of a building in the distance, and as the carriage came over a gentle rise, before her was Pemberley with the sun reflecting off the yellow gold of its stucco. It was so beautiful she almost wanted to cry. Mr. Darcy had wanted to bring her here as his wife, and of this elegant home, she might have been mistress. But to all of this, she had said “no.”

When the carriage stopped in front of the portico, Mrs. Reynolds came out and introduced herself, and the three guests did the same. As soon as they entered the foyer, the housekeeper began her tour.

“As far as great country houses go, Pemberley is not very old. The grandfather of my present master, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, tore down a smaller structure that had been on this property for nearly one hundred years, and construction of this house began around 1730. Mr. Darcy’s father made improvements to Pemberley by adding the two wings and the terrace and greatly expanded the gardens. The interiors were done by Robert Adam, and the gardens and terrace were designed by Humphry Repton.”

“I am surprised there are not more people touring this elegant estate,” Mrs. Gardiner remarked.

“Oh, we have many visitors, but we are only open to the public on Mondays.”

“But today is Wednesday, Mrs. Reynolds.”

“Yes, but you were expected. Miss de Bourgh wrote to me to say that Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner of London would be arriving with a young lady. Are you a friend of Miss de Bourgh’s?” Mrs. Reynolds asked Lizzy.

“I had the pleasure of making her acquaintance on a visit to Kent,” Lizzy answered, looking at her aunt from the corner of her eye.

“Do you know my master will be arriving tomorrow with a large party, and Miss de Bourgh is with them?”

Lizzy shook her head “no.”

“Since you and Miss de Bourgh are acquainted, will you be visiting while she is at Pemberley, miss?”

“No, I am sorry. That is not possible,” Elizabeth quickly answered. “Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner and I are to leave tomorrow morning for Matlock, but Miss de Bourgh and I have visited recently so I shall leave her to her company.”

Now, both her aunt and uncle were looking at her. It was true they were to go to the spa at Matlock, but nothing had been said about leaving tomorrow. And why was Elizabeth deliberately avoiding someone whom she claimed as an acquaintance? It was time for aunt and niece to talk.

Mrs. Reynolds quickly returned to her favorite topic. “I have been with the Darcy family since I was a girl. I started here as a parlor maid when Lady Anne Darcy was a new bride. She was as gentle a soul as ever drew breath, and Mr. Darcy was a loving husband and father. And their children are just like them. Miss Georgiana is as lovely a young lady as you are likely to meet, and my master is kindness itself. You will never hear a harsh word said against him. His servants, tenants, and all the villagers hold him in the highest regard.”

While the housekeeper pointed out a Rembrandt here and a Greek antiquity there, Elizabeth took in the manor house as a whole. Pemberley was all she had imagined and more. There was a simple elegance in all that she saw. There were no larger-than-life paintings of a pack of hounds bringing down a stag as there had been at Rosings or the great battle scenes at Blenheim, and dusty tapestries were nowhere in sight. No, here there was a lightness that carried you from room to room and finally out onto the terrace for a view of the gardens and the valley beyond. She would not have a changed a thing.

“I will now turn you over to our head gardener, Mr. Ferguson, who will lead you on a tour of the gardens. It is such a lovely time of year here at Pemberley. It is my favorite season as the buds on the fruit trees are just beginning to open, and they are filling the estate with their perfume.”

Once she met the ancient Mr. Ferguson, Lizzy understood why Anne had said he would be eager to share his knowledge of Pemberley. He might possibly have been alive when Mr. Darcy’s grandfather had scraped the original house off the property. The gardener’s eyesight and hearing were poor and his gait slow, but the colors and the scents of the flowers were so familiar to him that he could describe every bloom even if they were now nothing more than splashes of color to his tired eyes.

While her aunt and uncle walked to the far end of the garden so they might view Pemberley from a distance, Lizzy walked the paths between the individual gardens. It was all so beautiful, and she felt a calmness she had not experienced since that day at the parsonage when the master of Pemberley had told her he was in love with her. Whoever the future Mrs. Darcy was, she would be mistress to one of the loveliest estates in the country, and she wished her well.

***

Darcy was looking forward to a bath. It had been a long morning, and the dust of the road was clinging to him. But there was nothing like a ride on a good mount to banish unwanted thoughts. For the first time in days, he had not reflected on his plans regarding Elizabeth Bennet, and now that he had stabled his horse, he must continue to keep his mind free of her image. First things first. He had guests to entertain on the morrow.

He immediately went in search of Mrs. Reynolds, who would not be expecting him until the next day. There was a time when his sudden arrival would have been welcomed by his housekeeper, but he had noticed that as she aged, she no longer enjoyed surprises. She wanted everything to be just so, and so he tried to give her as much notice as possible, whenever possible.

Mrs. Reynolds was sitting in her office going over the household accounts when he poked his head into the room. She immediately jumped up and greeted him with a big smile. She had seen him grow up from a sweet child into a considerate man, and nothing impressed her more than the care he had taken with his sister following their father’s death.

“I apologize for not getting word to you that I would be arriving a day early, Mrs. Reynolds. I left my sister and the rest of our party in Derby, and I thought I should come ahead so that I might meet with Mr. Aiken and get some of the estate business behind us. In that way, I shall have more time for my guests.”

“Oh, sir, it is no bother. You know how I love surprises. Earlier today, I gave friends of Miss de Bourgh’s a tour of the house.”

“Friends of Miss de Bourgh? Do you know their names?”

“Yes, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner of London and guest.”

“I do not recognize the name.”

“It was not more than an hour ago that I took them into the gardens. Shall I go see if they are still out there?”

“No, do not trouble yourself. You may return to your books.”

He wondered why Anne had said nothing to him about her friends visiting Pemberley. If she had only mentioned it to him, he would have arranged with Mrs. Reynolds to have a light meal served out on the terrace.

Looking down at his filthy boots, he debated whether or not he should introduce himself to the Gardiners in such a condition. Looking out of the library window, he saw that their carriage was still in the drive, but that the driver was nowhere to be seen. If he moved quickly, he would have time to go upstairs to wash his face and comb his hair.

From his bedroom window he could see a couple at the far end of the garden, and walking in the lower gardens, he could just make out the figure of a woman, possibly their daughter, who was walking backwards along the gravel path. There was something familiar about her; maybe he did know her after all. But he could not put any face to the name of Gardiner. Well, it was a puzzle that was easily solved, and after looking in the mirror to make sure that he had got all of the dirt off his face and neck, he went downstairs and headed for the gardens.

All was quiet at Longbourn. Many changes had come about since Jane’s outburst. Kitty had stopped whining about the absence of Lydia and the militia, and to everyone’s relief, Mary had stopped singing because of Johnny, the youngest of the Gardiner children. While Mary was croaking out a lullaby, the youngster had put his hands over his cousin’s mouth and had asked her not to sing. Everyone in the family now owed a debt of gratitude to the four-year-old boy.

For Jane, the greatest benefit was that her mother had stopped asking when Mr. Bingley was likely to return to Hertfordshire. In as firm a voice as she could command without being disrespectful, Jane had answered the question with one word. “Never!”

That evening, after they had retired, Mrs. Bennet complained to her husband about the new Jane. “I do not understand her at all. She has changed, but to my mind, not for the better. She is very short with me these days, and I cannot think why.”

“Mrs. Bennet, you truly cannot think why Jane is unhappy? Allow me to enlighten you. When Mr. Bingley dined at Longbourn, you itemized our daughter’s assets as if she was being put up for sale in the village marketplace. At the ball at Netherfield, you announced to everyone within hearing that Jane would shortly become engaged to Mr. Bingley even though he had not made her an offer of marriage. But the mangling of Bingley and Jane’s relationship rests with all of us, myself included. Out of laziness or a desire to be left alone with my books, I allowed my two youngest daughters to go out into society without proper preparation. Although she has no talent, I permitted Mary to sing in every venue, and now Jane has paid the price for you saying too much and me saying too little. But I can assure you, Mrs. Bennet, that is a thing of the past. Where correction is needed, I will not hesitate.” And then he blew out the candle.

While her father and mother lay in their bed discussing their eldest daughter, Jane had been sitting at her writing desk trying to think of something to write to Mr. Nesbitt. How did one respond to a letter that said nothing? In December, when they had talked at her Aunt Susan’s holiday party, the gentleman spoke at length of his occupation as a solicitor and the importance of putting as little in writing as possible, as it could be used as evidence. Apparently, this rule applied to personal correspondence as well. On that same occasion, he had asked if she knew that an oral contract was as binding as a written one, thus accounting for the lawsuits originated by the aggrieved party of a breach of a promise of marriage. The inappropriateness of discussing broken engagements with someone he was considering courting was lost on Mr. Nesbitt.

That letter was bad enough, but the second one was much worse as he had enclosed a lock of hair. Jane was offended that Mr. Nesbitt was so presumptuous as to make such a personal gesture so soon after they had begun corresponding. But that was not the worst of it. Although she could not account for all the gray in the sample, when she opened the folded paper, she had assumed that it contained her suitor’s hair. But then she had learned from the letter that it was his widowed mother’s hair. Was this his way of saying that Mrs. Nesbitt would be living with them after they had married? That was something Mr. Collins would do, and she shuddered at the thought of the two men having anything in common.

But write she must, and so she put pen to paper and began, “Dear Lizzy.”