These Three Remain (38 page)

“Yes, sir. We shall attend to Master Trafalgar.” Mrs. Reynolds looked up wonderingly at him.

“Excellent! Ten minutes, Mrs. Reynolds!” He continued up the stairs and all but ran to his dressing room. He shed the dusty clothes of his morning while at the same time searching through the neatly hung and ordered garments. Good Heavens, what should he wear? Nothing too imposing. Would hunting attire be too casual? Would she regard it an insult? His gaze ranged over the choices before him. “Fletcher!” he groaned aloud. “What in blazes should I —” A knock at the door interrupted his plea. “Enter!”

“Mr. Darcy, sir! Is there aught amiss?” Mr. Reynolds poked his head in first and then, seeing his master’s distraction, entered. “You required a footman, sir. Is Mr. Fletcher not with you or shortly to arrive?”

“No, Sherrill’s note brought me ahead on horseback, but it is very urgent now that I attend to my guests.”

“Guests, sir?” Reynolds was confused. “None of your guests have — Oh, the visitors! But they are out in the park, sir; you need not trouble yourself.” Another knock sounded.

“The water!” Darcy jumped to the door, much to Reynolds’s surprise. “Come in; pour some in the basin and set the rest over there,” he directed the brawny youth. “Very good; that will be all.” He turned his attention back to his astonished butler. “It is of incalculable importance that I trouble myself for these particular visitors. If I can prevail upon them to return to the house, they should be treated with the utmost courtesy.” A sudden anxiety seized him. “They were well cared for earlier, I trust?”

“Yes, sir. Mrs. Reynolds conducted them personally. The young lady claimed some little acquaintance,” he offered.

“Yes, that is true…” Darcy turned back to his wardrobe and stared at its contents.

“May I help you, sir?” Reynolds briskly stepped forward. “I believe I may be of equal or better service than a footman.”

Surprised at such condescension, Darcy turned to his butler, a man he had known most of his life, to behold one still possessed of all the dignity of his office but with an understanding twinkle in his eye. “Yes, you may.” He nodded toward the wardrobe. “The doeskin breeches, I think, the tan waistcoat and dark brown coat. A plain neckcloth, mind you, and shirt. The brown-topped boots…and a clean set of all else.”

“Very good, sir. All shall be ready.” The old man straightened his shoulders before this new duty.

“Thank you, Reynolds.” Darcy’s lips twitched against an incipient grin. “I will not be long.”

Despite his impatient speed and Reynolds’s surprising alacrity with his clothes, it was almost a half hour before Darcy clattered down the courtyard’s steps and onto the drive. Where Elizabeth was now in the vast expanse of the park had occupied his thoughts as he had finished dressing. Old Simon would keep them to the usual paths shown to visitors, but where exactly might they be? He scanned the perimeter of the wood that girdled the near park. Knowing her stamina, they might be anywhere, but he doubted the endurance of her older companions. He narrowed his search. There! A flash of color among the trees that overhung the path meandering by the river gave him his course. He set off, judging that even at such a pace he had a quarter hour in which to prepare to meet her.

They had made a beginning, but he was in no position to say how good a one. It was very possible he was striding toward a woman who would rather he were at the Antipodes than coming to escort her to his home. He called up the emotions that had crossed her countenance as they had spoken. Confusion, embarrassment, both had cast their shades over her loveliness, but there had been no trace of aversion or the cool politeness he had feared in an imagined encounter. Nor welcome either, he reminded himself. Well, there was no help for it! He could not stay away from her, not here on his own lands, where he had the best chance of showing her, expressing to her, his gratitude for what she had done for him. A fullness of heart came hard on the heels of that thought, and the incredible good fortune of her visiting Pemberley seized him again. He strode on until, rounding a curve in the walk, he came upon them.

This time she was able to greet his arrival with her usual self-possession. He had hardly risen from his bow when he heard the words “charming” and “delightful” applied to all she had surveyed. Schooling his features to display a more moderate pleasure at her words than he would have liked, he thanked her. “Charming” and “delightful” were commonly ascribed to Pemberley by visitors, but never before had the accolades held such significance. Elizabeth found his home charming and delightful. Better and better. His elation was short-lived, however; for no sooner had he thanked her than she colored and fell silent. At a loss for the change in her demeanor, he hesitated. He must engage her again, restore her ease in speaking to him. What? Her companions! How could he have ignored them for so long! They must think him…

“Miss Elizabeth, would you do me the honor of introducing me to your friends?” The look she returned him to this request was a curious mixture of surprise and amusement. Whatever it meant, he promised himself as he followed her to where her friends awaited, he
would
meet it with credit.

“Aunt Gardiner, Uncle Gardiner, may I present Mr. Darcy? Mr. Darcy, my uncle and aunt, Mr. Edward Gardiner and Mrs. Edward Gardiner.”

Relations! He looked at them in surprise. He should have guessed, but the placid gentleman and lady before him were as unlike the family members with whom he was familiar as he could imagine. “Your servant, sir.” He bowed.

“And yours, sir,” Mr. Gardiner replied. “We have been thoroughly enjoying your house and lands, Mr. Darcy, and must tell you at once what wonderful attention your servants have bestowed upon us. We have been made more welcome at Pemberley than at any other great house we have visited on our holiday.”

“I am glad to hear it, sir!” Darcy smiled at the genuine pleasure in the man’s voice. “We are pleased to have earned such a good report.” He turned to the lady. “Ma’am, I hope that the park has not been too fatiguing for you. It is quite a distance around.”

Mrs. Gardiner smiled brightly up at him. “I confess, sir, I am tired but have rarely been so pleasantly rewarded for the effort. Pemberley is lovelier than words can tell.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” He bowed. “If I may, please allow me to conduct you back in Simon’s place. I think I may know almost as much as he about the way.” To this they readily assented, and dismissing the grateful gardener back to his pruning, Darcy took up a place next to Elizabeth’s uncle as they set out. It was but a few minutes before he discovered Mr. Gardiner to be not only a man of particular intelligence and taste but a fellow fisherman as well. Delighted to have hit upon something they held so closely in common, he invited his guest to fish the river whenever he desired and offered him tackle and advice on the best spots for sport.

In the midst of the men’s fishing stories, the ladies before them descended to the river in exclamation over some water plant of unusual parts. Mr. Gardiner, in fine humor, recommended they stay on the path until the feminine raptures were done and the ladies returned. Although he would have liked to have had a part in Elizabeth’s short expedition, Darcy remained with her uncle, watching the proceedings closely lest any accident befall them.

“My dear,” Mrs. Gardiner addressed her husband upon returning to the path. “Your arm, I beg of you. I fear I am more fatigued than I had believed.”

“Of course, my love.” Mr. Gardiner stepped forward smartly. Darcy’s hopes expanded. As the Gardiners fell behind them, he moved forward to Elizabeth; but she greeted this new arrangement with silence, the brim of her bonnet serving as a barrier to him. Committed to his course, he prepared to begin again with her.

“Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth’s voice issued from behind her bonnet brim. “It seems that your arrival today was very unexpected, for your housekeeper informed us that you would certainly not be here till tomorrow; and indeed, before we left Bakewell we understood that you were not immediately expected in the country. Otherwise, we would never have dreamt of invading your privacy.”

“Indeed, that had been my plan,” he acknowledged, “but I received yesterday a note from my steward that required my presence sooner rather than later, and I came forward a few hours before the rest of the party with whom I am traveling. They will join me early tomorrow.” He paused, wondering how she would receive the information, then continued. “Among them are some who will claim an acquaintance with you — Mr. Bingley and his sisters.” Only the slightest of bows indicated that she had heard him. Darcy looked away, his lips pressed together in dismay. The conversation was circling in upon itself, and he had no notion of how to elicit something more from her. In fact, his mention of the Bingleys may have prompted her to decamp from the area as quickly as possible. But she could not go! Not before he had shown her that he was, indeed, a different man than that one who had accosted her in Hunsford’s parlor. Not before Georgiana had had an opportunity to meet her whom she had so wished to know since his mention of her last autumn. He laid hold of that thought.

“There is also one other person in the party who more particularly wishes to be known to you.” He took a deep breath. “Will you allow me, or do I ask too much, to introduce my sister to your acquaintance during your stay at Lambton?” What followed as he bent to hear was a jumble of expressions, the sum of which tended to her willingness and pleasure in fulfilling Miss Darcy’s wish of acquaintance and that, yes, she would be happy to receive Miss Darcy the day after she arrived home. When she had finished, silence again descended upon them, but it seemed to Darcy it was of a different sort than had plagued them before. She was pleased; he could tell it, and he was content.

They were soon quite in advance of her relations, nearly to the house. As they approached, they slowed, and looking down at her, he asked, “Miss Elizabeth, will you walk into the house?” He was rewarded with a brief upward flash of her eyes. “You must be in want of rest or refreshment, and within you might await your aunt and uncle in some comfort.”

“No, I thank you, Mr. Darcy,” she replied, “but I am not at all tired.” There followed more silence. He observed her anxiously, wondering how he should go on. Then, suddenly, Elizabeth began to speak of the other great houses she had seen during her holiday, and they were able to share observations and opinions on estates and gardens in the neighborhood until Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner arrived. His invitation to walk in was repeated, but to no avail. They were much obliged but it had been a very long day and they must return to the inn. A lad was sent to the stable yard, and in short order, the carriage was brought forward.

“Mrs. Gardiner.” Darcy handed her up into the carriage with care. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet.” He turned to her and performed the same office, not caring that her relations might notice the softness in his voice or the lingering of his hand upon hers. He stepped back from the carriage but stayed to watch them long after it was needful, and even then, he walked slowly back to his door. He had made a beginning, and she had consented to receive him in two days’ time. It was enough.

Darcy’s gaze searched the confines of his book room in growing exasperation. Was there nothing that could distract him long enough to allow his mind and body to settle into more rational courses? How was he to meet the mundane and obligatory when every part of him was so very alive to the events of the afternoon? After leaving the pleasurable sight of Elizabeth’s curious, backward gaze at him from the carriage, he had retired to his book room and study with the intent of preparing for the interview with his steward that had called him forward. But when the study door was safely shut against any chance observance by his staff, he found himself utterly unable to do so. For a quarter hour now he had paced the room, incapable of any thoughts save those that centered upon the surprise and delight of discovering Elizabeth at Pemberley. The words they had exchanged, the time spent so closely in her company crowded his brain and heart. Jostling them for room was the anticipation of their next meeting, an appointment that sent distracting sensations flashing along every nerve. It was not until Witcher’s knock and the announcement of Sherrill that respite from the sweet agony of his reflections was forced upon Darcy and any other subject could be entertained.

His steward’s concerns required he return to the saddle and accompany him out to deal with several difficult cases among his tenants and examine an unexpected obstacle to the draining of a field bordering the Ere. Several hours later found them still pondering balance sheets and hay production estimates spread out upon his book room desk. Finally, nodding his leave to go with a reassuring smile, Darcy dismissed his much-relieved steward to his dinner and the task of putting his directives into motion. The difficulties that had occasioned his early return he had met with some rather innovative solutions that had not easily won Sherrill’s confidence. In the end, Darcy had prevailed, not an uncommon scene within these walls over the generations of Darcys who had ruled here. But as he looked about him from the perspective of his desk, the events of earlier that day returned to possess Darcy, and this, his haven and seat, strangely became too small to contain all that now strove in his breast. Rising, he took a deep breath. He must steady himself, somehow integrate that hard-won sense of himself into this opportunity Providence had bestowed. In short order he found himself pushing open the doors to the conservatory, the Eden of his parents’ creation.

The fragrance of fertile earth and summer blossoms enveloped him as he stood just inside, the doors behind him swinging shut of their own accord. In the gathering dusk he could still distinguish his mother’s favorite chair among the vining exotica and, near to it, the lounge upon which his father had spent his last painful days surrounded by the living tribute to his wife’s artistry and their deep affection, each for the other. He looked up between the branches and vines into the darkening sky, where a clutch of stars was already visible, and inhaled the encompassing peace. Elizabeth was near. He imagined her at table with her uncle and aunt, smiling yet pensive behind those lovely, bright eyes as she reviewed their encounter in the privacy of her heart. With what anticipation did she regard their forthcoming meeting? Had she been as pleased with the conclusion as he had at first thought? It would be more than he deserved. Or had she been merely polite, caught as she had been on his lands?