Turning back to Elizabeth, she said softly, “I know your association with him was not particularly intimate, but if there is anything you can recall that either pleased or displeased him, I would be eternally grateful for any advice.”
Even if Elizabeth had any advice for the young lady, Rosalyn did not wait to hear it, for she turned back to the window and began to comment on how close they were—how soon it would be—before they pulled up and stopped.
Elizabeth distracted herself by helping Emily get ready. She smoothed the young girl’s hair and retied the bow at the neckline of her dress. The two were startled when Rosalyn let out a shriek.
“There is Mr. Darcy!” Pulling herself upright as the carriage slowed down, she turned her head slightly toward the window. “Oh my! He and Miss Darcy have come out to greet Lorraine and Richard. Is that not kind of them?”
A slight gasp followed and Rosalyn turned to them. With hushed excitement she exclaimed, “He is coming over! He is going to open the door for us himself!” Clasping her hands together, she whispered, “This is such an honour!”
Rosalyn promptly turned back, and a graceful calm swept over her as she smiled warmly at the gentleman at the door. Elizabeth watched, her heart pulsating wildly, but could only see his hand reaching in. She then heard his voice, “Miss Matthews, welcome to Pemberley.”
His voice was much warmer than she remembered, and the sound of it caused an unwitting shiver to course through her. Her heart pounded as she knew the moment had arrived when she would be forced to face him.
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” Rosalyn said warmly as she took his hand and stepped out with the cool elegance of someone completely at ease.
Elizabeth gave Emily a gentle nudge toward the door as his hand reached in once more. Emily took it and happily jumped down. Elizabeth looked down to gather her things as she heard him welcome the young girl. She then slowly slid across the seat to the door, fully expecting Mr. Darcy to escort her two travelling companions to the others and allow a servant to help her step out of the carriage.
Elizabeth clasped her small parcel tightly, looking around her for anything that may have been left. Once assured that she had everything, she took in a slow breath and closed her eyes to still her erratically beating heart. Upon opening her eyes, she became aware of a figure at the door. She slowly turned her head, at precisely the moment Mr. Darcy lowered his head to peer in.
As their eyes met, he drew back slightly. He pursed his lips and briefly looked down, taking a quick breath and letting it out.
When he looked up again, he asked, “May I?” and reached out his hand.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice soft and quivering slightly. Her mind was in such upheaval that she had to remind herself to move. She tentatively extended her hand toward him and he reached out to take it. His hand was warm to the touch, and Elizabeth was not prepared for the jolt of feeling that surged through her as his fingers clasped hers. A tremor passed through her that travelled through her fingers all the way to her toes.
Her eyes turned down as she hoped he was not able to readily discern in her expression the feelings he evoked in her.
Confusion swept over her. He seemed different. His eyes seemed softer than she had remembered, his voice more gentle. Yet there was something of surprise in his response when he first looked in and saw her, and Elizabeth wondered whether he had truly not expected her to come.
Once Elizabeth stepped out, she waited for Darcy to release her hand. She stood for a moment facing him, feeling all the awkwardness that their meeting again prompted, while at the same time experiencing a plethora of thoughts and emotions that were foreign to her.
He seemed to catch himself and released her hand abruptly, silently extending his arm toward the others. She walked ahead of him, grateful that he was behind her, but fully aware of his presence there. She inwardly chided herself for those unexpected and startling feelings that arose when she first beheld his face peering into the carriage. She would have to maintain a bit more presence of mind in his company. She must remember her place, and most of all, who she now was.
Darcy’s long strides drew him up alongside her, and she was flooded again with all the awkwardness of their last meeting. When she’d seen him that last day at Rosings, encountering him out in the grove, he had been solemn, abrupt, and spoke only what was necessary as he had handed her the letter he had written.
She walked in his shadow, yet there was something—which she could not define or describe—that alerted her to his presence, causing flutters deep within. She once looked upon him with disdain, but now, could her feelings be tangled with a problematic sense of regard toward him? She wished to let out a huff and stomp her foot and pound her fists in the air to rid herself of them.
They came upon the rest of the party, who stood in a circle conversing. Rosalyn had secured Miss Darcy’s attention, for which Elizabeth was grateful. The two young ladies were talking about their travels, Rosalyn conversing in a most animated, unnatural manner. Fortunately, the energetic conversations around her caused those earlier feelings she experienced to diminish.
Miss Darcy’s blue eyes lit up when she looked over at Elizabeth. With a genuine smile, she said, “It is good to see you again, Miss Bennet. Welcome to Pemberley.”
“Thank you, Miss Darcy. It is a pleasure.”
Elizabeth’s heart calmed adequately, having both initial meetings over, but she was at a loss to know where to fix her gaze. Mr. Darcy was situated behind her again, and she did not feel the freedom to look out over the park or up at the house, for fear he would suspect admiration on her part.
She could not deny that the woods and park were beautiful and the house magnificent, but she reasoned that if she gazed with admiration upon any of them, he might believe her to feel something like regret for turning this all down. She contemplated looking down at her feet, but felt that would only make the likelihood of those feelings even greater. No, the only place she felt she could look without any speculation on his part was up at the sky, for certainly Mr. Darcy could not rightfully claim any of it as his own.
After receiving profuse words of admiration for the park along with gratitude for extending the invitation to Pemberley from their guests, Mr. and Miss Darcy invited them inside. With each step Elizabeth took up the marble steps toward the great door of the house, she felt an increasing sense of eagerness to see the interior. She had certainly been captivated by the woods and grounds that surrounded Pemberley. The exterior of the home itself was truly magnificent. She was now fervent to view the home itself.
Putting away all thought of who the owner was—and to whom it had once been offered—she stepped inside with the others.
Elizabeth stifled her gasp but could not conceal her look of admiration as they stepped into the entryway. It was truly majestic, in a way that gave honour to those who built it centuries before, as well as its heritage through the years. She could not deny that it was everything agreeable to her sensibilities.
It took barely a moment for her mind to be settled on the subject. She could not—she would not—keep her views of the place to herself. It was far too beautiful for her to remain silent. Straightening her shoulders and taking a deep breath, she joined the others in their warm approbation.
“You have a beautiful home, Miss Darcy,” she said softly. Turning her head slightly, she met Mr. Darcy’s eyes and acknowledged him, as well, with a demure nod. “Mr. Darcy.”
He returned her compliment with a nod of his own, his eyes never leaving her face. Feeling an uncharacteristic blush threatening to spread across her features, she quickly turned back to face Miss Darcy. Unfortunately, Rosalyn had now garnered the young lady’s attention and was uttering unending words of admiration. Again Elizabeth did not know where to look, upon what to settle her eyes. It was all too grand in its aspect… too humbling in the realization that it could all have been hers.
“Thank you, Miss Bennet,” Miss Darcy replied after a moment, acknowledging her words of appreciation in the midst of Rosalyn’s effusive praise. “That is very kind of you.” Elizabeth readily noticed the look of discomfiture written across her features. Certainly her presence there reminded Miss Darcy of Mr. Bingley and her recent
