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With a start, Elizabeth realised that Mr Darcy had not simply entertained her family; he had invited them into his most personal spaces—all of them, even the ‘cabbage-headed’ ones. And she wondered what it meant, and was almost afraid to hope.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
THE RIGHT WAY ROUND
Darcy could not sit. Instead, he paced back and forth across the drawing room that overlooked the front drive, gazing out the windows, looking for signs of his houseguests—hours before they could possibly be expected. One question and one question alone haunted him: Would she come?
He was reasonably certain she would not wish to miss any celebrations surrounding her sister’s wedding. Surely she could not hate him so much as that.
Her father, however, had been unusually hostile—at least until Pemberley’s library had won him over. Did he know? Had she revealed the bumble-headed proposal? Somehow, he did not think she would.
A line of carriages making their way up the long drive captured his attention at last, his heart rapidly beating at the sight. Was she here?
Bingley joined him on the wide terrace facing the steps to the drive. “You need not worry, old man. She will be with them.”
“We cannot be sure,” Darcy replied.
“I know it. My dearest Jane says Miss Elizabeth’s letters are full of a longing to be near family. She will not miss an opportunity to spend this time with them.”
“Perhaps we should not have kept it a surprise. She might have required more preparation.”
“Surprise is your best friend in such a matter,” Bingley argued. “Giving her time to recall all the reasons why she ought to avoid you would be the worst notion ever. Trust me, this is your greatest opportunity.”
Darcy glanced over at his friend, who seemed to have settled amazingly in the last few months. Bingley had given up a good deal of possibility for himself with his soon-to-be bride; Darcy was certain that his friend could have aligned himself with one of the titled families struggling to re-establish financial security. Miss Bennet would bring him nothing in the way of such advancement, nor add any of society’s polished gleam to his family name. Yet, he was happier, more content than Darcy had ever seen him.
“I have always known that Miss Elizabeth would be a fine mistress of all this,” Darcy said, with a wave of his hand back towards the house. “Yet I was raised with the expectation that I must bring more to support its future. My guilt, as much as anything, led to my incredible blunders with her.”
Bingley only smiled. “Why feel remorse because you wish to marry for love? When one has found the right sort of woman, the companion who helps him to be a better man, who helps him care more about what is most important, helps him wish to act with true honour because he never wishes to disappoint her—what more could your ancestors desire of their scion? The aim of your existence cannot simply be obtaining wealth for wealth’s sake.”
Darcy nodded, seeing the wisdom in those words. “I recognised one of life’s truest treasures, but I doubted my instincts. I doubted her, and subjected her to an infamous proposal—never even realising that she was the one my father searched for all those years ago, who had done our family a kindness he never forgot. Why should she think me capable of honour, or ever believe me a gentleman?”
“Because you are one, sir,” Bingley said with what Darcy thought a slightly excessive joviality, clapping him on the shoulder. “You unexpectedly discovered the girl of your dreams, and you lost your head. Every man is allowed an imperfection once in a great while, even you. Here they are; let us go down.”
Elizabeth need not have worried that her meeting with Mr Darcy would be awkward; with her family surrounding her, chattering away excitedly about Elizabeth’s house and the length of the drive and the comfort of the carriages and the beauty of Pemberley, everyone speaking at once, it seemed almost a usual day in the life of the Bennets.
He, along with Mr Bingley, was waiting for them as she alit from the Darcy coach. She saw the look in Mr Bingley’s eyes as he greeted Jane, and knew a brief moment of envy.
“Mr Darcy, are there diamonds in the fountain?” Lydia asked, her eyes wide as she stared at the sparkling surround at the head of the drive.
He smiled—and not one of mockery; rather, his eyes crinkled at the corners, as if he smiled often, and his explanation was mild. “No diamonds. Quartz and glass were ground within the plaster, to help reflect the light.”
Elizabeth could not blame Lydia for asking; Pemberley took one’s breath away. Lydia, Kitty, and Mary followed Jane and Mr Bingley up the steps, their bright gowns shining against the white granite, their parents following more slowly.
“It is lovely,” she murmured softly, gazing around, unable to take it all in so quickly.
“I am glad you think so,” Mr Darcy said, startling her with how close he suddenly was. “How was your journey? Were you comfortable enough?”
“Oh, yes. I am still overcoming my surprise,” she replied.
“I am certain you would like to rest for a few minutes before dinner. I will have Mrs Reynolds show you up. Please, if there is anything at all that might be done to increase your comfort, you will let her know at once.”
“Thank you, Mr Darcy. And…and I truly wish to express my gratitude. You have made my sister, my whole family, very happy, and you cannot know how fortunate I feel to be able to attend her during this joyous time, in such a delightful place.”
“I hope you and your family will make yourselves at home.” He bowed, his expression sober, and led her to the housekeeper—a robust, friendly woman who could not have been more gracious.
Her rooms—a generously sized bedchamber and attached sitting room—overlooked what seemed miles of gardens, with Pemberley Woods in the far distance. From her windows, she saw so many paths and shrubberies and little bridges and follies, with a stream cutting through the acreage at various points, that discovering each beauty would take weeks. The room was decorated with hand-painted wall-papers, a rug so lush that it might have been Axminster, and green silk hangings surrounding a large, intricately carved bedstead. She was unsure as to the accommodations of her sisters, but she was in a room fit for a duchess. What could it mean? He had slandered her family most cruelly—if accurately—and now he had opened his exquisite home to them all.
After she had changed out of her travelling clothes—with the help of Stretton and an obliging maid promptly assigned to her—she immediately found her way to the first of the lovely gardens nearest the house. She felt as if it were an enchanted place; she wished to see it alone the first time, to take in its beauty in a way that would permeate her soul, and there was not much daylight left to enjoy it. She had not been strolling for long, however, when Mr Darcy joined her.
