A/N: I was so flustered when posting this that adding a chapter title and author's note completely escaped my mind. So to new readers, I will extend to you all a brief welcome and tell you all that I truly hope that you will enjoy this collection of tourist's accounts. Please review, if you have a moment, and tell me what you think, for reviews are most appreciated.

A/N #2: I confess myself to be, at present, very mortified. I was rereading Pride and Prejudice when I happened to notice the most menacing little letter--an "e", nestled right between that l and that y in the word PemberlEy. I quickly brought up my account, and saw, to my horror, the mispelled PEMBERLY, in my title, my summary, and every chatper so far! How embarassing! So I write this little author's note to ask your forgiveness for my extremely absent-minded mispelling. I am sorry if it hindered your enjoyment of the story.

P.S. I'll try and update soon, if I can. I am so sorry to make you wait--life just seems to get in the way, does it not?

P.S.S. I'm sorry. Long author's notes suck.

The Addisons

On the day during which this story is set, Mrs. Reynolds had been a servant at Pemberley House some twenty-eight years. She had therefore become accustomed to the many tourists that came to the front door, wishing to tour the spectacular rooms and grounds. These tourists, it seemed, had only increased in frequency since the addition of a Mrs. Darcy to the household four years ago had caused a minor scandal among England's elite.

But the week in question had been strangely devoid of guests. Usually, they got some four visits a day. This was of some annoyance to Mrs. Darcy, Mrs. Reynolds knew, but Mrs. Darcy could hardly complain, for she had been a guest to the house once herself and looked upon the occasion with much felicity. This week, Mrs. Darcy had little cause for secret displeasure at their numerous visitors, for during the last six days there had been virtually none. Mrs. Reynolds attributed this to the unseasonably cold weather that they had been experiencing.

Thus, when the bell at the door rang at midday after almost a week of silence, both Mrs. Reynolds, who was dusting a table in the main hall, and Mrs. Darcy, enjoying a book in the parlor, were startled. Mrs. Reynolds jumped a little before smoothing her skirt and moving to answer the door. On her way there, she caught a glimpse of Mrs. Darcy, who had looked up from her book at the sound of the doorbell, and now returned to it with a small sigh.

Upon opening the door, Mrs. Reynolds saw a man and a woman, dressed as if they were mildly wealthy, come to tour the house. After introductions were made and they were reassured that yes, it was quite fine that they visit the house and no, there was no cost for the tour, Mrs. Reynolds led them into the parlor, the first room shewn in the visits.

They again went through a lengthy introduction with the warm and cheerful Mrs. Darcy, whom they appeared to like very much. As they turned to continue with the tour, Mrs. Darcy called,

"Mrs. Reynolds, I find myself in need of a good long walk on the grounds. In the event that Mr. Darcy returns before me, kindly inform him of my whereabouts and reassure him that I will return shortly. I'll be off now. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. and Mrs. Addison."

And with that, in a style very unique to herself, Mrs. Darcy set the book she had been reading spine-down on the table as to hold her place, and was off for her walk. She didn't seem to give much thought to her beautiful dress or the fact that she had no cloak to shield her from the cold; it was evident from the look in her eyes that her mind was already among the trees.

Upon Mrs. Darcy's exit, Mrs. Addison turned to Mrs. Reynolds.

"Your Mistress is very charming," said she.

"Yes, upon living among her it has become quite easy to understand why Mr. Darcy fell so in love with her."

"Is he still?" the woman wanted to know.

"Very much so, yes. They look at each other with the same eyes they did when they first entered Pemberly as husband and wife."

"That is good to hear, certainly. Do they argue?" she asked, with a glance at her husband.

"Not so much argue, I think, as quarrel. They're quite playful when they encounter something disagreeable, actually."

"Lovely. And how many are their children?"

"They have one small son, and then, of course, Mr. Darcy's sister Miss Darcy, whom they treat as their own. They are most loving to their children. And keep your voices low, for Mr. Darcy does not yet know this, but Mrs. Darcy has reason to believe that she is again with child."

"Oh!" Mrs. Addison exclaimed. The rest of the tour followed with Mrs. Reynolds much praising both her masters in a manner which did not hint that she was speaking falsehoods; it looked as if she truly adored everyone in the house.

Mrs. Reynolds left them upon their exiting the house to view the grounds. The Addisons bid the servant farewell and went off to explore the beautiful forest. They walked along the stream, and because Mr. Addison was a lover of fish, he frequently knelt before the stream to get a closer look. Their progress, therefore, was slow, and Mrs. Addison felt herself getting agitated with her husband.

"You are too slow for me, my dear. I think I'll walk ahead a bit."

He was too engrossed to reply.

He had always been a great lover of nature. It was one of the things about him with which she had fallen in love. He could sit, resting his back against a tree, for hours and hours, nothing in his head but thoughts about the swaying of the grass and the rustling of the leaves. She admired that, for she couldn't do any such thing. Wandering through a beautiful forest like this, her mind was on her failing relationship with her husband, and not with matters of her surroundings.

She had married, years ago, for love. It was a silly, frivolous thing to do, as she saw now. At the time of her marriage her prospects and her place in society were high, and with a little work she could have been the mistress of a place like Pemberley. She was a stupid, stupid woman. She could have had the glow that lights up Mrs. Darcy's face, rather than the dead sort of grayish hue that she saw on her own these days. Mr. and Mrs. Addison weren't poor, but their house was nothing special, and her daughters would go on to marry a man with 1000 pounds a year just as she had. How improved her situation could have been! It almost killed her to look back upon that now.

Oh, how she had loved her husband, with his open heart and his easy smile. He was a good man, a very good man, and at the time she had had no regrets. And these days, he took her criticisms like the good man that he was, which just made her resent him more.

She was stupid; she owed her own unhappiness to herself and getting to caught up in a man when she was younger. She could have been just like Mrs. Darcy. Mrs. Addison was unbearably jealous of the woman's situation. Of course Mrs. Darcy was happy and friendly—she had the world at her feet! Mrs. Addison lived a life of mediocrity when she could have had riches, a life of stress when she could have been careless.

But oh, how she had loved her husband.

She was broken out of her reverie by a voice, loud enough that she deduced it was quite near her.

"Lizzy!" called a man. Mrs. Addison turned in the direction from which the voice came, and saw a tall, dark man that she assumed to be Mr. Darcy. On following his gaze, she saw Mrs. Darcy sitting on a rock by the stream not so far in the distance. When he called to her, they both began to run to each other. On meeting, his hands took her face in his and their lips met. Mrs. Addison was quite shocked—clearly, they were quite sure that they were alone in their forest. However, Mrs. Addison was still a little surprised at that sort of behavior coming from two people of their rank. She averted her eyes, embarrassed, but couldn't bring herself to walk away from the scene.

When they broke apart, Mr. Darcy put his arms around his wife and held her to his chest. They stood in a casual embrace.

"How wonderful it is to say hello to you in private," he said quietly into her ear. "I usually have to restrain myself when I first see you after coming back from excursions such as these."

"Yes; it is quite nice to greet each other without an audience, isn't it?" she said into his jacket.

"Certainly," he agreed.

"How is my sister?" she asked anxiously, drawing back to look him in the eye.

"She is well. She requests that we come to stay at Howe for a week in a fortnight, for that is when she is due to give birth."

Mrs. Darcy's eyes were suddenly curious—she looked as if she was making a split second decision. Then a mischievous smile came to her lips and she began,

"Oh, how wonderful it will be, to have a child so close in age to my sister's!"

"But Fitzwilliam is almost twenty-three moons older. Surely that is not so close?"

"Why no, two years is not so close, but I daresay seven months is quite near."

Mr. Darcy looked very confused for a moment, before understanding entered his eyes.

"You're…?"

Mrs. Darcy looked at him for a moment, before a beautiful smile lit up her face and she nodded her head.

"Elizabeth, that is…I am so…" Mr. Darcy was at a bit of a loss for words, and he stuttered to try and make a sentence. He gazed into her eyes, and with each passing second his smile grew bigger. Suddenly, it appeared as if he could contain his joy no longer, and he began to kiss her with more passion than he had before. He hitched her thighs up around his waist without breaking the kiss so that he was holding her, and then he was spinning her, their lips still together.

Mrs. Addison felt her brain command her eyes to look away, but she could not. Her brain commanded her also to move her body, for at any second she would move within Mr. Darcy's line of vision and he would see her. But her body would not budge, and yet as she passed within his line of sight he did not see her; he had only eyes for his wife. Mrs. Addison felt as if Mr. Dacry could look at her square in the eyes and all that he would see would be Mrs. Darcy. She studied his countenance for a hint of the proud, self-important man of which she had heard tales, but saw nothing of the sort. At the present moment, his face was colored with nothing but adoration, a very becoming emotion for the man.

Upon three quarter's revolution, Mrs. Addison saw Mrs. Darcy's face, and saw that same glow of contentment on her countenance that she had had in the parlor, but intensified ten—no, one hundredfold! She was the happiest person that Mrs. Addison had ever seen.

And suddenly Mrs. Addison understood—Elizabeth Darcy did not get her happiness from fine jewelry, for she wore none but her wedding band. She did not get her happiness from beautiful gowns, for she had dirtied hers without seeming to notice. She did not get her happiness from grand mansions, for it was quite clear that she preferred to spend her time out of doors.

She got her happiness from her husband, and not his wealth or his status. Happiness lit up her face at the sight of him, not their house.

Perhaps Victoria Addison had not been so frivolous to marry for love.

Perhaps she had in her husband, a man that she truly did love dearly, a gift and not a hindrance. How curious this was! How different from her way of thinking these past five years!

Mrs. Addison forced her eyes away from the scene. This was a private celebration; she would leave them to it.

Instead of going ahead on the path, she turned back and walked along the stream. When her husband was within seeing distance, she called to him.

"Ben!" she yelled. He looked up, confusion distorting his boyish face in a way that made her heart beat just a fraction of a second faster. The smile of her youth appeared on her face, making her eyes light up and her cheeks color.

And she ran to him.