Seeing Georgiana had done good for Darcy. Her charming face was just the thing he needed after solitude had nearly driven him crazy. Being with her had reminded him that he still did have something to live for—Georgiana needed him, even if Elizabeth Bennet did not.
Of course, Georgiana had been eagerly curious about his trip to see her. After all, he could not keep many secrets from her, especially when his best alibi was going to see Lady DeBourgh, whom they both detested. He couldn't bear to relive his torture, much less burden the light heart of his sister with his woes, so he glossed over the bulk of the trip. He knew he hadn't been able to keep some of the pain and desire from his voice, though, and Georgiana had avoided the subject ever since.
He had been so comforted by her presence, in fact, that he couldn't bring himself to leave again, even though he had plans to. Instead, he decided to stay and listen to the soothing sound of Georgiana's piano. He decided, too, to be a little more unreachable for a few days, leave the property open for visitors as if he weren't home at all. Let people wonder about what business Darcy had elsewhere, and let him be a recluse for a little longer, to lick his wounds.
To forget about his enchantment with the beautiful, intelligent, fiery Elizabeth Bennet. As if he could.
Her first view of Pemberley simultaneously took her breath away and made her sick. Cold apprehension flooded her veins, and immediately she wanted to run. Her aunt and uncle were so enchanted they didn't notice her discomfort. She wondered if it was too late to feign illness or to be consumed by some great hole in the ground. She felt like already all eyes were on her, as if everyone knew exactly what had transpired, like her life was some spectacle everyone had seen.
Her face burned in embarrassment as they approached the steps. She thought at any moment she would simply die, her heart would stop and she would fall to the ground. As they entered the house, she expected at any moment for Mr. Darcy to round a corner and throw her out. What gall she had, entering his home after rejecting his proposal!
The housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds, showed them around the house. It was grander than her wildest imaginings. Over and over again she imagined walking through the halls as its mistress, she imagined the feeling of home that would wash over her upon entering halls this grand. Perhaps the library was the greatest sting of all—all those books could have been hers.
They entered the gallery, and Elizabeth was in awe of the art adorning the walls and the sculptures over the door. Many of the paintings she imagined were of the Darcy family, and some of the men bore likenesses to the face that had haunted her for weeks.
That's when she saw it: a painting of Mr. Darcy himself in all his grandeur, looking out over the gallery with a look of content. She was so struck with the likeness looking down upon her she froze, unable to look away and yet unable to breathe.
"That is my master, Mr. Darcy," Mrs. Reynolds said, coming up behind her.
"A handsome face," Mrs. Gardiner commented, looking at Lizzy's presumably pale face. "Is it a true likeness?"
"Does the young lady know Mr. Darcy?" Mrs. Reynolds asked.
"A little," Elizabeth said voicelessly, still transfixed on the painting. They got the eyes right. Piercing, intelligent, and oh so blue.
"Do you not think him a handsome man, miss?" Mrs. Reynolds asked, a smile in her voice.
Handsome. Images from her fantasy flashed through her mind: the bronzed skin of his chest, his dark glossy hair, his tantalizing lips. Slowly, she remembered her voice. "Yes. Yes, I suppose he is."
She heard the others move on to the next piece, but her legs wouldn't move. She was paralyzed before the Darcy in the painting, her heart in her throat.
"This is his sister, Georgiana. She plays and sings all day long."
Lizzy tried to glance at the likeness of his beloved sister, but didn't quite manage. Suddenly, her heart stopped. Was that a piano being played in the house?
"They are at home?" She couldn't quite keep the panic from rising in her voice. The urge to flee was back with a vengeance. It was all she could do to remain standing still.
"Miss Darcy is always down for the summer. Mr. Darcy is due tomorrow."
"Is your master much at Pemberley?" Mrs. Gardiner asked.
Lizzy's heart slowly started to beat again. Tomorrow—close but no reason to panic. And Georgiana would probably know nothing of her, so she would just have to avoid notice.
"Not as much as I would like, or he—for he dearly loves it here."
"If he should marry, you might see more of him," Mrs. Gardiner said, and the words struck Lizzy in the heart for a reason she couldn't quite understand.
"Yes, madam, but I do not know when that would be. I do not know a lady who is good enough for him."
Lizzy swallowed hard. She thought of his heartfelt words, his wretched confession of love.
"What do you mean?" Mrs. Gardiner asked.
"I've known Mr. Darcy since he was a boy. He was always a kind and generous person even then. Not everyone can see it, because he does not make a meal of it like a lot of young men nowadays. But he is the most sweet-tempered and kind-hearted man I have ever known."
Nausea rose in Elizabeth's stomach. Could she have misjudged him so harshly? Could it be possible for him to be as horrible as she thought when his housekeeper loved him so much? Certainly her perspective on him should be the most accurate. She doubted he could hide his true nature from someone who saw him so much.
Elizabeth felt panic seizing her. She had to get out of the house. Silently, she darted out a door onto the terrace. Immediately the fresh air made her feel less faint, but the disgust she felt for herself did not fade. Her tendency to judge quickly had never led her this far astray before, and she could hardly stomach the fact that she, not Darcy, was in the wrong.
The piano music washed over her, and she let it fill her mind. As long as the music was there, she couldn't concentrate on the thoughts that made her head spin. The music was so loud, it had to be near. Georgiana had a delicate and talented hand. Elizabeth blushed when she thought of her piano playing at Lady de Bourg's house. If this is what Darcy was accustomed to, her clumsy plunking must've sounded like noise.
Shyly, she peeked in through a window towards the music. Her eyes fell upon a beautiful pianoforte, and then drifted towards the player. Georgiana was certainly as beautiful as Darcy was handsome. Her face was flat with concentration, but joy sparkled in her eyes.
A taller figure stepped into the room, but she could not see him clearly for the shadows. Elizabeth thought it might be a valet summoning Georgiana for a meal or a caller. The figure approached Georgiana from behind, and then covered her eyes with his hands. Georgiana's hands flew off the keys as she shook with laughter.
Panic stopped Elizabeth's heart yet again. She wondered if she would survive this shock. She was frozen, watching. Georgiana stood to embrace him, and he stepped into the light. There was no mistaking his face; it was Darcy. He and Georgiana kissed, and then he glanced towards her.
Finally, her desire to run had an outlet, and she took off towards the grounds, taking the stairs two at a time.
"Miss Bennet!" Mr. Darcy called after her but she couldn't face him. Suddenly, he caught her by the arm.
She turned, her face burning with absolute mortification. His face was red as well, and she imagined his embarrassment rivaled hers. His azure eyes were bright as he looked at her face. He looked handsome as always in his shirt and breeches, and Lizzy could not help but observe the contours of his legs beneath the tight fabric. She imagined clutching his behind with her hands in a fit of passion, and she could feel the color in her cheeks grow darker.
"I—I thought you were in London," Lizzy stuttered, as if this were an excuse for her transgression.
"No," he said. The following pause was heavy, and he broke it long before its time. "I'm not."
"No," she agreed. Her tongue felt thick.
Another hellish silence. She could hear her heart beating in her ears.
"I came here a day early—"
"I wouldn't have come—"
"Some business with my—"
"I'm terribly sorry—"
They both stopped speaking suddenly, and they met each others' eyes. His were full of emotion, but Elizabeth couldn't describe it. Certainly it was full of energy and she desired to break the spell.
"I'm visiting Derbyshire with my uncle and aunt," she said, as if they were old acquaintances who ran into each other in town.
"Are you having a pleasant trip?" he asked, his eyes softening. Suddenly she was seeing the side of him Mrs. Reynolds loved, the side of him that was gentle and kind. There was eagerness in his eyes, true interest in her mood and enjoyment.
"Very pleasant," she answered, and was surprised at the ease of her smile. "Tomorrow we go to Matlock."
"Tomorrow?" Disappointment crept into his tone, but he recovered quickly. "Are you staying in Larnbton?"
"Yes. We're staying at the Rose and Crown." Was that too much information?
He looked at her for another long moment. Her mouth went dry.
"I'm sorry to intrude," she said suddenly. "They said the house was open for visitors. I had no idea…" She was rambling now, so she cut the sentence short.
"May I see you to the village?" he asked. She could hear the hope in his voice. She shouldn't have come here; she had given him the wrong idea.
"Oh no!" she stammered. "I'm very fond of walking."
"Yes," he said quietly.
They looked at each other again. The tension was palpable. She imagined again for the thousandth time kissing him, touching him, running her hands through his hair. There was a burning in the pit of her stomach that she couldn't quite understand. She daren't touch him for fear she would spontaneously combust.
"Goodbye, Mr. Darcy," she said to break the awful silence.
She turned to start the walk back to the village, but she could feel his eyes burning into her back. Her legs moved unconsciously forward, and for that she was grateful, because if she had had her way she would've run back into his arms.