A/N: Thank you for all your reviews. As mentioned in the previous chapter, this one would be posted before Sunday and here it is. Enjoy, and drop me line, I always love hearing your thoughts. :) -DCM
Chapter 11
December 22
The next morning William woke to the sound of his mobile beeping repeatedly, its blue screen blinking '3 new messages'. It was the last working day of the year for the offices at Pemberley and at eight-thirty, it had already begun. He rose from his bed, taking his shirt off on the way to the bathroom.
Fifteen minutes later he was bathed and dressed, walking past Elizabeth's closed door. He paused for a second then thought better of it, heading straight for the kitchen. After the dishes had been done and the house locked up, they bid each other a pleasant goodnight in the hallway, with plans for breakfast around nine in the morning.
He got to work at once, pulling the eggs, butter and gruyere from the fridge and placing them on the tiled worktable. The whisk made a scraping sound, hitting the sides of the glass bowl as the eggs turned frothy. He sprinkled it with pepper, looking over at the stove to see the butter sizzling in the frying pan.
William handled the pan deftly, turning a perfectly folded cheese omelet onto an empty plate in minutes, moving quickly to make the next one.
Lizzy came in and headed straight for the coffee machine, pouring out two cups of coffee and adding milk to one. She took a quick sip and leaned against the counter, cradling the large cup in her hand. She observed how fluid his movements were as he flipped the second omelet onto the next plate she assumed was hers. He glanced at her and she smiled.
"Good morning," she handed him his cup of coffee, which he accepted. "I see you picked up a few skills in the kitchen as well."
"Took a couple of basic French cooking classes - a birthday present last year," he explained. "Can't say much about the chef's hands, though I think he did have nice hair," William added, deadpan. She laughed softly. "Sleep well?"
"Yes. Hard not to, in a place like this. I feel terribly spoiled." They shared a smile. Four slices of bread popped out of the toaster just beside her and she arranged them on the rack, next to the butter and fruit preserves. William pulled up two bar stools and they ate their breakfast in the kitchen, elbows propped on the worktable.
"I spoke with Mr. Gordon - he's the executive director at Pemberley - this morning. It's the last day they'll be open for tours so he figures to complete all the books by the end of the day. He's expecting me around ten, and I'm afraid short of a lunch break I may have to take care of business til they close." He gave her an apologetic look. "Was there anything you wanted to do today?"
"No, nothing really. If you don't mind me tagging along... I'll stay out of your way."
William's face brightened. "Seriously? I won't be able to take you around, but you're more than welcome to join the tours. I can have you listed—"
"Sounds like a plan."
"I have to warn you it may take a while."
"I think spending an entire day at Pemberley would be good use of my otherwise unoccupied time," she quipped, and his mouth quirked into a grin.
P&P&P&P&P&P&P&P&P&P&P
William's car was rolling down the road leading to Pemberley barely ten minutes after they had left Blackwell. It was a private path that was well-kept, shoveled clean of snow, and always made ready for the family's convenience.
Lizzy kept her eyes on the scenery, waiting to catch her first glimpse of the great estate. Soon the trees thinned and Pemberley came into view. Her breath caught in her throat as the building's old yellow stone façade appeared before her eyes, framed by greenery and grounds covered in snow. It was an especially glorious sight.
"I'll need to first get you a pass for the tour. They have a guide taking people around every two hours, and you can join whichever group you choose." William looked over to Elizabeth and was rewarded with a grateful smile. "Are you sure you'll be alright? I feel terrible keeping you here while I work," he finished, turning the engine off and stepping out of the car.
"Would you stop worrying, I'll be fine." Lizzy closed her eyes and tilted her head towards the sky, then turned to look at the sprawling grounds surrounding the great estate.
"Alright."
They made their way to the offices, with William promising an anxious Elizabeth (who had looked disappointed that they were entering the house from the side) that she would have the opportunity to begin her tour from the estate's front lobby. She flashed him a sheepish grin.
"William! Glad you could make it in this early. We have quite a lot on our plate today." A ruddy-cheeked, portly brown-haired man who looked to be around his fifties approached them. William turned to her after greeting the man she guessed was Mr. Gordon. He looked at her with obvious curiosity and she smiled openly at him, barely catching William's quick wink.
"Mr. Gordon, I don't suppose we could spare a pass for the next tour?"
P&P&P&P&P&P&P&P&P&P&P
"… and these, you see, belonged to Lady Susannah Darcy," the guide announced, gesturing to a row of mannequins wearing gowns from the Regency era. There were several dresses ranging in style and simplicity, and the tour guide took care to explain each gown's material and corresponding function.
Lizzy gave the gowns due consideration as she passed each one, marveling at the richness of the evening dresses' colors and trimmings of lace and intricate embroidery.
She lingered behind the group to admire the oil paintings that lined the walls. William's ancestors looked back at her, the men tall and imposing on their own; looking less severe in the paintings beside their wives and children.
One thing – or rather, feature – caught her attention.
She stepped closer to contemplate on the Darcy men's facial features. She thought Edward Darcy's nose looked quite similar to William's but she wasn't sure, so she moved on to the next portrait to see if Andrew Darcy's nose had the same straight noble line. Now feeling more certain that the feature must be owing to genetics, she sought to find more evidence in the next room of family portraits.
Thomas Darcy, Gregory Darcy and finally William's father, George Darcy – no doubt about it: they all shared what she now dubbed the 'Darcy nose'. Lizzy stifled a giggle at the realization and wondered what William would think of her theory. She knew he found his nose a little too large sometimes; though the thought had never crossed her mind the entire time she had known him. In her eyes his nose perfectly matched the rest of his face; combined, his features were part aristocratic, part strong, and all beautiful in its masculinity.
Where had that come from?
She felt a flush rise up her cheeks. Being in Pemberley, surrounded by everything Darcy, had a curious effect on her. Lizzy heard the guide's speech from the next room and quickly made her way to rejoin the group.
The library was the next stop; and their guide went into a monologue of how it was, next to the enormous hall used for balls centuries ago, easily the largest room in the estate. Shelves towered twelve feet high, lining all of the walls but the one that faced the grounds before the grand house, which had windows showcasing the fountains. The abundance of books, he declared with pride, were by no means simply that: it was a cultivated collection, one borne from the work of many generations.
Soon they reached the indoor courtyard, the guide concluding the tour with an invitation to visit the house once improvements to the greenhouse and observatory were finished in January. A brief round of applause, and she went over to thank him personally, convinced by his urging that she needed to stop by the estate's gift shop for some warm raspberry-almond tartlets.
The weather was mild so Lizzy chose to enjoy her little purchase outside, settling herself on a lawn chair outside the bakery-cum-gift shop.
It was staggering - so much history in one place, and William, the living trustee responsible for it all. The notion was daunting, but her knowledge of the man promised he was no stranger to duty; how he had managed taking over his father's company all in stride at the age of twenty-six and kept it thriving made that clear.
Most described him as intimidating and perpetually formal, and with that amount of responsibility she believed it only natural that he was viewed as such. She had, after all, concluded the same many years ago. Except maybe for the intimidating bit - for the most part she merely presumed that next to her lively personality, he came across as extremely reserved.
She popped the last bit of pastry in her mouth, took a sip of her tea then dusted her hands together, picking up the booklet of Pemberley she had stowed in her purse. For a good while,
Lizzy occupied herself with accounts of the estate, its occupants and history as she thumbed through the pages.