A/N: Thank you for the note about Darcy Ranch. It's an excellent point, and I will definitely address it if I ever publish this. For the meantime, I'll keep ranch because it's in all the chapters already, but the reminder is very much noted and appreciated!
The greenery outside the carriage grew increasingly verdant as William travelled northward. Some research on Newton's part, and some perusal of Father's correspondences and papers, had indicated that this estate called Pemberley had indeed existed - although visiting it would require extensive travel for William. It had taken a few days of consideration before he and Georgiana had concluded that the visit was necessary.
It had taken him a fortnight afterwards to ready the ranch and to entrust its daily matters to his workers, although the accounts remained under Georgiana's care. Having to lay such a burden upon his sister's shoulders had convinced William that, should he ever be fortunate enough to wed, it would be in everyone's best interests for him to have as many children as possible. It was a blessing to have Georgiana, but he had always hoped to have a brother.
"Up ahead sir!" A voice hollered outside. William grunted as a thank you before he glanced outside his window.
The gasp he uttered was rather unmanly, but it was also inevitable.
Was Father always richer than he had ever revealed in America?
With nary another building in sight, it was obvious that his hired coach was approaching Pemberley. The large house rose impressively above the foliage, even as its colors blended with the mountains behind it. Gardens and hedges and gates sprawled generously around the main house. The wide path weaved gracefully from road to entrance, and William pondered for a moment if this was the sort of grandeur the colonies had rebelled against sustaining.
His brief stay in London - with all the city's clamor and rush - had not prepared him for the serenity of this sight. He had always known Father to be a man who admired beauty. Darcy Ranch was by far one of the best kept ranches in their state. But now, as he alighted the coach and stood with his small trunk at the foot of the grand staircase, William understood why his father had never forgotten England.
What the New World exhibited in fierce, uninhabited natural beauty, this estate countered with stately and elegant grace. If the widespread acres of Darcy Ranch represented ambition, Pemberley represented tradition.
And for the first time in a long time, the confident William Darcy felt slightly small.
"Sir," the coachman called out when William had stood far too quietly for far too long at the mansion's threshold.
"Ah, yes." William reached for his money. The way the English divided money put his mental prowess to the test, and William was glad he had always felt an interest in arithmetic.
With his fares duly paid, William reached for his belongings and proceeded towards the entrance. He had sent word ahead of his arrival, although the terms had been stated in deliberately vague terms. Newton had cautioned him, after all, of the dangers of professing to be a traveling heir. One never knew what sort of unscrupulous ruffians one might encounter. It would be best to avoid any allusions to titles or inheritances until the matter had been entirely settled.
A servant greeted him at the door.
"Good day, sir, welcome to - " the man - a servant, or footman, William presumed - stopped short. His eyes seemed to train themselves on William's face for a brief, shocking moment before he cleared his throat and bowed once more. "Good day, sir, and how may I help you?"
"I - I am Fitzwilliam Darcy, from America, and I was sent by my - by the late Mr. George Darcy to visit his estate."
The footman nodded gradually, as if he had a hard time understanding. William wondered if it was the strangeness of his accent or the servant boy's youth preventing full comprehension.
"I - I shall - kindly please wait, sir," the boy blurted.
William nodded as the footman almost scurried away. The entrance hall, as one would expect, was grand and decadently decorated. William wondered how many servants each day were required to maintain the house in such pristine condition. Despite the difference in material and location, Father's preferences still permeated the place. The colors of the walls spoke of him, and the light from the windows angled almost exactly like those of Darcy Ranch did.
Whether or not William was truly the heir to such a regal home - there was no doubt that it was a Darcy home.
"Whatever is the matter?" A young woman's voice carried down the hall. William turned towards the voice and straightened himself.
Although Father clearly left Pemberley for months or years at a time, it was apparent that the place was being kept running in perfect condition despite his absence. Surely, an excellent housekeeper was in charge.
"Mr. Darcy? Are you certain?" the lady's voice reflected the doubt in her question. Muffled noises indicated that someone must be answering her open queries.
William wondered if he ought to practice his smile. He was in mourning, but manners were still in order. If he were to be the new master of Pemberley, then it would do well to begin an amiable relationship with the staff.
The sounds of rustling footsteps and skirts indicated the mysterious lady's approach. William decided to smile - slightly, not vehemently.
And then the lady appeared - lovely and tall and stately with her every stride. She did not look like the pampered ladies he had seen in London's shops the prior week, with their plumes and their trappings. There was a freshness to this lady's movements and expressions - a vitality to her bottomless eyes.
William noticed belatedly that he had stopped smiling and was staring instead.
"Good morning, sir," she greeted with gentle authority as she approached him. She was not the housekeeper; there was no way this lady was a housekeeper. "Mr. Darcy, is it?"
William nodded deeply, almost bowing.
She curtsied as well. "I fear that we had not anticipated your arrival as well as we should have. Please forgive me as the staff makes the necessary arrangements."
William wondered if he was to speak as formally as she did. The servants behind the mysterious lady all took turns stealing glances at his face.
"Thank you," he answered bluntly.
The lady nodded, her smile kind. "Now, if you can please excuse the gaping - "
The servants collected themselves under her rebuke. She was clearly the mistress of the house, or at least one with authority lent to her.
"Perhaps we can have you wait in the drawing room," she finished her statement with a glance at William.
"Thank you," he muttered again. She nodded before turning in a way that was clearly meant for him to follow. And that was when William asked, "And may I know, ma'am - how I am to address you?"
She turned slightly, then she smiled as if she found herself silly for not having thought of mentioning her name until now. "Bennet, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Shall you follow me, Mr. Darcy?"
"Of course." And William did.
"We shall have your room in order in no time, and the master shall be down to greet you shortly," Miss Bennet explained with perfect composure as William settled down on the least imposing chair he could find amidst the finery of the drawing room. He was a large man, even by New World standards, and he felt almost beastly in the sea of minuscule embroidery and detailed furnishings.
"The master - yes," William mumbled. Father must have placed a steward or a person in charge of Pemberley, and it was natural for others to call him master. William reasoned with himself as well as he could. "And you - Miss Bennet?"
"What about me, sir?"
"Are you not the master?"
She blushed prettily, and William almost wished he could offer his hand for a walk, or a dance - or anything.
"I - I merely help where I can," she sounded almost apologetic as she spoke. She remained standing by the door, although she stopped looking as if she would step through it at any moment. "We - that is, my family - we are here as guests, and I do hope we make ourselves useful."
William almost blurted that she hardly looked or acted like a guest. No guest could act with such graceful authority among a household's servants and command such respect. She had to be a person of significance to Pemberley, even if her evasive answers gave him rather little information to consider.
"Do you wish for tea?" Miss Bennet offered, the consummate hostess once more.
"I - " William only noticed then that he was rather parched from the journey. He wished for stronger drink - perhaps a hard drink, or even coffee. Here in England, however, he supposed he had to settle for tea. "I would appreciate some, yes."
Miss Bennet nodded, and a servant quickly stepped forward to prepare said tea.
"How shall you take it, sir?" The young girl asked timidly.
Again, William felt almost too large for the dainty china and its pastel content.
He cleared his throat, "No milk or sugar, thank you."
The servant girl obliged, and William thanked her accordingly. It pleased William, for no reason at all, that Miss Bennet seemed to look approvingly at him across the room.
"Ah, there you are!" A shrill female voice, accompanied by heavy footsteps, rang through the room as the door that had been left ajar swung open in full. "Eliza, you should have said things more clearly!"
William watched with quiet fascination as the woman, bedecked in garish colors from head to toe, sauntered into the room. She plopped down on the most colorful chair rather unceremoniously.
"Caroline, we have guests," Miss Bennet chided.
"Who? Where?" The overly dressed woman glanced all around the room, her hands upturned, before her eyes settled upon, perused throughly, and then glared at William. "This country bumpkin here?"
"Caroline!" Miss Bennet warned.
William cleared his throat. "It is no matter, Miss Bennet."
"Ha, Miss Bennet now, is it?" Miss Caroline scoffed. She transferred her haughty gaze towards Miss Bennet. "Have you been playing mistress of the house again, Eliza? You are James are engaged, you must know, not married."
William felt a slight pang of disappointment that the beguiling Miss Bennet was already betrothed. Unlike most engaged women, however, Miss Bennet appeared almost uneasy about being reminded of her affianced state.
"This has nothing to do with James," she stammered.
And William wondered if there was anything he could do to alleviate her clear discomfort.
"Did someone say my name?" At long last, a male voice emerged. Miss Bennet and Miss Caroline both drew their eyes towards the door. William followed suit, just in time to see the well-dressed gentleman stagger into view and walk unevenly - almost drunkenly - through the door and into the room. "We have a guest, you say?"
Only then did William look up towards the man's face - and gaped.
The resemblance between them was uncanny - surreal. Thick brown curls sat atop both their heads. William did not have to stand to know they shared similar heights. The man's face was slimmer, almost tapered, while William's jaw sat wide and strong. His eyes were blue, while William's were green. In every other way, however, they were practically copies of the same man.
No wonder the servants had stared.
"And who are you?" The man tossed at William.
William stood. "Fitzwilliam Darcy, from America, sir. I was sent by my - by Mr. George Darcy to visit his estate."
Slowly, the man nodded, seemingly sobering right before their eyes. Then he straightened himself to his full height. "And I am James Darcy, son of the late Mr. George Darcy - master of Pemberley."
A/N: I hope you liked this chapter!