Chapter 13

The next week passed quietly but pleasantly. Mr. Althorpe was gone, and she had noticed a few days ago that Mrs. Parkinson seemed to have departed as well. She wondered what had caused that lady to give up the chase, but decided she did not care. She wrote letters to her father and Mrs. Gardiner, and told them about the publisher, Mr. Pritchard. She asked her father if she might go to London to present some of her work once they returned from Derbyshire. Her father had not written back yet, but Elizabeth was not surprised. He was not a faithful correspondent; and besides, had he not said he had some courting to do while they were gone? She and Jane had put their heads together to try to discover which widow from the area he was interested in, but could not come up with a satisfactory answer.

She had not written to them about Mr. Althorpe's attack. Maybe she would be able to tell her aunt in person, but she did not want such a recollection down on paper.

She worked on some new drawings and a story. She could always borrow the books that she had given to her young cousins to give to Mr. Pritchard, but did not want to take away the gifts she had given them. She decided to prepare a new one for him instead.

One morning when she was sitting out on the sunny front lawn, sketching, she was surprised to suddenly see Lady Dunmore at her side.

"Oh!" she cried.

"I am so sorry to have startled you, Miss Elizabeth. You must have been deep in concentration."

"I am afraid I am always so when I start working."

"I hope you do not mind that I interrupted you."

"Certainly not. I am always happy to see you. How can I help you?"

"I was wondering if you might perhaps want to come to see Pemberley today?"

Elizabeth lit up at once. "Pemberley? Truly? Is the whole party going?"

"Oh, no. Only a small group. I thought we could invite the Sedleys, Mr. Cranfield, Miss Bennet, and you, if you would like to go. Fitzwilliam has some business he has to take care of, and we thought we could make an outing of it."

"That is very generous of you," said Elizabeth. "I would love to see it!"

"He will leave in about an hour, if that is sufficient time?"

"It is," said Elizabeth. "Thank you so much for the invitation, Lady Dunmore."

"Of course," she said.

"I will walk back to the house with you," Elizabeth said. She gathered her papers and pencils and stood to stroll beside the countess. They walked in silence for a few moments, then that lady said, "We have all grown very fond of you, Miss Elizabeth."

"All?" asked Elizabeth curiously.

"Yes. I, Melody, and Lord Dunmore. My brother is especially fond of you," she added nonchalantly. Too nonchalantly.

"Is he?" asked Elizabeth, trying to match her tone, but feeling her heart beat speed up in excitement.

"Oh yes. We all should be so glad if there came to be a closer association between us." Lady Dunmore glanced at her briefly, then changed the subject, saying in a brisk tone, "You will love Pemberley, I am sure. It is surely the most lovely estate in the country."

She began talking of Pemberley, but Elizabeth was only half listening. Was Lady Dunmore saying what she thought she was saying? Was she intimating that Darcy had serious intentions towards her? That she, his sister, would be happy to have Elizabeth as a sister-in-law?

Then she had another thought: was that the purpose of today's visit to Pemberley? Lady Dunmore had only invited her party: Jane, Mr. Cranfield, and the Sedleys. Why would she only invite those particular people unless to include Elizabeth? Did she want Elizabeth to see her future home? Was that Mr. Darcy's purpose in inviting her? It was almost too much to hope.

She discussed the possibility with Jane when they were in their rooms getting ready for the trip.

"You think Lady Dunmore wants you to marry her brother?" Jane asked.

"It certainly seems that way from the way she spoke."

"Oh, Lizzy! Maybe Mr. Darcy has spoken to her about his intentions!"

"Do you think so?" asked Elizabeth, torn between doubt and excitement.

"Why else would he want you to see his home?"

"We talked about Pemberley when we were in London. He told me all about the library and said he wished I might see it one day. We certainly were no more than friends at that time."

"That is true, but you have spent so much more time together since then."

Elizabeth still was not sure, but she pondered it as they rode in the carriage toward Pemberley. She, Jane, and Mr. Cranfield sat on one side of the carriage, while Mr. Darcy and Lord and Lady Sedley sat on the opposite seat.

Elizabeth had seen a lot of beautiful country on the journey to Derbyshire, but Pemberley Woods were perhaps the loveliest of anything she had seen. The park was very large, and contained greater variety of ground. They entered it in one of its lowest points, and drove for some time through a beautiful wood, stretching over a wide extent.

Then Pemberley House appeared. It was a large, handsome, stone building, standing well on rising ground, and backed by a ridge of high woody hills – and in front, a stream of some natural importance was swelled into greater, but without any artificial appearance. Its banks were neither formal, nor falsely adorned. Elizabeth was delighted. She had never seen a place for which nature had done more, or where natural beauty had been so little counteracted by an awkward taste. They descended the hill, crossed the bridge, and drove to the door.

Mr. Darcy helped the ladies descend and led the party through the front hall. "Welcome to Pemberley," he said, but his eyes were on Elizabeth.

It was a resplendent, elegant edifice, inside and out; more magnificent than anything Elizabeth had ever seen, but without any gaudiness or artificiality of taste. Mr. Darcy put out his arm for Elizabeth to take, while Mr. Cranfield walked with Jane, and the Sedleys walked together. An elderly woman appeared and Mr. Darcy introduced her as his housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds.

"Welcome home, Mr. Darcy," said Mrs. Reynolds. "It is a pleasure to have you back."

"Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds. I wanted to show my friends some segments of the house. Perhaps you can have tea ready for us in an hour?"

"Certainly, sir," replied the housekeeper. Elizabeth perceived that she seemed more motherly than servant-like. She wondered how long this woman had known Mr. Darcy and his sister.

"We need to be back for supper, so we only have a few hours. What would you like to see first?"

Elizabeth knew what she wanted to see first, but the others all had various opinions, so Mr. Darcy decided to start with the music room and then move to the dining room, ball room, and then the portrait gallery. There were exclamations of well-bred admiration from all the guests as he moved them through the various chambers and hall ways.

"I do hope we shall get to see the library before we leave," said Elizabeth as they walked down the long hallway toward the portrait gallery.

Darcy turned to her with a smile. "I will ensure that you see the library, Miss Elizabeth," he said.

He showed them the portraits of his ancestors, and Elizabeth could see that the dark hair and dark eyes were certainly a Darcy trait that had been passed down through the generations. They passed down the line of portraits until they came to one of his parents, Mr. George Darcy and Lady Anne Darcy. Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy looked very much like his father, while Elizabeth could see that Lady Dunmore had gotten her looks from her mother, who was blonde-haired and blue-eyed. The couple in the painting did not look happy, and Elizabeth remembered that Mr. Darcy had told her his parents were not happily married. They had married for dynastic reasons, much as he had. She was interested to see a painting of his wife.

"This was my wife, Anne Darcy, née de Bourgh," he said. "She was twenty-eight when this portrait was painted, about a year after we married."

Elizabeth was surprised to see an unattractive, thin, frail woman looking back at her from inside the frame. For some reason she had built up in her head the image in a great beauty to match Mr. Darcy in looks. Mrs. Darcy did have light, wispy hair, which she noted Melody had inherited.

"How long were you married?" asked Lady Sedley.

"Only two years," replied Darcy. "She died in childbed."

She murmured condolences, but Darcy did not seem to hear them.

Next to Mrs. Darcy was a portrait of Darcy himself, taken when he was probably around twenty. He had been devilishly handsome at that age, Elizabeth thought. And yet, she preferred the older Mr. Darcy. He had a more mature look about him. She liked the lines about his mouth and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiled. His eyes were deeper and held a wealth of experience and character. He also had a stately appearance, and yet was somehow more friendly than the young, haughty man in the painting.

Next to it was a portrait of a girl of about eighteen, whom Elizabeth recognized at once as a younger Lady Dunmore.

"Do you have a portrait of Melody?" she asked.

"One was taken when she was about seven," he said, leading them over to it. "I also have a miniature of her in my study."

She certainly was a pretty girl, and had inherited her father's handsomeness even while getting her mother's hair.

"I have always wondered how you chose her name," said Elizabeth inquisitively as they walked back towards the main sitting room for tea.

"Anne chose it," said Darcy. "She said she did not want to name her Catherine, after her mother, and that there were too many Annes in the family already. My wife always liked music, but she did not play herself, so she chose the name Melody."

"I think it is a lovely name, although not common," said Elizabeth.

Darcy smiled at her. "Anne would have liked you," he said.

Elizabeth was surprised. "Really?"

"Yes, although I could not say the same for her mother, Lady Catherine. She would have despised your impertinence, even though she was impertinent herself."

The corners of Elizabeth's mouth twitched.

"Anne was sheltered and over-protected by her controlling mother. Part of the reason why I married her was to get her out from under her mother's thumb. We were the same age, and our mothers had decided when we were born that when we grew up we should get married. There was never any contract written out or anything like that. It was just a duty I knew I had to fulfill. But Anne would have liked you." He looked at her keenly. "She would have liked your liveliness, your gift for singing, your talent for drawing and stories. She had led such a dull life under her mother's reign."

"I am sorry I could not have met her."

Darcy shrugged. "I think she is happier where she is. She was never in good health, and it was doubtful she would have lived long, even had she not died in childbirth. I tried to make her last years more pleasant for her, but I do not think she was ever truly happy."

"And neither were you?" ventured Elizabeth softly.

He looked at her. "And neither was I," he replied in the same tone.

"Do you think you can be happy, Mr. Darcy?" she asked.

"I am already much happier than I was. But I think…" He looked at her earnestly. "I think I could be happier still."

Elizabeth's heart fluttered as she looked into his eyes. Before either could say anything more, however, they reached the main sitting room, where Mrs. Reynolds had tea laid out.

"Please, sit," said Darcy to his guests.

Elizabeth sat on a settee, just to see if Mr. Darcy would sit next to her, and to her delight he did. Lady Sedley served the tea, and Elizabeth asked Mr. Darcy more about the grounds and the gardens.

They all sat and chatted while they drank tea and ate finger sandwiches and biscuits. But as a half an hour passed, Elizabeth was getting more and more impatient to see the library. Finally, Mr. Darcy stood.

"We only have a couple more hours before we must return to Dunmore Manor. Would you like to see the library?"

They all agreed and followed him up the stairs to the most extensive and well-ordered library she had ever seen. It was astounding, and she stood in silence for a long time before she could speak.

"This is incredible, Mr. Darcy," she said, and saw his face light up at her praise.

"How are the books ordered?" she asked, walking closer to view some of the titles.

"There is a catalogue here that my great-grandfather set up," he said. "Books are ordered by subject and author's last name. If you are looking for a particular volume, you can search in the catalogue for it."

She walked over to a table where a large volume sat. Mr. Darcy opened it and she saw many hand-written entries. "Whenever I buy a new book, I add it to the catalogue," he said.

She looked through it, just for curiosity's sake. There must have been thousands of volumes altogether in the library. It would take her years to parse through them; maybe even the rest of her life!

"I'm afraid I have some business I must take care of now that we are at Pemberley," Mr. Darcy told his guests. "I must adjourn to my study. But if you need anything, do not hesitate to call for Mrs. Reynolds."

They all thanked him, and then with a bow he left them. Elizabeth turned back to the books, enthralled, and knew she would spend a very happy hour here.

Darcy walked slowly down the staircase toward his study, pondering the day. He had very nearly declared his intentions to Elizabeth. He thought she had understood his meaning, though. The question was, would she welcome his attentions if he did indeed propose? He did not kid himself that she could find someone better to marry; but if by any chance she loved him, he knew he could make her happy. He knew she would make him delirious.

The joy seemed to have come back into his life since she had entered it. If she did not accept him, he was afraid he would go back to that meaningless and depressed state that had encompassed him before. That was what made him hesitate to propose. If she rejected him, he would lose her forever. Was it better simply to be safe and keep her as a friend?

And yet, the house party was going to end in a week. He did not have much time left with her, unless he proposed and she accepted. It had to be worth the chance. If she rejected him, he would accept it, but there was a chance she would not. He had seen the softness in her eyes as she asked him if he could be happy. It was almost as if she knew what he was thinking in that moment.

Georgiana was sure that Elizabeth loved him. She had said so on more than one occasion. How she knew such a thing Darcy could not tell; but she was a woman. Were not women more astute when it came to romance? Still, she could be speaking out of wishful thinking. Georgiana wanted him to be happy. Talking about Anne with Elizabeth today had made him realize just how unhappy he had been, nearly all his life. There had been some years when he was a child, playing with his cousin Richard and George Wickham, before his mother died and Wickham turned bad. But after that he could not recall a time when he had been truly happy. He had felt fulfilled in some manner by doing his duty, he supposed. But was there not more to life than duty? Elizabeth could be the happiness that he could claim for himself.

His steward entered the study and disrupted his thoughts. He tried to focus on the business he had come to Pemberley to oversee; although that was disingenuous. He had really made up the business so that he could have an excuse to bring Elizabeth here.

He knew she had loved Pemberley, at least what she had seen of it. She had been so enthralled with the library that she had not even noticed him go, he thought with amusement. He was sure she would love the grounds just as much. And Melody would love to have her for a mother. She had taken to "Miss Lizzy" ever since they first met in the park in London, but especially since Elizabeth had gifted her with that extraordinary book. He was filled with doubt again suddenly. Why would such a wonderful young woman, filled with such vitality and creativity, choose an old man such as he? He remembered the day she had taught them to make daisy chains. He had never seen such joy and spirit radiate from a person before.

He looked out the window and could see the treehouse that he had had built for Melody's birthday housed in the branches of a huge oak tree on the lawn. Melody had not seen it yet, did not know about it; yet he thought she and Miss Elizabeth would have a grand time climbing up there and surveying their kingdom from up above. Maybe he could even move his old bones to climb up with them too.

He listened to his steward and filled out the paperwork he needed to do. He had not visited Rosings yet this year and needed to go soon. His steward there was an honest and hard-working man, and did his job well, yet Darcy always wanted to oversee things himself.

He wondered if Elizabeth would like Rosings. He had not changed the décor much since Lady Catherine died. It would definitely need to be completely replaced if there was to be another mistress there. He blinked, stalling that thought. There was no guarantee that Elizabeth would accept his proposal.

Was he going to propose after all then? Yes, he was. It was the only option. They only had a week left. Georgiana had planned a ball for a couple days before the house party ended. He could dance with Miss Elizabeth again. And then, maybe… just maybe…