Thank you all for your reviews, kudos, and reads so far! I am so excited to continue this story! Thank you to those who pointed out any errors in my writing. I appreciate the feedback. A quick clarification that the prologue is set 8 months from where our story begins, so the end is the beginning in this sense! Here's another chapter, cheers!
Chapter 1: A Marvel of God and Man
8 months earlier…
Elizabeth tapped her fingers ever so impatiently against her lap. Even she, in her distracted state, couldn't ignore the inquisitive glances from her aunt and uncle. She yearned once more that the trip to The Lakes would not have been postponed. It was simply unfathomable to visit the grand estate of the man she had summarily insulted and rejected. Yet her protests to the trip fell on deaf ears, and Elizabeth could not press further without admitting just why she was so against the visit to Pemberly.
Her pride had yet to recover. And yes, she could name the feelings that had stirred in her with every encounter with Mr. Darcy. The feeling of pride that she had so wrongfully accused him of in her rejection. Oh, she knows his pride is still a force to behold, but Elizabeth could have never fathomed the reasons for such pride.
Barely tolerable and prideful, she mused. Not for the first time Elizabeth wondered at what exactly compelled Mr. Darcy into the great state of love he professed himself. His proposal said much, but very little of what he saw in Elizabeth. He waxed no lyrics on her qualities, only of her circumstances.
Yet Elizabeth knew flattery was the exact vice that moved her to believe Wickam's story with such ease. Even now, she could only recall her behavior with shame.
These men did share one similarity, however. Elizabeth desired romance and love of the truest kind. No longer could she abide being the county's old maid or the beloved resident aunt in Jane's household (for surely Jane would create a happy home with someone worthy of her one day, even if that husband was not Mr. Bingley.)
Elizabeth, in fact, could no longer envision her future at all. She only knew she wanted a family of her one day that could bring a measure of felicity and peace into her life.
Unfortunately for her, their carriage presently headed down the lane to Pemberly, an estate that would carry the pasts of many families and the ghost of the future that was once hers. Yet, she felt compelled to learn more about the history of the estate.
"What do you remember of Lambton, aunt?" Elizabeth abruptly asked. Frankly, Mrs. Gardiner was shocked Elizabeth spoke at all as they underwent their journey. She had four children, and even at twenty, Elizabeth had the mannerisms of one in a pout.
"Well, dear, it is the most idyllic place. There is a softness to it all, despite the hills being rather more intimidating than your Meryton." At this, giggles were shared amongst the party.
"I suppose it's the people, really, that makes the place so special to me. They are a good sort of people in Derbyshire, and I believe the Darcy's are a great deal responsible for everyone's good nature. They were a most giving master and mistress." Aunt Gardiner grew uncharismatically wistful in remembrance of her childhood.
"Pray, what were they like? It is hard to envision Mr. Darcy behaving so admirably to the villagers of Derbyshire." This Elizabeth said with more bite than intended, and she once again admonished herself for her quick estimate of the gentleman. Especially since her aunt quickly followed with her inquisitive brow every time she mentioned Mr. Darcy.
"I, unfortunately, have little to disclose my dear firsthand. The Darcys tended to keep near the estate once Mrs. Darcy's health declined. But I remember many stories around the village of the new Mrs. Darcy and Mr. Darcy frequenting the shops around Lambton. It seemed Mr. Darcy was keen to show off his new bride and mingle with his tenants." Mr. And Mrs. Gardiner lightly held hands, reminiscing on their own first years of marriage.
Elizabeth, not for the first time this season, felt a pang of longing for the company of love.
A change in scenery caught her Eye from the carriage window. The hilly, unbridled terrain flattened to manicured foliage and a smoother road. Large hedgerows stood proudly sentinel to welcome the guests to Pemberly. A large lake soon emerged into view, and there, in the flowing current, appeared a mirage of the estate.
There was a chorus of gasps.
The building was several stories tall, with large arched windows settled into stalwart bricks of the finest stone. Yet for all the height of the estate, the design seemed to enhance the rolling, forested hills beyond. A marvel of what God and Man can create.
Elizabeth felt a sudden, strong desire to remain in the carriage and ignore the knowledge she now possessed. Mr. Darcy's unbearable proposal slowly gained rationale.
Yet they had now parked and the doors opened. And Elizabeth stepped foot onto Pemberley for the very first time.
"And so after the fire in 1721 the Darcys decided to rebuild the east wing with marble, and that is why from certain angles the walls…" the tour started pleasantly enough, but Lizzie kept failing her attempts at full breaths. Even though Mrs. Reynolds, both housekeeper and avid tour guide of the estate, assured her Mr. Darcy was not in.
Every corner of art and material inside the home enchanted the party. The interior of Pemberley continued the exterior's propensity for elegance and symmetry. Even their steps echoed in such a way as to remind the gathering that these halls were steeped in history.
And for her to be considered a mistress to this! And suddenly, Elizabeth realized that Mr. Darcy had indeed paid her a high compliment in his suit. No, he hadn't used such flowery language as Wickam or odious gestures as Mr. Collins. Yet, his very offering of her spoke of his confidence in her abilities and his esteem of her character.
How could she fault his reservations once faced with the marvel that was Pemberly? Elizabeth could barely envision her younger sisters tromping through the hallowed halls, her father's inappropriate wit in the grand library, or her mother's scheming at every tea time.
Yet she fought bitterly against such revelations. Though her family might be deemed silly, they were a loving and sociable family. In fact, Mr. Darcy and his standoffish relatives could do well learning from Bennet's honest and easy nature. But that chance was long gone.
"What do you think, Lizzie?" Her aunt abruptly inquired.
"Of what, aunt?"
Yet Elizabeth wished she had not spoken. For there, amongst the classical sculptures, sat a rather imposing bust of Mr. Darcy as the current master of Pemberly. She audibly gulped.
"Is it of any likeness? Her aunt continued.
"The young lady is acquainted with the master?" And suddenly Mrs. Reynold's eyes sharpened on the pretty miss who had been an unusually contemplative spectator of the grounds. She wondered at the exact depth and definition of the connection this young lady had to the Darcys.
"Yes, ma'am, we met in Meryton briefly, where my family resides" She was loathed to continue the details.
"And in Kent?" her uncle, ever the innocent in social situations, remembered.
"Yes, in Kent." She avoided everyone's eyes altogether.
Yes, the features are quite similar," Elizabeth admitted, "of my recollection that is."
As the party continued, Elizabeth needed a moment. A mere bust unsettled her as if his presence was in the very room! She was grateful to the bust's inability to stare at her in his particular manner. A manner she once thought was given with censure, and she now knew was given with admiration. Goodness, the memory and awareness of him struck her in every room, every artifact, and every furnishing.
She lingered on another sculpture and encouraged the tour to continue on without her. And then, struck with a bout of deviousness she hadn't felt since Jane left for London, she briskly set forth in a chosen direction of the house. Searching for something.
As Elizabeth rounded a corner, then another, she heard the soft tinklings of a piano. She felt dazzled, for her first instinct told her such a magnificent house had its own music– as if angels above visited the grand estate to envelop all who entered.
Elizabeth snorted and gave herself a rather inspirational speech that all estates were just rock and material and not an indication of one's true worthiness as God intended. Even if she could have been the mistress of such great rock and material. But truly where was that music coming from?
In her musings, she missed the scrape of the chair and the pattering of slippered feet on an undoubtedly plush carpet. And then, the door opened.
And out stepped Miss Georgiana Darcy.