Chapter 15

T he journey to Pemberley had taken three days by carriage. They arrived late at night, and the grandeur of the estate was lost on Elizabeth, who was too weary to fully appreciate her new surroundings. Her only desire was to sleep, pausing briefly to greet the housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds, who welcomed them with warmth and deference before Elizabeth was led to retire to her new bedchamber.

The next morning after arriving at Pemberley, Elizabeth awoke to the first rays of sunlight streaming through the tall windows. Feeling more like herself after a night of undisturbed sleep, she rose early, eager to explore her new home. The anxieties that had weighed her down since her marriage to Mr. Darcy seemed to lift slightly as she dressed and made her way out of her room, though remnants of uncertainty still lingered in her thoughts. Elizabeth was grateful that Mr. Darcy had respected her privacy during their journey and had not entered her bedchamber. She couldn't help but mark this as a point in his favour. From what she had heard growing up, not all men would have shown such restraint.

As Elizabeth stepped into the hallway, she found Mrs. Reynolds waiting for her, a warm smile on her face.

"Good morning, Mrs. Darcy. I hope you rested well."

"Yes, quite well, thank you," Elizabeth replied, her voice betraying a mix of curiosity and anticipation. "I was hoping to see more of Pemberley today."

Mrs. Reynolds inclined her head. "Of course, madam. Pemberley is a place of beauty, and I am sure you will find much to admire."

Their tour began with the grand staircase, its polished wood gleaming in the morning light. As they descended, Elizabeth took in the sheer elegance of the interior—ornate cornices, rich fabrics for curtains, and paintings that adorned the walls.

The entrance hall opened up to a vast, high-ceilinged space with marble floors that echoed softly beneath their steps. Mrs. Reynolds led her through a series of rooms, each more impressive than the last. The drawing room, with its tall windows overlooking the grounds, was furnished with exquisite taste, the upholstery in shades of deep burgundy and gold. A grand piano stood in one corner, its surface gleaming, inviting Elizabeth to imagine evenings filled with music.

As they moved through the rooms, Mrs. Reynolds pointed out various pieces of art and furniture, each with its own history.

"This painting here," she said, pausing before a portrait of a stern-looking man, "is of Mr. Darcy's grandfather. A formidable man, by all accounts, but he built much of what you see today. And this," she gestured to an intricately carved wooden chest, "was brought back from Italy by Mr. Darcy's father. He had a great love for travel and collected many such treasures."

Elizabeth listened, captivated by the stories that brought the house to life. Yet, even as she admired the beauty around her, her thoughts drifted to Mr. Darcy.

"I haven't noticed Mr. Darcy this morning. Might I ask where he has gone? Or has he not come out of his chamber all day?"

"The master left early to attend to urgent business with his attorney. He often has such matters to handle, given the responsibilities of the estate."

Elizabeth nodded, though the answer did little to quell her curiosity. "I must confess, Mrs. Reynolds, I have had little time to truly know Mr. Darcy. Some in Meryton have described him as aloof, particularly since he did not care to dance or make many acquaintances."

Mrs. Reynolds frowned, clearly taken aback by the question. "Indeed, madam, Mr. Darcy is a private man, that much cannot be denied. He has never been one for public gatherings, even as a child. But those who truly know him understand that he is the kindest of men, a master who is both fair and generous. His concern for the well-being of those around him runs deep, though he may not always express it in the manner others might expect."

"You speak of him as a child. Did you know him then?" Elizabeth inquired further.

A fond smile softened Mrs. Reynolds' features. "I did, madam. I have been with the Darcys since I was but a young maid myself. Mr. Darcy was just two years old when I first came into service. I had the privilege of watching him grow, from a lively boy into the gentleman he is today, one who has continued the legacy his father so carefully built. He is, if I may say so, one of the best masters in all of Derbyshire."

The pride in her voice was unmistakable, and Elizabeth could not help but feel a slight tug at her heart. Here was a man, so often painted in her mind as cold and aloof, who was spoken of with such affection by those who had known him from childhood. It was difficult to reconcile this image with the one she had held of him for so long. Elizabeth couldn't tell what to make of it, or how it made her feel.

They walked through a corridor lined with more paintings, the light from the windows casting shadows on the floor. The corridor led to the library, a room that immediately caught Elizabeth's attention. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the walls, filled with books of all kinds—history, literature, philosophy. A large desk sat near the windows, covered in papers and quills. Even without Mrs. Reynolds saying a word, she could tell that Mr. Darcy spent much time there.

"The library is one of Mr. Darcy's favourite rooms," Mrs. Reynolds said, confirming Elizabeth's guess. "He spends many hours here, especially in the evenings. Reading has always been a passion of his."

Elizabeth ran her fingers lightly over the spines of the books, her mind questioning her prejudice against her husband. Surely if he hadn't said hurtful things about her family and her and hadn't acted according to how her friend, Mr. Wickham, had described, Mrs. Reynolds' description of Mr. Darcy was one Elizabeth could like. What was there not to like beyond that? He was, after all, a handsome man, with a good fortune, and one who was fair to his household given Mrs. Reynolds' testimony. Or was the housekeeper merely telling her this because she sought her favour as the new mistress of Pemberley? Determined to find out, Elizabeth said, "Mrs. Reynolds, I cannot help but feel that Mr. Darcy is misunderstood by many. And yet, he chose me... How odd it seems, for such a private man with great fortune to marry under such public circumstances to a lady with no connection."

Mrs. Reynolds' expression softened further, a knowing look in her eyes. "I have heard some things, madam, from the servants mostly. But I do not concern myself with gossip. What I do know is that Mr. Darcy is not a man to be easily swayed by the opinions of others. Many have sought his attention—Miss Bingley, Miss de Bourgh on her mother's insistence, and others from prominent families. Yet he chose you, Mrs. Darcy. That is something to consider."

Elizabeth felt a shiver down her spine at the mix of emotions—relief, doubt, and a lingering sense of unease. She glanced out of the large window in the library, which opened to a view that took her breath away. The grounds of Pemberley stretched out before her, a verdant landscape of rolling hills, ancient oaks, and a sparkling lake. The gardens were meticulously kept, with paths winding through beds of roses and lavender. In the distance, the sunlight danced on the surface of the small lake, surrounded by trees whose leaves whispered in the gentle breeze.

Seeing her interest in the garden, Mrs. Reynolds led her there. When they reached the heart of the garden, Elizabeth concluded that Pemberley was not just a grand house; it was a living, breathing entity, a place where beauty and order coexisted in perfect balance. The air was fresh, carrying the scent of blooming flowers, and Elizabeth felt a sense of peace she had not known in days.

"Mr. Darcy has always been particular about the grounds," Mrs. Reynolds said as they walked. "He often spends time here, overseeing the gardens. He takes great pride in Pemberley, as did his father before him."

For the first time since the assembly, Elizabeth found herself admiring the man she had so often criticized. There was a depth to Mr. Darcy that she had not fully appreciated before—a connection to his home, his family, and his responsibilities that spoke of a character far richer than the one she had initially judged.

As they returned to the house some minutes later, Elizabeth felt a pang of guilt for the doubts she had harboured. Dispelling the last bit of prejudice she had was the only uncertainty that remained. "Mrs. Reynolds," she said hesitantly, "surely you must have wondered about our marriage. What kind of man leaves his newly wedded wife the morning after their arrival to see his attorney? Even if you trust Mr. Darcy's character, you must have had questions."

Mrs. Reynolds stopped and turned to Elizabeth with a serious expression. "Madam, I am a servant, and it is not my place to question the actions of my master. But I will say this: Mr. Darcy is a man who values duty and honour above all else. He would not have married you if he did not believe it to be the right choice. And I trust that in time, you will see that he is a man of deep feeling, though he may not always show it."

Elizabeth was silent, her thoughts swirling. Mrs. Reynolds' words were comforting, but they did not totally erase the doubts in her heart. If what she said was right it would mean Mr. Darcy felt something for her? Why then didn't he show it? Even if he did, could she truly trust in his intentions? Or was she simply convincing herself to accept a fate that had been thrust upon her?

Elizabeth was still asking these questions in her mind when they reached the steps leading back into the house.

Mrs. Reynolds offered a kind smile. "A maid will soon come to prepare your bath. Afterward, you may wish to meet the servants and the entire household. Pemberley is a large estate, and there are many who are eager to serve you."

Elizabeth nodded, grateful for the woman's understanding. "Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds. I appreciate your kindness."

"Of course, madam. Pemberley is your home now, and we are all here to make you feel welcome."

Mrs. Reynolds curtsied slightly and left, while Elizabeth turned and made her way back to her bedchamber. The tour had given her much to think about, and as she prepared for the day ahead, she couldn't help but ask the question, was she wrong about Mr. Darcy?

****

After her bath, Elizabeth felt more refreshed. Deliberately, she decided not to indulge in any thought about her position on Mr. Darcy or Mrs. Reynold's. She dressed and was led by her lady maid to the dinning room. It was a big room, much larger than the one in Longbourn or any estate Elizabeth had ever visited. She took her seat at the table and took the cup of tea that was poured for her. Aside from the sound of the delicate clinking of her spoon against the fine china however, the silence was almost unsettling. As she sipped her tea, she inquired after Georgiana, wondering why the young lady had not joined her.

"Miss Darcy is still abed, madam," Mrs. Reynolds informed her, entering the room with a tray of warm pastries. "I expect the journey must have tired her considerably."

Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully. "I can hardly blame her. It was a rather long and trying journey. I must confess, I myself still feel a bit wearied from it all. Though I do wonder how Colonel Fitzwilliam managed to journey home so late in the night."

Mrs. Reynolds smiled knowingly. "The Colonel is quite accustomed to travel, madam. Being a member of the militia, he is often on the move. Moreover, as the son of the Earl of Matlock, he has been traveling extensively since his youth. His father ensured that both he and the Colonel became well-versed in the art of long journeys, making it second nature to him."

Elizabeth couldn't help but admire the Colonel's stamina, though her thoughts quickly shifted back to Darcy. "And Mr. Darcy? When do you expect him to return?"

"The master's business with his attorney often varies, madam. It could take a day, perhaps longer, depending on the matters he must attend to. He is not one to divulge much about such things, though."

Elizabeth sighed softly, surprisingly finding herself feeling a bit disheartened by the uncertainty of Darcy's return. It was as if she wished him to return soon, perhaps to begin to untangle the complicated emotions that had captured her since he spoke at the assembly. But his absence left her in a limbo, unsure of how to proceed in a house that was now hers, yet felt so foreign.

Mrs. Reynolds, sensing her unease, spoke again, "If I may, madam, it might be a good idea to introduce yourself to the household. I have already informed everyone of your arrival, but it would do much to put any rumours to rest if you were to meet them personally. The servants would be much reassured to see the mistress of Pemberley as someone who is kind and respectful, as I have already had the pleasure of discovering."

Elizabeth smiled at the housekeeper's kind words, though inwardly, she felt a pang of doubt. "I appreciate your suggestion, Mrs. Reynolds, truly. But I must confess, I still do not feel entirely like the mistress of Pemberley. I would not know how to behave, what to say... Perhaps it would be best if I waited for Georgiana. It might be easier if we met the staff together since she is more accustomed to them."

Mrs. Reynolds nodded, understanding Elizabeth's hesitation. "As you wish, madam. Miss Darcy is quite beloved by the staff, and your introduction together would indeed be a reassuring gesture."

It was early in the afternoon, as Elizabeth sat in the drawing room, that Georgiana entered, her face still a little pale. Elizabeth rose to greet her with genuine concern.

"How are you feeling, Georgiana? I trust you are well-rested?"

Georgiana offered a faint smile, a gentle warmth in her eyes. "I am much improved, thank you. Did you rest well?"

"I did, though I am rather accustomed to rising early. My mother always insisted that we be up before eight, no matter the troubles of the previous day."

Georgiana's smile grew a little wistful. "Our mother passed away when I was very young, and I have since been under the care of my brother or our cousin, Fitzwilliam. They have both been exceedingly kind, though at times I feel they spoil me more than I deserve."

Elizabeth's face softened with regret, realizing the unintentional reminder her words had brought. "I am truly sorry for your loss. Mr. Darcy mentioned your parents to my father, but I had not known you were so young when they passed."

"Please, do not trouble yourself," Georgiana replied gently. "It is an old sorrow, one that I have long since learned to bear. No offense was taken."

Changing the subject swiftly, she continued, "I understand that my brother has gone to see his attorney. I do hope you will not be upset by his absence. The management of Pemberley demands much of his attention, and I am certain he meant no slight towards you."

Elizabeth shook her head, offering a reassuring smile. "You need not worry. I understand the importance of handling business, especially with an estate as large as Pemberley. I do not mind."

Georgiana mentioned that Mrs. Reynolds had informed her of Elizabeth's request, and she suggested they begin the visit promptly. Elizabeth agreed, and together they set out through the expansive grounds of Pemberley. As they walked, Mrs. Reynolds joined them, introducing Elizabeth to the various servants they encountered along the way. Each one greeted her with the utmost respect and deference, their kind faces easing some of the tension that had lingered since her arrival.

Elizabeth turned to Mrs. Reynolds as they continued their walk through the expansive grounds of Pemberley. "Do all the staff stay on the estate?"

"Most of them do, madam. The married ones go to their homes at the end of the day, unless their husbands also work within the estate, in which case they often stay. The unmarried staff typically reside on the premises."

As they moved further into the estate, Elizabeth's attention was drawn to a young maid who seemed particularly quiet and withdrawn, her downcast eyes avoiding the lively exchange around her. Noticing this, Elizabeth turned to Mrs. Reynolds with a touch of concern.

"Mrs. Reynolds, that young maid seems rather subdued. Is she quite well?"

Mrs. Reynolds hesitated for a moment, a shadow of unease crossing her usually composed features. "She has faced some unfortunate circumstances, madam. She was… compromised by someone she trusted to do well by her, and since then, the rumors have kept gentlemen from calling on her. Perhaps, with the news of the master's marriage circulating around the estate, it has brought back old memories. But I believe she will be fine in time."As she spoke, her eyes flicked almost imperceptibly toward Georgiana, whose complexion suddenly paled.

Georgiana suddenly asked to be excused, citing a need to rest, her voice trembling slightly as she made her retreat. All inquiries about her well-being were met with assurances that she was quite all right.

Elizabeth watched her go, concern deepening. "Is she quite well?" she asked Mrs. Reynolds, her brow furrowing with worry.

"I believe so, madam. The journey has taken its toll on her, I fear," Mrs. Reynolds replied, though there was a subtle note of uncertainty in her tone, as if she herself was not entirely convinced.

Elizabeth's thoughts, however, were now elsewhere. The maid's plight had struck a chord deep within her, reminding her of the rumours that just days ago had swirled around her in Meryton. A wave of gratitude washed over her, directed toward Mr. Darcy. How far he had gone to propose to her, to protect her reputation and that of her sisters, suddenly seemed all the more significant. She could scarcely imagine herself—or any of her sisters—enduring the kind of suffering that poor maid must be facing.

As they continued their walk, Elizabeth silently resolved to speak with Mr. Darcy about her grievances upon his return. It was only right, she reasoned, that they address the issues between them with honesty and openness. Perhaps then, they could begin to move forward, to build something better from the fragments of their uneasy start.

Yet, as they made their way back to the house, Elizabeth's thoughts were continually drawn back to that brief, unsettling exchange between Mrs. Reynolds and Georgiana. There was something in the way Mrs. Reynolds had glanced at Georgiana when she mentioned the maid's situation, and in the way Georgiana had hastily excused herself afterward, that left Elizabeth with an uneasy feeling she could not quite shake. Something was amiss—of that much, she was certain—but what it was, she could not yet fathom.