Chapter Seventeen

Elizabeth

E lizabeth's heart thumped as she stormed to her chamber. How dare this man speak to her in such a way? All she had done was to be kind and understanding. She attempted to make the best of their situation, but he spoke to her as though she were a silly girl, who had invaded his home. Did he not understand that she did not want to be here any more than he wanted her here?

This is what she got. And to think that he accused her of pitting him. Pity him? The only thing one could pity Mr Darcy for was his poor character. It was as if he thought his injuries and the loss of his sister has clouded his judgement.

Listening to Mrs Potts, she had been determined to help him, for such a loss had to weigh heavily upon a person. But if a man did not want help, what could she do?

And the way he had spoken to her this night had only convinced her of the fact that this was a futile endeavour. She was tempted to pack her belongings, go to Lambton, hire a coach, and return home to her father to take him up on his offer to help.

Of course, the more rational part of her knew that that would do no good. Her father would try his best to protect her from the rotten reputation that would be affixed to her, but at the end of the day, it would only harm her entire family.

Besides her aunt still lay injured in her chamber, she could not leave her. She was stuck here. With him. She threw herself on her bed and looked up at the canopy. How could a man be so rich in wealth and yet so poor in manners? She shook her head and then sat up.

No! She would not allow herself to slip into melancholy and self-pity. She got out of bed and looked at herself in the mirror. That was what Mr Darcy had done. He wallowed in his self-pity day in and day out, missing out on the life that was at his fingertips. She would not make the same mistake.

***

The following Sunday morning, Elizabeth rose early. She took great care to select the best gown she had brought for the trip, slipped on her elbow-length gloves, and placed her nicest bonnet on her head. On her way down the stairs, she adjusted her yellow spencer over her white dress and picked up a parasol. She examined herself in the full-length mirror at the bottom of the stairs, carefully sliding the white sheet that always covered it aside so she could see herself.

Then, she made for the door just when it opened, and Mr Darcy appeared. They had not seen one another since the argument in the library, and she did not quite know what to say to him.

"Good morning, Miss Bennet," he said, "Are you going out?"

"Yes," she replied curtly.

"I see. To town?" he asked.

Why was he making conversation? What was the matter with him? Hadn't he made it clear he did not want to talk to her?

"I am going to church," she replied curtly and walked past him. Mr Lightower already waited for her with the carriage, and she entered, leaning back as the vehicle set into motion.

She looked over her shoulder and saw the ruins of Pemberley behind her once more. They had to ride past the destroyed wing of the home that had once housed Georgiana Darcy's rooms. One could see inside the through the glassless void where the window had been and she shuddered, forcing herself to look away.

***

Kympton was only a fifteen-minute ride from Pemberley, and when she exited the carriage, she saw a small quaint church with a rectory located directly behind it. She had rather hoped that she could avoid Mr Wickham, but she had learned that since the retirement of the former holder of the position, Lambton church was currently without a vicar. thus if she wished to attend the Sunday service then she had no choice. The small cemetery was located to the left, and several people mingled there, placing flowers on the graves. She felt as though she were back in Meryton, attending a Sunday service there—although of course she was all alone without her family at her side. It was fortunate Elizabeth had never suffered from undue shyness, otherwise this would have been rather a daunting prospect.

As it was, she strutted forth determined to do what she'd come here for—make herself known to the community, and show she was not as unapproachable as her residence might imply. She walked towards two women who sat on a bench outside the church, each in plain, slightly worn dresses and simple straw bonnets.

"Good day," she said with a light smile.

"Good day," one of the women answered. Her white hair and deep wrinkles told her that she was older than Elizabeth's mother, but not quite as old as Mrs Potts. The woman gave a smile, exposing her teeth of which two were missing at the side. The teeth and her attire gave away the fact that she was not well-to-do.

"You must be Miss Bennet," she said at once.

Elizabeth's eyes grew wide. How did she know? The woman nodded towards the carriage. "I recognise Mr Darcy's carriage. We used to see it around town regularly. Now it's a rarity."

"We all heard about you," a younger woman said beside her. Tall and with blonde hair, she flashed a beaming smile before extending her hand. "Mary Hawkins. I work on the Sanderson Estate up the road. This is Mrs Dillinger, my godmother."

"Elizabeth Bennet" she introduced herself, although they already knew who she was. "It is lovely to meet you," she said, meaning it.

"We were wondering if you would be coming to join us," the young woman, Mary, said with a smile. "Young Miss Darcy used to attend church every Sunday, Mr Darcy would accompany her on occasion. And their parents before them, of course" Mrs Dillinger, said with a wistful tone.

"I did not know they were such regular church goers," she said by way of making conversation.

"Oh yes, Lady Anne certainly was and…"

It took Elizabeth a moment to remember that Mr Darcy's mother had a title. Her father had been the Earl of Matlock and thus she and her sister carried the title of lady. Sometimes she forgot that she was to be a member of a family who had ties to the aristocracy. It was daunting though in actuality her status would not change severely. She was a gentleman's daughter and would be a gentleman's wife, nothing more. It was only when one considered the Earl of Matlock's connection that one realised how different a world she would soon be living in.

She dismissed the thought and focused her attention on the two women instead.

"You must be well acquainted with the family, then," Elizabeth said politely and Mrs Dillinger nodded.

"Somewhat. She was a very kind woman. Very involved in the community, not just Lambton, but Kympton and the other neighbouring villages."

"Wasn't that young Mr Darcy's doing?" Mary chimed in, surprising Elizabeth.

"You are quite correct. As Pemberley estate was the largest estate by far, and employed many people from the surrounding villages, he felt that the family should be more involved with the wider community. His mother supported this endeavour and we often saw Lady Anne in the village. For a while, Mr Darcy and Miss Darcy would accompany their mother when she would visit the sick in the community." Mrs Dillinger's voice carried genuine fondness and Elizabeth found herself wondering what Mr Darcy might have been like as a young man.

"I remember that. My dear mother was very ill before she died, and Lady Anne would come to see her and bring us food. Can you imagine that? Food from the grand house. Sometimes Mr Darcy and Miss Darcy would come along as well." Mary stopped and a wistful smile appeared on her lips, the same expression Elizabeth so often saw when people spoke of Georgiana. "What a ray of sunshine she was, that girl. The apple of her mother's eye."

Elizabeth smiled as she listened to the two women talk.

"It seems everybody was fond of Miss Darcy," she said. "I never had the good fortune of meeting her."

Mrs Dillinger's eyes shimmered, though she smiled. "She was lovely, as was her mother. She would've been just like her mother had she had a chance to grow. So sweet and kind. But I think that was due to her brother's influence as well. He raised her very well, Mr Darcy did. To be so young and to have to raise his sister all alone, a shame. That family has seen much darkness over the years."

"They are not saved from God's will any more than the rest of us," Mary added.

Wetting her lips and unsure what to say, Elizabeth thought of Mr Darcy as he had been before the fire. By all accounts, everyone who had known him held him in high regard. What a shame it was that she would never meet this version of Mr Darcy.

"It was such a terrible tragedy," Mary added and shook her head. "My sister died of a fever five years ago, well one of them. The family was never the same, even though there were so many of us. I think in a way, that helped. Mr Darcy didn't have anyone. No wonder he's such a recluse now."

Elizabeth looked up, taken in by something the woman had said.

"How many brothers and sisters do you have?" she asked the young woman, eager to talk about something other than the Darcys. She'd left Pemberley to get away from that topic after all.

"No brothers at all, but three sisters. There were five of us, but our Belle died. Two are married now. Right now, it's just me and my youngest sister Anna at home with my papa."

Elizabeth replied. "I am one of five sisters as well."

Mary chuckled. "Then you understand very well. You must come and call on me so we can exchange stories. I am sure you have many."

Elizabeth laughed. "So many."

"My," Mrs Dillinger said. "What a change it must be for you, coming from a house full of life to living at Pemberley."

Elizabeth cringed. There seemed to be no escaping discussion of her living conditions.

"It is true, Pemberley is very quiet. Right now, my aunt is staying with me. Thought she will return to London once she has recovered. However, I hope my sister and brother-in-law will call often since my family is far away."

"Ah, that is the lady who broke her foot then, your aunt," Mrs Dillinger said and Elizabeth wondered if everyone in town knew all the details of her circumstances. It certainly seemed that way.

"That is correct, she is recovering still, otherwise she might have accompanied me," she said when a sudden rush for the door alerted her that the service was about to begin.

Mrs Dillinger took her by the arm. "Well, perhaps we will see her another time. For the time being, we'll keep you company, Miss Bennet. You will see, you'll make plenty of acquaintances here. Everyone will be happy that a new Mistress of Pemberley comes to church. There hasn't been a lot of connection between the Darcy family and the church as of late, even though just about everyone who attends are tenants of theirs. Well, I suppose tenants of yours," she corrected herself.

"I hope to be that connection once more," Elizabeth said, though a little uncomfortable with being set apart in such a way. "I have a mind to visit all the tenants in time. After the wedding, that is."

"Mrs Sanderson will be so happy to hear that there is going to be a wedding. And at Pemberley. Of course, it would be nicer if Mr Darcy tidied up the place. It is such an eyesore."

Mrs Dillinger hissed under her breath for Mary to stop talking, and the younger woman's eyes grew wide as she eyed Elizabeth.

"I beg your pardon,' she said quietly.

"It is quite all right. Mr Darcy is aware of the matter and plans to see to it soon," she said breezily not wanting anyone to feel uncomfortable.

They fell silent as they stepped into the building, and she took in the view. It was smaller than Longbourn church, which given that Longbourn church had started as a family chapel was saying something—most of the village went to the larger Meryton church instead, where the vicar was filled with fire and brimstone and more gossip was to be had. Kympton church was typical of a small countryside church, with fifteen pews on either side of the aisle. Light streamed through the tall stained-glass windows and she could see dust particles dancing in the beams.

"Is it not a very large community?" she asked, noticing that hardly any pews were full. There were perhaps twenty people there, a low number when compared to her home parish where there would be easily twice that number. Especially if this church was supposed to be hosting Lambton's congregation in addition to its own.

Mrs Dillinger and Mary exchanged glances.

"It is a rather large community, usually. When the old vicar was here, we'd often have to come early to get a good seat but the new vicar… He is… Well, he is new to the posting and it shows. But I have faith that he will improve," Mrs Dillinger said.

"Mr Wickham," she said quietly, dreading having to listen to him give a sermon. What would he talk about? He'd never struck her as someone who set foot into a church voluntarily, and certainly wasn't pious in any way. Indeed, as she slipped into her seat and picked up a prayer book she braced herself for what she was certain would be a rather strange experience.

Low chatter continued for a few more minutes as people settled in their seats. This changed somewhat when Mr Wickham appeared. The sight of him dressed in his vicar's attire, a prayer book in hand startled her, but it was he who appeared utterly caught off his guard. He caught her eye almost the moment he stepped into the pulpit and stared at her, mouth ajar.

She nodded at him which seemed to draw him out of his thoughts and he began the service. It was a regular service, and she imagined that many people up and down the country were sitting listening to similar services. Although she had to confess that hearing Mr Wickham giving a sermon on charity was as odd as she'd expected. Still, some of the churchgoers seemed taken in by him and at the end, when he called for donations, many gave. She noticed that neither Mrs Dillinger nor Mary gave, discreetly looking away when a younger boy came by with his offering plate. Elizabeth felt obliged to donate, but avoided looking Mr Wickham in the eye.

Not eager to speak to Mr Wickham, she made her way back to the carriage the moment the service ended, but not before finding out just where Mary and Mrs Dillinger lived. She fully intended to call on both to deepen the connection they had with one another. Then she boarded her carriage and made her way back to Pemberley—the place she was now to call home for the rest of her life.