Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
E lizabeth looked up at the sky, which until that moment had seemed entirely benign. Now, she glared at the light shading of grey in the clouds with suspicion. "Was that thunder?"
Mrs Gardiner, freshly emerged from the carriage, followed Elizabeth's gaze with a thoughtful furrow in her brow. "I think you are mistaken, my dear. I did not hear anything."
"Perhaps I was."
Shaking off her concern, Elizabeth smoothed her gown—the cabbage-green, flower-sprigged muslin she wished she had worn when Mr Darcy called upon her at the Blue Lady—and followed her aunt up the front steps to where the butler awaited them. He bowed deeply, welcomed them back to Pemberley, and led them directly into the house. "Tea is being served on the back terrace," he informed them as they trailed in his wake. "Off the music room."
Elizabeth recalled the music room from their tour earlier in the week and experienced a thrill of anticipation to see it again, for it boasted the most wonderous view of the formal gardens and wooded hills behind the house. They had not lingered there, what with so many other rooms to visit, but she would have been happy to remain longer.
As the butler announced them to the ladies within, Elizabeth again looked about her with admiration. It was a large room done up in soothing shades of green offset by cream and the occasional note of beige. There were two seating areas: one clustered near the pianoforte to form an audience for the performer, the other in a semi-circle before the white marble hearth at the other end of the room. Mrs Gardiner joined Mrs Annesley at the former, while the superior sisters and Miss Darcy were arranged elegantly about the latter. Every piece had obviously been selected with care and made a delightful tableau, marred only by Miss Bingley—who glanced at Elizabeth and distinctly cut her—in her amber and puce-striped day gown. She quite ruins the scene , Elizabeth thought with a rueful chuckle.
The most impressive feature of the room was the bank of windows that comprised most of the far wall. The curtains—which so perfectly matched the furniture that the same fabric must have been used for both—were a heavy silk damask in the most lovely shade of mossy green, tied back with ivory tassels to allow natural light in. Sheer gauzy fabric blunted the glare of sunlight from without and danced whimsically in the breeze let in by the open glass doors at the centre. And through those doors…
"Oh my!" Elizabeth found herself entranced by the call of nature beyond. The wind billowing the gossamer curtains seemed to whisper to her, beckoning her forth, and her feet obeyed its persuasion. When she emerged onto the terrace, her breath caught. ' Tis fairyland!
Servants bustled about her, industriously setting out the accoutrements for tea, but she hardly noticed them, so absorbed in the panorama of natural splendour was she. The terrace overlooked the most fantastical garden she had ever seen. At Rosings Park, which could boast being settled amidst the ‘Garden of England', the shrubberies and flowers were all confined to geometric patterns designed by the hand of man—or Lady Catherine herself, more like. Here, at Pemberley, wildness was allowed to flourish alongside purpose, and the effect was spectacular.
Steps on either side of the terrace led down to a gravel path, which wound throughout the scene. Closest to the house and immediately before her was a neatly cut rectangle surrounded by shrubbery, which comprised the rose garden. An arch festooned with white roses was the entry, and beyond it were blooms of every shade and variety, with buzzing insects flitting from one to another in a hedonistic feast. With the heat of the summer sun and a light breeze to assist, the fragrance wafting from it was heady and nearly drugging. Elizabeth closed her eyes a moment and inhaled.
She could not resist the view for long, however, and opened them to take in more of the picturesque vista. The path wound both through and around the rose garden, though outside the shrubbery the garden beds became less tame and far more wild. They were well tended, that was obvious, but there seemed to be little attempt to curtail them into polite formation. Explosions of lavender, hyacinths, primrose, honeysuckle, daisies…so many varieties that Elizabeth could not possibly name them all. She could spend hours wandering about and cataloguing the different species before ever so much as leaving the path!
Far off into the distance, beyond any semblance of order, rose the high wooded hill she had seen on her first descent into the valley in which Pemberley lay. It was green and verdant, full of life she could not presently see but instead hear. Is that flowing water?
"Are you a great admirer of flowers, Miss Bennet?"
Elizabeth blinked and turned to find Miss Darcy standing at her side, twiddling her fingers again. "Miss Darcy! Forgive me for not greeting you properly when I arrived. My attention was caught by…this. It is magnificent."
"Do not trouble yourself—I am not offended. We are very proud of it. My mother planned the rose garden—it was a hobby of hers to tend them herself, I understand—but insisted that the rest be allowed to grow free of restraint. Aside from the kitchen garden, which is round the side of the house, it is the only part of the grounds that is assiduously tended."
"Do you also spend time amongst the roses, Miss Darcy?"
The young lady's smile was soft and distant as her gaze perused the view. "Yes, it makes me feel close to my mother. She died shortly after I was born, you see."
Elizabeth, despite the contentious relationship she had with her own mother, was nevertheless blessed to have her alive. Sympathy for the girl beside her welled up in her breast, and she touched her arm. "I am sorry for your loss."
Miss Darcy shook her head, dispelling the sadness in her eyes. "It was so long ago…I do not even remember her. My brother says I am her image, though."
"I have seen a likeness of Lady Anne and am inclined to agree."
"Thank you, Miss Bennet."
Feeling as if a change of subject was in order, Elizabeth said, "I am surprised you are not more frequently distracted by this oasis. How can you ever tear yourself away to attend to anything else? I would be forever walking the grounds and neglecting all my duties."
Miss Darcy giggled lightly. "I suppose I am used to it, though I do find myself occasionally caught by whatever flies past the window. I rather enjoy watching the birds."
"They are pleasant creatures, are they not?" Elizabeth again turned to face the aspect, sighing wistfully. "Magnificent."
A minute or so passed in companionable silence before Elizabeth recalled a query she meant to ask. "Tell me, is that the sound of rushing water I hear? Or is my mind playing tricks on me?"
Miss Darcy shook her head, her blonde curls bouncing against her cheeks. "No, the stream that feeds the lake in front of the house runs downhill through the woods. Just there." She pointed into the distance to Elizabeth's left, where a stone bridge arched across a ribbon of water that was too far away to see clearly.
Elizabeth walked up to the balustrade, planted her hands against it, and leant forwards to give herself a better view. Just past the bridge, where the forest began, there was a charming waterfall cascading down the face of a short cliff. "Oh yes, I see it now. How lovely." She almost asked whether she might be granted the privilege of walking that path, but she did not wish to presume. The Darcys had welcomed her to Pemberley, it was true, but unless Mr Darcy renewed his addresses…
"The gentlemen are down there now fishing for trout. Perhaps, after they have joined us for refreshments, my brother might take you on a tour of the gardens since they interest you so."
A hot flush erupted across Elizabeth's face; could Miss Darcy somehow read her thoughts? The girl wore a carefully innocent expression, but that in and of itself was suspicious. Does she know something of Mr Darcy's feelings?
"So, Miss Eliza," came the unwelcome voice of Miss Bingley as that lady strolled out onto the terrace and inserted herself between Elizabeth and Miss Darcy. Overhead, Elizabeth thought she heard another gurgle of thunder, though it was possible she merely imagined it because Miss Bingley always brought a sense of foreboding with her wherever she went. "I understand that you have been on an extended tour with your relations this summer. Have you been away from Hertfordshire long?"
Determined to be more polite than her self-appointed adversary, Elizabeth forced herself to smile and respond with civility. "Indeed, we have been travelling since mid-July. It has been a lovely trip full of interesting sights."
"And I am sure you have seen many of them on foot," replied the lady, the simper in her voice at odds with the smirk on her face. The dusky orange feathers in her hair whipped about in the increasing wind as she slyly enquired, "Have you ruined many hems since leaving home?"
Elizabeth was inclined to make sardonic mention of the number of gowns Miss Bingley had ruined only yesterday, but she held it in with effort. If the woman thought that ‘Miss Eliza' would suddenly become embarrassed by her countrified habits, she was sorely mistaken. "Only the usual number. We have been lucky to have dry weather since entering Derbyshire." A more distinct rumble of thunder punctuated her remark, causing the three ladies to look skyward.
With only fluffy white clouds grazing slowly across the sky like a field of docile sheep, Miss Bingley apparently dismissed the sound as nothing. "How fortunate. I can see from your colour that you have been enjoying the sun very much. "
Elizabeth accepted that it was so, admitting further, "I have, as you know, a great love of the out of doors. They have tempted me often on our trip. I was just telling Miss Darcy"—she nodded to the girl on the other side of Miss Bingley—"that I would love to stroll Pemberley's gardens."
"Who would not? I do admire roses, and these are kept so neat and tidy. Miss Darcy must be commended for her efforts. I daresay I should like to take my daily constitutional there—with a parasol to protect my complexion, of course."
"Of course." Elizabeth pressed her lips together lest she give away her amusement at Miss Bingley's expense. It would be such a shame if she were to grow as coarse and brown as I.
"Pemberley is the most marvellous place in the world, is it not?" Miss Bingley sighed. Rather than cast her covetous gaze out over the park, she turned to face the manor. "To live in a house like this… You are a fortunate young woman, Miss Darcy, to be so surrounded by elegance and refinement, such ease and luxury. One need never worry about anything here."
"I would not say that," replied Miss Darcy uncomfortably. "I do not believe any place is entirely free from difficulty."
"Oh, but Pemberley must be the exception! What could trouble you here?"
Elizabeth fought the urge to grimace at Miss Bingley's obtuseness; who could ask such a question of an orphaned girl, well into the age when a mother's guidance would be most wanted? No amount of money could replace what the Darcys had lost. Further, as the daughter of a tradesman, it seemed the lady had no true sense of what it took to successfully manage a property of this size, both for their own benefit and that of those within their purview.
As it was not her place to chide Miss Bingley for the former, Elizabeth bent her mind towards enlightening the lady on the latter. Stroking the smooth, sun-warmed sandstone of the balustrade beneath her hand, she said, "Certainly, there is nothing wanting in Pemberley. It is a perfect reflection of the land that surrounds it, as well as the individuals who oversee its care. That said, it takes great dedication to run an estate, and even more to see it thrive. There are, no doubt, many who are dependent upon Pemberley, and the pressure to superintend their welfare must be enormous. The Darcys must be commended for the generations of toil and sacrifice that have made it into what you see before you."
"That is exactly what my brother says," Miss Darcy said, little above a whisper. "That we are merely stewards of this land and have a great responsibility to it."
Miss Bingley's agreement was somewhat stilted. "Yes, quite."
Elizabeth discreetly sighed. It seems that Miss Bingley will only see what she wishes to see and not what actually is. I pity her, for she is destined to be disappointed in life.