“It is perfect.”
Elizabeth felt, in a way that she never had before, not even with the size and respectability of Darcy House, that to be Darcy’s wife, to be the mistress of Pemberley was something.
She felt a little shame at how she had absolutely refused to buy more than a few dresses and was deeply aware that this spite at her father would make her seem yet smaller compared to the scope of the house.
They descended the hill, crossed the bridge, and drove to the door.
It was too big.
Too… much.
Elizabeth still didn’t want to be Mrs. Darcy.
She hardly knew what to think. Darcy’s unthinking arrogance now made sense to her — to grow up in such a place.
Such a place made the words “ten thousand a year” more than just a number, but a clear expression of power, of ancient heritage, of the control over the land on which thousands lived, and of the command of vast amounts of labor.
He was one of the wealthy masters of England, and this was his seat.
The park showed long walks, endless turning paths, a natural, unpretentious feel. Plenty of places to sit and rest, overlooks, endless places to lose herself again and again everywhere and nowhere. She’d seen a half dozen follies, and she was sure there were a huge variety of other beauties just waiting to be discovered.
Leaping fish in the river, and for an instant she thought that her uncle would very much like to try his hand at the trout.
That was a good reminder.
It helped to prevent her from feeling too much happiness at the thought of being mistress of all this. To be mistress of Pemberley was something indeed, but the cost was too high.
Elizabeth had been so absorbed examining the appearance of the house that she had forgotten to be frightened of meeting the staff, until she found the whole horde of them lined up in their coats to greet her in the cold. The large group was fronted by the respectable looking elderly housekeeper. Standing next to the housekeeper was an elegantly dressed young woman, whose facial features were stamped with the same chin and forehead as Darcy’s.
The carriage came up the wide gravel drive and pulled up to a stop by the massive staired portico, in front of which the crowd waiting for them stood flanked by huge Ionic marble columns.
Darcy lightly stepped out, smiled towards his retainers, and then gave her his hand to help her out. After an instant of hesitation she took it.
She smiled worriedly at him.
“Welcome home, Mrs. Darcy.”
And she smiled, for the first time, at being called that.
Butthenwhen she was presented to the servants, for a reason she could hardly describe, Elizabeth found herself trembling.
This didn’t make sense. Why was she feeling that way? Whynow?
Don’t let this sudden fear show.
Too big.
Mr. Darcy introduced him to his sister, though Elizabeth barely understood a word he said. They exchanged curtsies, and Elizabeth extended her hand and said, “I am very pleased to meet you.”
Miss Darcy looked down and mumbled something that Elizabeth could not make out, and then stepped away from her, without looking at her.
Not exactly a warm greeting.
“Welcome, Mrs. Darcy,” Mrs. Reynolds, the housekeeper, said cheerfully after Darcy introduced them. “Rather large place, isn’t it? But you need not worry about anything. We have it all well in hand.”
Lord! Was it so obvious that she was frightened?
“I will be eager to learn everything about your ways of doing things,” Elizabeth said in a thin voice, her hand on Darcy’s arm not feeling quite right, almost as though it were detached and belonged to someone else. “And I look forward to taking my place in the management of the house once I have familiarized myself.”
