Hehadexplained to Georgiana what the man’s character was, he’d told her about his lack of expectations, and he had even told her that he had only a few months prior to the attemptedseduction refused to give Wickham the Kympton living, and further that when the gentleman had parted from him he’d sworn to have revenge. In addition to her fortune, that was likely an added motivation.
There was a knock on his door, and when it opened, one of the footmen informed him that the carriages of his uncle and cousins had been sighted, winding their way down into the small valley that made up Pemberley’s park.
Darcy went to the window of his study and leaned against the wall as he watched the fine carriages, the size of ants in the distance, wind their way down into the valley along the path and then over the bridge across the stream that fronted Pemberley.
It had not snowed in two days, and the road was clear for his family’s carriages, and men had been busy yesterday shoveling the snow off to the side all along the way.
The rest of the park glistened white from the fallen snow, everywhere in piles. The air was still.
Perfect weather, if there was no storm, for tomorrow’s planned hunt.
But today was for Elizabeth to meet his mother’s family, and Elizabeth would be judged harshly by them. Deep down, some part of Darcy that had grown more and more desperate for her each night did not think she deserved their judgement. They could not understand her value.
He hardly understood it himself.
When the carriages had all crossed to the far side of the bridge, Darcy went down.
He’d dressed in a fine coat that morning, and he found Elizabeth, Georgiana, and Mrs. Reynolds waiting by the front hall. Mrs. Reynolds and Elizabeth amiably conversed about the plans for the Christmas gifts to the servants, while Georgiana listened to them, clearly interested, but equally clearly not prepared to offer an opinion, even when directly asked.
Elizabeth gave him a familiar smile, though he could tell that her features were more strained today than usual. During breakfast she had just picked at her food, eating barely anything. She’d said she didn’t feel at all hungry, and Darcy was sure that it was her nerves at needing to perform for his family.
Neither of them was good at performing for strangers, and it was Darcy’s dear, dear hope that she would think of his family as her own by the end of their visit. Despite her pallor, Elizabeth looked lovely in an almost white gown that Darcy thought was silk. Her hair had a simple pin through it to bind it into a neat chignon, with curls falling around her cheeks.
What made Darcy frown in anxiety was the small ruby cross that she wore as a necklace. It was a piece he remembered seeing on her several times when she was stillMissElizabeth, and it clearly was not particularly expensive. He should have told her this morning to don some of the old family jewelry.
Elizabeth studied him as he studied her. Her smile faded away, and she looked down at her gown self-consciously.
Let them all think what they want, she is my wife.It is not their place to judge.
With that thought Darcy firmly stepped across the checkerboard marble floor and took Elizabeth’s arm. “Shall we go out to greet them?”
Besides Darcy and Elizabeth, half a dozen senior members of the staff walked out into the cold to greet his aunt and uncle.
The thin sun beamed on them, and the valley that Pemberley was built in protected the house somewhat from the wind. Each of their breaths still made little puffs of vapor visible in the air.
Lord Matlock’s carriage first pulled to a stop in front of the house, and Lord Matlock climbed out before giving his hand to his wife.
Darcy stepped forward once both of them were out and grasped his uncle’s hand firmly. “Very good to see you.”
At five and fifty years of age, the Earl of Matlock had an authoritative presence. Though he was a man of only medium height he had a handsome face and a robust frame from years of active hunting, fencing and pugilism. He had always been a fine looking man, and while he never would have seduced the maiden daughter of a respectable gentleman, he’d had a rakish reputation when younger, and he kept two mistresses with the knowledge, and apparent acceptance, of Lady Matlock.
His sharp eyes pierced Darcy, studying and judging.
Darcy met the gaze with calmness. He loved and respected his uncle, and he knew he had made a terrible mistake when he married Elizabeth, but he would allow no one to disrespect his wife, or his right to make his own decisions as master of Pemberley.
Lord Matlock nodded stiffly in respect, and then turned to study at Elizabeth with that same sharp gaze.
“I am glad to meet you at last, Mrs. Darcy.” He bent over and kissed her hand.
The tone of voice told nothing about what his judgement of Elizabeth was on this quick first meeting. And that itself was not a good sign. His uncle had once spent thirty minutes explaining to Darcy at length how he trusted the first impression he gained of a person, and how rarely it was wrong.
His two grandchildren bounced out of Viscount Hartwood’s carriage before it had fully stopped, somewhat wrecking the solemnity of the scene. Laughing, the boy grabbed the legs of Lord Matlock and lisped out, “Grandpa, Grandpa, please, please, please. Let me come on the hunt,” while the girl shouted about how they’d been unable to walk for two hours, and danced around Georgiana while she studied Elizabeth with wide eyes.
Viscount Hartwood helped his wife Lady Susan out at a more sedate pace before he came up to Georgiana to give his cousin a kiss on both cheeks. Then with a grin he tried to kiss Darcy as well.
With a small laugh at Hartwood’s usual joke Darcy pushed him away.
His cousin looked very well in his impeccably tailored blue coat, and despite the cold he wore it open so that his waistcoat with a dazzling array of intricately woven silk threads could be admired. He was a dandy in the style of the Prince Regent or Beau Brummel, and if he was not quite so fashionable as those two, he made it up by simultaneously having somewhat more substance.
