Miss Darcy’s interest was undiminished. “And has Longbourn always been your home?”
“Oh yes,” Kitty said. “We have lived here forever.”
“Mamma says Grandfather Bennet was from Yorkshire,” Lydia added.
Elizabeth could not resist correcting her. “No, Grandpapa Bennet lived in the very northern tip of Warwickshire. Do you not recall? He always said he lived where nearly four counties touched. Warwickshire, Leicestershire, Staffordshire, and . . .” She trailed off, searching her memory.
Miss Darcy, her voice soft but certain, finished the thought. “Derbyshire.”
The girls fell briefly silent as all eyes turned to Miss Darcy.
Elizabeth recovered first. “Why, yes, that is correct. Derbyshire. You are quite knowledgeable of geography, Miss Darcy.”
Miss Darcy’s cheeks coloured faintly, but her expression remained composed. “It is my home county. Pemberley is in Derbyshire.”
“Aunt Gardiner is from Derbyshire too,” Kitty exclaimed.
Lydia, ever bold, leaned forward. “And is Pemberley very grand, Miss Darcy?”
The girl smiled, her quiet manner giving way to an unaffected warmth. “It is very beautiful, though of course I am biased. The house itself is large, with fine rooms and views of the surrounding countryside, but what makes Pemberley truly special is its land. The hills, the woods, the river—it is all so peaceful.”
It sounded wonderful.
“Peaceful?” Lydia repeated, wrinkling her nose. “That sounds boring.”
Elizabeth would have groaned had it not been impolite. “Lydia.”
Miss Darcy, unperturbed, continued with a faint smile. “It is lively in its own way. The seasons bring constant change, and there are always people at work—on the land, in the house. The estate feels alive, even when it is quiet.”
Maria asked hesitantly, “And do you spend much of your time there, Miss Darcy?”
“Before my father died, I lived at Pemberley,” Miss Darcy replied softly. “And my aunt the countess still takes me to visit in the summer. It is more than just my home, you see. It is my family’s work. Every part of it bears the care and attention of my father and now my brother. The way he manages the land, how he looks after the tenants and workers, it is all a reflection of whohe is.” She blushed but finished with a stout, “The best brother I could hope for, and the best man I know.”
Elizabeth had heard this praise for Mr. Darcy before. He was fortunate indeed to have such a sister. “Your brother must be very proud of it.”
“He is,” Miss Darcy assured her. “But it is more than pride. Pemberley, with all its careful planning and management . . . it ishim.” She smiled, perhaps at her whimsical statement, but Elizabeth was intrigued by it.
Kitty, who had been following with unusual interest, piped up, “Do you not ever feel lonely when you are there, Miss Darcy? Living in such a distant place?”
Miss Darcy hesitated, her eyes softening. “Sometimes. But Pemberley always feels like home. And my brother ensures I am never without company when I require it.”
Elizabeth watched Miss Darcy carefully. Unlike Mr. Wickham, Mr. Darcy evidently did not openly discuss his duties; he simply set about doing them.
Lydia broke through Elizabeth’s moment of contemplation. “Well, I should think a place like that would need a great many parties to keep it interesting.”
Miss Darcy laughed softly. “I am sure you would, Miss Lydia. Perhaps one day, you shall visit and bring some of your liveliness to Pemberley.” She leaned in towards the younger girls. “We have an enormous ballroom. You could convince my brother to make use of it.”
Elizabeth smiled, catching the subtle humour in Miss Darcy’s tone. “Perhaps,” she said lightly, “though I suspect you enjoy Pemberley’s peace more than you let on.”
Miss Darcy met Elizabeth’s eyes with a shy but genuine smile. “Perhaps I do. But I also think Pemberley could use a little more laughter now and then.”
Before the conversation could continue, Mamma, who had evidently been following the discussion with one ear while still managing to spar with Lady Lucas, interjected. “Ah, laughter is all very well, Miss Darcy, but a house like Pemberley must have more than laughter to sustain it. I am sure your brother knows the importance of planning for the future. That is where my husband’s father went wrong.”
Elizabeth’s brow furrowed slightly. “Mamma, Grandpapa Bennet always ensured Longbourn was well cared for. What do you mean?”
“Well cared for, perhaps,” Mrs. Bennet said with a huff, “but he was too quick to leave opportunities behind. He was a curate in Warwickshire before he inherited Longbourn, and he had been awarded a very promising living near Newton Regis. But when your grandpapa was called back to Hertfordshire, he promoted another man for the living and allowed that opportunity to slip away.”
“But Mamma,” Mary said, “If Grandpapa Bennet was never to return to Warwickshire, of course he would leave the living to another man. He would wish to see his flock well-tended and the man actually performing the work rewarded for it.”
