I blinked. “Truly? How very strange! All these years, I remembered that as George, but yes, now that you mention it, I do recall being carried, and he would have been too young. Oh, dash it all, now I shall have to give you credit for every gallant deed of his!”
Fitzwilliam chuckled and set the brake on the carriage. “Never mind that. Come, will you not step down and tour the property more closely? We shall not trespass too intimately, but it does not appear as if we will trouble anyone, and we need not resume our drive just yet.”
Laughing, I placed my hand in his to descend from the carriage, and Mr. Bingley was already gallantly handing Jane down behind us. Truly, this was paradise found! Everything in Derbyshire was, for that matter. I cast my face up to the sky and wandered the shade-dappled grass, turning about and reveling in the warmth of the afternoon.
While Jane and Mr. Bingley strolled quietly along the banks, Mr. Darcy set to unloading our ample picnic, shrugging off his coat to lay it beneath the swinging basket. Despite informal surroundings, not a single item lacked refinement, from crystal glasses to silver utensils carved with the Darcy crest.
“My word, such provisions!” I exclaimed, selecting a wrapped wedge of crumbling cheddar. “One might fancy themselves dining at Pemberley’s own table.”
Darcy’s glance held quiet satisfaction as he uncorked a bottle of wine with practiced hands. “I instructed Cook to supply her very best in honor of the distinguished company I was expecting to host.” He pushed the laden hamper invitingly nearer my perch on the blanket edge. “Do sample her cherry tarts—I believe they were always a favorite of yours.”
I reached unthinking for the indicated delicacy, only to pause with my hand arrested halfway. Yes, these were my favorite childhood treats. But how should Pemberley’s present master and cook retain such intimate culinary details from seven long years past? I lifted bemused eyes to Darcy’s placid features as clarity dawned.
“You arranged this entire outing beforehand, did you not?” I laughed. “Was even this property’s ‘chance discovery’ part of an elaborate stratagem?”
To his credit, Darcy met my unveiled assessment steadily, a rueful quirk touching his lips. “You have found me out. I cannot pretend happenstance alone guided us to this specific spot today.” He extended the coveted plate gently toward me in wordless entreaty. “Can you forgive the benign deception?”
I accepted the proffered tarts slowly, eyes still holding his. Then, with deliberate pleasure, I bit into sticky sweetness, dancing instantly on my tongue with joyful sensations almost startling in their acute familiarity across the years. I savored the rush of memories conjured from Pemberley’s kitchens, shaking my head in admiring censure toward my undeceived host.
“You are all consideration, Mr. Darcy, though your machinations hardly need begging pardon.” I patted the seat beside me invitingly. “Come, we are long overdue for the thorough accounting only hours of conversation can supply.”
Barely waiting for his acknowledgment, I leaned contentedly back against sun-warmed grass to resume my blissful repast. If Pemberley were a food, it would be a cherry tart, best consumed from a picnic basket.
Eighteen
Darcy
Iloweredmyselfontothe plaid blanket, watching Bingley lead Miss Bennet toward the footbridge some yards distant. Doubtless, they meant to relish a bit of private discourse, out of earshot from even the most discreet chaperone. I hardly minded playing inadvertent guardian for such a modest, unaffected chap as Bingley. Far better than trying to chaperone George.
A throat gently cleared nearby and drew my attention back to my fair companion. I found Elizabeth regarding me, curiosity and veiled amusement dancing in her fine eyes. “I suppose such a pretty prospect invites a stroll, Mr. Darcy?” Mischief tilted the corner of her mouth. “Or ought we leave all examining to Mr. Bingley lest we ‘trespass’ too intimately?”
Heat stole up my neck at the thought of escorting her on my arm as if I were courting her. But better to let her be distracted by touring the grounds than permit her to study my face and learn more than she ought. She already saw through my thin excuses—I never had possessed the talent of disguise, as George had, and nor had I ever desired to cultivate it.
I rose and offered my arm in silent invitation to wander the garden and lawn about the house. To my relief, she consented with ready laughter, tucking her hand snugly into the crook of my elbow. And it didn’t… well,shedidn’t feel like a sister when she took my arm like that.
We meandered some minutes in equable silence, her head turning to take in ornamental urns flanking steps leading up to the front door. Curiosity drew her attention back like a lodestone as we circled behind neat boxwood hedges surrounding the charming residence.
“Do you deny then that you possess mysterious insider knowledge about why this house lies so quiet?” She paused, glancing back meaningfully toward the door’s dark mouth. “Are we truly at liberty to be strolling so freely, uninvited?”
I could not restrain the twitch of a wry smile. “You suspect me of bringing you intentionally to play house-breaker?” My free hand covered the slender fingers resting on my arm. “I promise most lawful permission, Madam. Though the particulars of ownership lie… temporarily vague.”
She huffed softly, lips still curved teasingly up at me. “One day, I shall learn your whole shocking scheme, Sir!” But her eyes lifted upward, and I followed her rapt gaze to glimpse the age-darkened timbers of the house’s interior framed through wide front windows. “Is it permissible to look inside?” She pressed closer to the dusty glass pane. “This darling place only wants a loving family within to make it a home.”
She leaned nearer as if to pass straight through brick and wood by fervent wishing, so endearing and natural her reaction. On impulse, I moved to test the latch, startled when the door swung silently inward at my touch. Behind me, Elizabeth gasped in soft surprise. I turned, and her dark eyes searched mine, lips parted uncertainly. Her brows raised, and I nodded, gesturing silently forward into cool dimness.
Floorboards briefly protested our intrusion and then settled with a creak. We moved slowly, footsteps muffled across bare expanses once undoubtedly graced by fine carpets and furnishings. Now, empty rooms echoed only questions.
What family had once filled these vacant spaces with life and laughter? For whom did gray stone walls still stand sentinel until some unknown hand gave Elizabeth the key to her future? I trailed my fingertips along windowsills and wainscoting, irrationally hoping for some whisper or inspiration. Only dust met my inquiring touch, concealing rather than disclosing long-hidden truths.
Beside the parlor’s carved mantlepiece, Elizabeth paused, slender neck craned back, inspecting the plaster ceiling centerpiece still boasting faint flecks of gold leaf. “Such loving detail lavished everywhere. As if it were built for someone who loved their home… these are not mere walls turned to dust by time.”
Her fanciful musing wrenched me back from useless woolgathering. Clearing my throat, I turned my steps back toward the entrance hall, pulse oddly quickening for no clear cause. “Curiosity inspires poetic turns of phrase, I see. Although… Speaking of time’s passage, remind me, please, when you mark your next birthday? You are presently twenty if memory serves?”
“Why yes, I shall be one and twenty next April. On the sixteenth.”
“So, you have not yet reached your majority. I thought it was nearer to hand.”
“Not until next spring. Just a few weeks after your own birthday, as I recall.” Eyes glinting impishly, she added, “I do hope you noted the date this time, sir.”
