Mr. Darcy seemed well acquainted with Mrs. Gardiner’s relatives in the area, and some pleasantries were exchanged between them.
“Mrs. Gardiner, I would kindly suggest that you allow my men to look at the carriage while your servant fetches your cousins. And I must insist you wait inside the house. I shall fetch a phaeton to convey you there.”
“Sir, you are exceedingly generous, but we do not want to intrude,” Mrs. Gardiner replied, her amazement apparent.
Elizabeth was so shocked by his unexpected kindness that she could barely speak.
“Indeed, Mr. Darcy, we could not possibly disturb you even more. We did not know you were at home… We planned only to ride through the park and continue our journey without troubling anyone…”
She knew she was mumbling and could not hold his gaze for more than a moment. He was there, only steps away, dressed — or better said, undressed — as she had never seen him before, holding the easel.
She had expected he would not want to ever see her again — even less speak to her — and feared he might be rude to her uncle and aunt. And yet, he was friendly, generous, and caring — proving that she had misjudged him once again. His kindness and impeccable manners made her ashamed of herself.
“It would be my pleasure if you came into the house. Unless, of course, it would be unpleasant to you,” he added, and Elizabeth could feel his stare on her face. Finally, her eyes dared to meet his.
“Of course not. Quite the opposite,” she whispered.
“We are honoured by your invitation, sir,” Mr. Gardiner said. “We hesitated to accept it in consideration of your comfort, Mr. Darcy.”
“Good. Then it is settled. I shall leave you now. I hope your wait will be short.”
With that, he hurried towards the house with the easel under his arm and the three dogs following him.
Elizabeth’s knees betrayed her, and she leant against the broken carriage, trying to breathe.
“Dear Lord, I cannot believe that was Mr. Darcy!” Mrs. Gardiner exclaimed. “So friendly and kind and considerate! Who could imagine?”
“I certainly could not,” Mr. Gardiner replied. “When I guessed his identity, I feared he would demand we leave his property, based on what Lizzy told us. And there he was — acting the opposite of what we expected. Was he serious when he asked us to go inside the house? Will he truly send men to repair the carriage?”
“Should I go to Lambton, sir?” the coachman asked.
“Yes, of course,” Mr. Gardiner responded. “I am not sure whether you will find us at this very spot or at Pemberley House. I am not sure how to take Mr. Darcy’s words.”
“Sir, look, there are a few men coming,” the coachman pointed out while he freed a horse from the carriage.
Indeed, two men were approaching hastily, while Mr. Darcy’s silhouette could be seen entering through the gates and disappearing behind them.
“I believe we should take Mr. Darcy’s words in earnest and with gratitude,” Mrs. Gardiner uttered. “I cannot imagine the reason for such generosity, but he seemed willing to help us. Lizzy, what do you say? Can you explain his behaviour?”
She said nothing. As if in a dream, she heard her uncle and aunt talking about Mr. Darcy and wondering about his attentions. Speechless, she only watched him until her eyes lost sight of him. No, she could not explain what she had just witnessed. She did not even dare assume the reason for hisfriendliness. He looked different from how she remembered him, both in manners and in appearance. He seemed to have lost weight, his face was less severe and paler, his hair longer, and a shadow of a beard covered his chin. Although he was quite improperly attired for visitors, he looked more handsome than in her recollections; his voice was softer, his gaze darker but gentler. Had he changed in essentials too? Was he the same man who had declared he loved her ardently? The same man she had rejected and offended? Was he angry at seeing her? He was surprised, that could not be doubted. But what other feelings had her impromptu presence aroused in him?
More than the extraordinary change in his manners, her mind and her heart were full of questions and speculations about something more important, more distressing, more stunning: the portraits. Her portraits. He had painted her? And quite faithfully, indeed. Was it possible that he was still thinking of her? The paintings could suggest that; but of what kind were his thoughts? What feelings guided his fingers on the brush?
Her reflections could not last long, as the two men arrived and engaged in conversation with Mr. Gardiner, debating how to fix the wheel. A little while later, a phaeton with two white horses stopped in front of them. A coachman, together with Mr. Gardiner and the other two men, helped Mrs. Gardiner up, followed by her husband and Elizabeth.
“We’ll bring the luggage, sir,” one of the men said as the phaeton began to move. Elizabeth watched it all in a stunned silence, lost between dreams and reality.
Less than an hour ago she had dreaded seeing Mr. Darcy, fearing a violent — yet justified — response on his part. Now she was on her way to his home, with her uncle and aunt, in his carriage, at his special request. Surely that could not be real.
“Are we really going to Pemberley?” Mrs. Gardiner whispered.
“Apparently we are,” Mr. Gardiner replied. “I am not sure what is happening, but I shall not complain, considering it is to your benefit. It would not do to wait in this heat, sitting on the grass, until your cousins arrive.”
“Lizzy dear, you are awfully quiet. Are you upset? I could tell you were not happy to see Mr. Darcy.”
“I am not upset, Aunt. And I was happy, truly. I am just as amazed as you are by his kindness. As I said, we did not part on friendly terms, and I certainly did not expect such attentions.”
“Well, Mr. Darcy certainly did not act like you were not on friendly terms,” Mr. Gardiner replied. “If he is so kind, he cannot have any other reason but you, since he does not know us.”
“Or he might just be a kind and considerate landlord, who is worried that some people suffered an accident on his property,” Elizabeth said.
“True,” Mr. Gardiner admitted. “Generosity is expected of a gentleman of his class. You said his parents were admired and loved in Derbyshire, so he must wish to be worthy of their legacy.”
“That would be a reasonable explanation,” Mrs. Gardiner agreed. “Regardless of his motives, we have nothing else to do but thank him. To be honest, I am curious and anxious to see more of Pemberley House. I glimpsed inside it only once, as a child, but it was from a servants’ door, and it lasted too briefly to remember much.”
From the conversation, Elizabeth realised that neither her uncle nor aunt had noticed the paintings. They had probably been so occupied with the accident and so stunned by Mr. Darcy’s appearance that they had observed nothing else; and that was a true relief for her. If they had, they would have surely recognised her image, and their enquiries would be difficult to answer.
With every moment that took her closer to the house, Elizabeth’s heart pounded harder, and breathing became more difficult. She felt chills along her spine when she noticed Mr. Darcy waiting near the gate, together with an older woman.
