At times they paused beside streams or small stone bridges simply because Elizabeth admired the prospect; at others, they walked together through market towns or along stretches of rising road from which the countryside could be viewed for miles. As they travelled farther north, the landscape gradually changed about them. The fields grew wilder, the hills steeper, and the roads narrower, until at last even Elizabeth, who had admired Derbyshire greatly, began to understand why so many spoke of the Lakes with something approaching reverence.
She remembered her husband’s tendency towards understatement rather strongly when they finally arrived.
The Darcy family possessed a cottage on the shores of Lake Windermere where, according to family tradition, Darcy men had brought their brides for generations. Cottage, however, proved a rather liberal description. The house was not so large as Pemberley, certainly, but it was nevertheless nearly the size of Longbourn itself, with sweeping windows overlooking the lake, extensive gardens terraced into the hillside, and enough rooms that Elizabeth suspected several guests might comfortably reside there for weeks without ever crossing paths.
As the carriage rolled to a stop before the stone entrance, Elizabeth turned slowly to look at her husband.
“This,” she said at last, “is your family’s cottage?”
Fitzwilliam glanced out the window with no apparent awareness that anything about the place might require explanation. “It is smaller than Pemberley,” he said with a small shrug and a wry grin.
Elizabeth could not help laughing, for there was not the slightest hint of irony in the remark. In that moment, she began to suspect that the Darcys had spent generations applying modest language to entirely immoderate circumstances.
The cottage—Elizabeth smiled each time she called it that—was exceedingly well supplied for a couple upon their wedding tour. Situated on the very shore of the lake, it possessed its own small jetty and a rowing boat, which Fitzwilliam assured her had belonged to the family for years and was kept in excellent repair. They made frequent use of it, taking little voyages upon the water whenever the weather permitted, sometimes merely drifting near the shore whilst they admired the surrounding hills, and at others rowing farther out, where the lake stretched wide and glasslike beneath the changing northern skies.
Fitzwilliam handled the oars with practised ease, guiding the boat with the same quiet competence he seemed to bring to nearly every undertaking. Elizabeth, naturally, declared that she must learn as well, particularly when he told her of a smaller lake near Pemberley and a similar boat where he had first learnt to manage the oars as a boy.
Her husband obliged her readily enough, though Elizabeth soon discovered that rowing required rather more coordination than she had anticipated. Her first attempts produced little besides vigorous splashing and a remarkable tendency to send the boat spinning steadily in circles.
Although Fitzwilliam bore her efforts with admirable patience, Elizabeth suspected his forbearance was not wholly free of amusement at her expense.
“Do not laugh at me,” she chided as she attempted once again to guide the small boat in something approaching a straight line towards the shore. She was not truly troubled by his amusement, but she felt she ought to scold him, at least a little. In truth, she was delighted to find him willing to tease her.
“I am endeavouring not to,” he replied with suspicious gravity, though the unmistakable curve at the corner of his mouth betrayed him entirely.
“You are failing in that endeavour most miserably.” Her tone was severe, but she was certain her own lips were betraying her, and she could not truly be angry with him.
“I merely admire your determination,” he said. “Few ladies would attack a lake with such enthusiasm. I am delighted that you are making the effort, and you have certainly improved from your first assault upon the lake.”
Elizabeth laughed despite herself, though a moment later she gave a triumphant little cry as the boat finally obeyed her intended direction for more than a few strokes.
“There!” she declared with far too much enthusiasm. “I have mastered it.”
“At present,” Fitzwilliam agreed solemnly. “But if you do not attend to what you are about and keep at it, you will capsize us, and I, for one, have no desire to swim in this lake.”
The boat immediately began drifting sideways once more as Elizabeth lifted the oars too high from the water, and her enthusiasm caused it to rock precariously.
Elizabeth surrendered the oars with a groan whilst her husband’s carefully restrained composure dissolved at last into open laughter.
Monday, 14 September 1812
They had planned to remain at the Lakes for a fortnight, but when the end of their second week arrived, neither was yet eager to leave. However, after a few days more had passed, they both felt the pull of responsibility and began to speak in earnest of journeying to Pemberley.
“It should take three or four days to make the journey,” Darcy said one morning as they lingered over tea after breaking their fast, “and with the harvest nearly upon us, we ought to return. Georgiana mentioned in her last letter that Mrs Annesley has been assisting her and Miss Mary in making plans for the harvest festival.”
Elizabeth, who had been gazing out towards the lake, turned back to him with interest. “How do you typically celebrate the harvest at Pemberley?”
Darcy paused before answering, his fingers resting lightly against the handle of his cup. For several moments, he allowed his eyes to drift to the window as he considered the harvest festivals he had known throughout his life.
“It has been a quieter affair since my mother died,” he admitted at length. “We continued the tradition after her passing, but while she lived, the festival was far more lively. The first year after her death, my father could scarcely bear to think of it at all, though Mrs Reynolds ensured something was done for the tenants. Everyone understood the circumstances.”
A faint smile touched his expression. “In the years that followed, there was generally a dinner for the tenants and their families, and afterwards dancing and other amusements, though those festivities usually commenced after my father and I withdrew. Since becoming master, I have attempted to introduce a few diversions for the children and such things, but I cannot claim the matter received much of my attention.”
He glanced towards Elizabeth then, his look softening. “I believe, perhaps without fully admitting it even to myself, that I was waiting for my wife to take charge of it once more. Last year, however, Georgianasurprised me. Though it was difficult for her, she began taking an interest in such responsibilities and asked if she might assist with the preparations.”
“That is good,” Elizabeth said with a bright smile. “If we begin our journey on Tuesday, then we can certainly arrive at Pemberley within the week, can we not?”
At his nod, she continued. “I doubt I shall have enough time to meet all your tenants prior to the event, since I imagine it is less than a month away . Still, I should at least be able to meet those I have not yet had occasion to visit during the celebration. There is only one thing I would wish to alter in your description of the festivities.”
