The pride in his voice could not be mistaken, but Elizabeth could not imagine how anyone couldnotfeel pride in such a library! “I have never imagined – are there really this many books in the world?” she asked, incredulously.
The Gardiners had already begun walking the perimeter of the room, exclaiming over various volumes.
“How are they organized? I had difficulty enough finding what I wanted at Hatchard’s, and it is not a tenth the size of this room.”
“There are sections,” Mr. Darcy explained. “Look, this map shows the different sections.” He walked to one of the large tables, opened a drawer, and took out a rolled-up paper. Unrolling it, he showed her that there were shelves for poetry, history, geography, botany, Greek mythology, Roman mythology, languages, travelogues, biographies, essays, and so on. “Each section has its own list of what it contains and where it may be found.”
“This is incredible, Mr. Darcy.” How readily she could imagine sitting in this room on a cold winter day, curled up on a sofa in front of the fireplace! She could have had that life, if only – and she stopped herself. There was no point in dwelling on regrets.
“Novels are here,” Miss Darcy said, slipping past Elizabeth and walking to a nearby shelf. “I made Brother rearrange things so that it was easy to get to the novels!”
Mr. Darcy smiled at his sister. “Georgiana made the point that if anyone needed late-night reading, it was far more likely to be a novel than anything else; so novels should be close at hand and not require a ladder.”
Mr. Darcy clearly adored his sister; Elizabeth could only imagine the pain her almost-elopement must have caused him. No wonder he hated Mr. Wickham so!
Mrs. Gardiner returned to their host. “Mr. Darcy, I had no idea that the books my father had sold you would end up in a veritable literary palace!”
“He came to see it, you know,” Mr. Darcy remarked.
“Did he? He never mentioned it.”
“Yes; my father invited him to peruse the shelves so that he might have a better idea of what sort of volumes he was looking for. My father often said that the look of delight on Mr. Wakefield’s face was one that he would treasure to his final day.” As I will treasure the look on Elizabeth Bennet’s face, he thought.
“It is growing rather late, Elizabeth,” Mrs. Gardiner said. “We should return to the inn.”
It was agreed that Mr. Darcy would call at the inn the next day, along with whichever of his guests chose to accompany him. Miss Darcy was everything affectionate upon parting with Elizabeth, expressing her sincere hope that they might meet again soon.
On the drive back to the inn, the Gardiners spoke with great happiness at having been so warmly received by Mr. Darcy. “He has quite a nice smile, do you not think so, Elizabeth?” Mrs. Gardiner asked.
Elizabeth agreed, and then was pressed to give her opinion as to his general person, his house, the grounds, and his sister. “What are you about, Aunt?” Elizabeth finally asked.
“I am attempting to determine if you are as much in love with him as he is with you.”
“With me! Surely not,” she said at once.
“Oh, I am certain of it,” was the reply. “And you very obviously have feelings for him. No, no, you shall not dissuade me. You have been in a rare dither since we first discussed coming to Pemberley. I am not blind, Lizzy, nor particularly stupid. But I see that I have made you uncomfortable, so I shall say no more.”
Elizabeth was grateful when the carriage reached the inn and she could retreat to the privacy of her room, where she could recall every word, every gesture, every expression of Mr. Darcy’s.
Chapter Three
August 1, 1812
We are going through Croydon?” Lydia asked. “But we should be heading west now, should we not?” Lydia had paid very little attention to her studies in general, but she had always hoped to travel, and thus had some notion of geography.
“We are first going to London,” George Wickham replied.
“But why?” Lydia asked.
“I have not enough money to get us to Gretna Green, Lydia, my sweet,” Mr. Wickham replied. “But I am owed money by a man in London, and once I have that, we can be on our way to Scotland.”
Lydia felt uneasy at this, but then he began to kiss her and fondle her, and she forgot her misgivings. Once they arrived in London, however, she was shocked at the lodgings he intended for them. “You cannot be serious,” she told him, head high.
“You wished for adventure,” he reminded her. “You wished to do things your sisters had not done, did you not?”
She admitted that this had indeed been her goal.
“Well, I assure you that none of your sisters has yet to stay at an inn in Whitechapel,” he assured her, smiling. “And, in any case, this is all I can afford just now.”
