“Elizabeth, you are covering yourself in mud!” Mr Bennet would have cried, and yet what pleasure it had given her to remove his boots.
She laid down her cutlery, incapable of eating any longer, but fortunately, there was such animation at the table that nobody observed it.
The meal ended, and Darcy begged them to excuse him for half an hour while he changed, adding that he hoped to find them all afterwards in the drawing room.
“What has happened, my dear?” whispered Mrs Cooper on their way towards the drawing room. She had probably perceived Elizabeth’s agitation, but there was little to be said. How could she explain that she would never again remove her beloved father’s boots, nor afterwards spend hours discussing philosophy, mathematics, or history with him?
Chapter 20
“Shall we take a few turns in the garden?” asked Mrs Cooper, knowing how much Elizabeth loved walking.
The grass was still wet, and in the distance the wooded paths were probably yet muddy, but the principal gravel walks near the house were already accessible, since that fine gravel seemed to erase every trace of rain.
“I remember when I was little, every rainfall produced a calamity in the house because we ran in and out without cleaning our shoes. Poor Mama often begged Papa to lay such gravel at Longbourn,” said Elizabeth. “Once he sent all of us to London; we believed he was merely delighted to remain alone for a few days, but when we returned every path around the house, even those stretching towards the wood, had been covered with gravel…I did not often witness scenes of affection between my parents, but I remember Mama throwing her arms about his neck, and him embracing her…Good heavens, poor Mama. In the end, I believe they loved one another.”
“They certainly loved one another. Your mother accepted his ideas about the children’s education, though she was always far more grounded in reality than he.”
“And he always thanked her through small gestures such as that gravel,” murmured Elizabeth. “I am so glad I saw them embraced that day.”
“For the wrong reasons, however,” replied Mrs Cooper with humour. “You imagined a love story such as those in your novels, ending in marriage. Yet it is perfectly certain that your mother was married to your father by her family. And still, the love you witnessed came between them in the end. It happens sometimes that love springs after marriage, true love, not merely affection.”
“Your discourse is more subtle than Mama’s, but in the end it says exactly the same thing,” returned Elizabeth, smiling, suddenly in rather better spirits.
It was a beautiful day, and Pemberley offered her a setting in which, for a few moments, she could forget grief and anxiety. They were not alone in the park, but had already wandered far from the others. Miss Darcy waved to them from the terrace, though she did not join them, being engaged in conversation with the colonel.
“I perceive you already have friends amongst this group,” observed Elizabeth.
“They are people from Derby whom I already know, though I have never met them on occasions such as this. As I told you, Derby is not Meryton; it is rather a miniature London. There is no ton properly speaking, but several families from Derby and the neighbouring landowners form a separate society. Take Lady Fletcher and her husband, Sir Andrew…his rank is no higher than that of Sir William from Meryton, yet here in Derby they possess a much greater standing, and their friendship with Mr Darcy only adds to their consequence.”
“And you wished to belong to that society, this society invited to Pemberley,” said Elizabeth, without reproach, merely as an observation.
“Yes. Is that so very wrong?”
“Not in the least.”
“Call it snobbery,” replied Mrs Cooper, though with such detachment and sincerity that Elizabeth admired her exceedingly for it. Mr Bingley’s sisters likewise wished to be amongst those belonging to the ton, but their manner had been entirely different; they appeared to believe that, at the same time, they must despise all those who did not belong to the society into which they themselves wished to enter.
“To speak honestly, all my life I dreamed of coming to Pemberley,” continued Mrs Cooper with the same sincerity, and Elizabeth, closing her parasol, took her arm.
“Elizabeth, the sun is strong; take care.”
“In summer, I was always tanned, and Mama despaired of it. There is nothing dreadful in that. Yet it is not the sun I think of now, it is Pemberley. I am glad we are here.”
“For my sake?” asked Mrs Cooper rather cunningly.
“And for mine,” answered Elizabeth with a smile. Then she pointed towards Darcy, who, from the terrace, was signalling for them to return.
“He is certainly preparing something for us,” she observed.
“My dear, I believe it would be more correct to say he is preparing something for you, because everything seems to revolve around you.”
“Do you think so?” Elizabeth looked at Mrs Cooper with vague perplexity, while Mrs Cooper, too, closed her parasol as they approached the steps. “And still I have the impression he would no longer ask me to marry him.”
Mrs Cooper paused and looked at her. A few steps more and they might be overheard from the terrace, but at that moment she wished to know more.
“Why?”
“A man who admires you behaves in a particular manner.”
