Page 1 of Near Pemberley

Chapter I

Elizabeth shifted in her seat for what must have been the third or fourth time within as many minutes, though the carriage moved steadily enough to give her no real cause for discomfort.

Mrs. Gardiner, who sat opposite, glanced at her with a faint smile. “You are not easy, my dear,” she said. “Was the journey too long?”

“No, not at all,” Elizabeth replied quickly. “I am very well, I assure you.”

And she was, in every way that ought to signify. They had a hearty breakfast; the day was fine for travel; the road mostly agreeable, and the Derbyshire countryside offered views which, under other circumstances, she would have admired without reserve.

Yet she found it impossible to sit still.

They were now within a few miles of Lambton.

And beyond Lambton lay Pemberley.

She was vexed with herself for even thinking about the fact, but there it was. She looked out of the window, but she saw very little of what passed before her.

It was unreasonable to be so affected. She had known, when the plan of their tour was first proposed, that this part of the country might bring them uncomfortably near to places she would rather avoid. She had even believed herself prepared for it.

But to be actually here, with every turn of the road bringing them nearer to the neighbourhood of Mr. Darcy, tried her composure severely.

She checked the thought almost at once with impatience.

It was no longer of consequence. Whatever feelings she had once entertained, whether of resentment or something less easily named, they had no proper place now. She had refused him. The matter was settled.

And yet the idea persisted, despite all her reasoning.

That he should be so near.

That she might, by the merest accident, encounter him…

She could not easily prevent her imagination from pursuing the idea further.

She saw it clearly. His look of surprise, perhaps, at seeing her there. Or worse, no surprise at all, only that composed civility which admitted of nothing further. He would bow. She would curtsy. A few words would be exchanged, proper, unremarkable, and entirely void of meaning.

Or he might be cold. That, too, she had reason to expect.

Or altered.

That possibility, she did not know how to consider.

Then she thought of herself as being ungenerous. She had reason to believe that he would behave a gentleman… even if she had confronted him about his behaving otherwise.

There were moments now when she wished she could remember every word spoken at Hunsford with greater certainty.

At the time, she had believed herself entirely justified. Yet memory, viewed at a distance, was seldom so obliging.

She could still recall the force of her anger. What she could no longer determine was whether every expression of it had been equally deserved. After all, whatever his faults, he had spoken of genuine feeling.

Mr. Gardiner, who had been studying the landscape with increasing satisfaction, leant forward suddenly. “There, Lizzy – look there. Is that not a fine view?”

Elizabeth turned obediently towards the window.

“It is indeed,” she replied.

“What did I tell you, Husband?” said her aunt cheerfully. “Derbyshire improves with every mile.”

Mr. Gardiner smiled and agreed, while Elizabeth continued to look in the direction indicated, though she could not afterwards have described what she had seen.