Page 113 of Near Pemberley

“The packet had been forwarded from Pemberley. Correspondence from Derbyshire usually arrives once a week, and I confess I neglected the bundle for several days. Most such packets contain estate reports, tenants’ concerns, accounts, and similar matters. During the last week, my attention was occupied elsewhere.”

There was enough dry humour in the remark to make her smile despite herself.

“After our conversation at Gracechurch Street, I returned home and found a letter from Longbourn amongst the others.” He paused. “I was astonished.”

Elizabeth looked away. “I had already convinced myself that you had read it and regretted receiving it.”

“No.”

The answer came with such force that she looked back at him immediately.

“No,” he repeated more quietly. “Regret was not amongst my feelings.”

A strange silence followed.

“I am glad you found my letter to your father.”

The remark surprised her. “Glad?”

“Had you not found it, I should never have known… your sentiments.” His eyes held hers. “That would have been a considerable loss.”

Elizabeth lowered her gaze. The warmth rising in her cheeks was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.

Darcy hesitated. Then, with the air of a man stepping onto uncertain ground, he continued. “There is something else I ought to tell you.”

She waited.

“Had your sister not disappeared, and had your visit to Pemberley occurred as I hoped it might…” He stopped and gave a short laugh at himself. “I find I am not saying this very well.”

“Neither am I hearing it very calmly.” The admission escaped before she could stop it.

His expression softened. “If matters had proceeded normally, I should have waited until my guests departed. Then I should have travelled to Longbourn.”

Elizabeth’s breath caught. The implication was unmistakable.

Darcy continued. “I have wondered repeatedly whether I would have been favourably received.”

Elizabeth swallowed. The memory of Lambton rose vividly before her. His kindness. His attentions. The hopes she had scarcely admitted even to herself.

“Yes.” The word was little more than a whisper. Then she found her voice. “Yes, Mr. Darcy. You would have been.”

He looked away briefly. The relief upon his face was so genuine that it touched her unexpectedly. “But Lydia did disappear,” Elizabeth said softly. “And now everything is different.”

Darcy’s gaze returned to her. “Is it?”

She almost laughed. “Mr. Darcy, my family has become a public spectacle.”

“Temporary scandals are often forgotten.”

“Not in Hertfordshire.” The answer came at once.

She began walking again, and he fell into step beside her.

“You do not understand Meryton. Everybody knows. The neighbours know. The shopkeepers know. The servants know. Every morning call, every assembly, every dinner invitation…” She shook her head. “People will be kind. Some of them genuinely so. But they will never forget.”

There was no bitterness in her voice – only certainty. “Jane will suffer for it. Kitty certainly will. Even Mary, who has never done anything improper in her life, will suffer for it.”

She smiled sadly. “And Lydia...” The sentence remained unfinished.