Page 17 of Near Pemberley

The place itself seemed altered – not so much in reality, but in association. He saw it now with a different eye. Formerly, he had considered only its beauty, order, and consequence. Now he found himself wondering how it appeared to others. Whether its grandeur intimidated where it ought to have invited ease. Whether Elizabeth herself, walking through its rooms, would see the same reserve and pride she had once reproached in him.

That indifference no longer satisfied him.

Before he had crossed fully into the house, another circumstance caught his attention. Mrs. Reynolds was conducting visitors through the principal rooms.

Darcy paused almost involuntarily.

Formerly, he might have withdrawn at once, leaving the party to finish their tour unobserved. Indeed, for many years, he had preferred precisely such an arrangement, finding the admiration of strangers awkward at best and tiresome at worst.

The custom itself was not new. Since succeeding to the estate, he had allowed access to the grounds, and occasionally to the house itself. Formerly, however, he had regarded such matters with indifference. The visitors came and went; their opinions neither sought nor considered.

Now, however, the impulse to retreat was checked almost as soon as it arose. Had he not resolved to alter what ought to be altered in himself? The visitors, after all, had done nothing to deserve neglect merely because they were unknown to him.

With that thought, simple though it was, he joined the small group.

And it was there, upon first addressing the couple, that he unknowingly came within a single unspoken name of Elizabeth Bennet.

Chapter VI

Georgiana received him with unaffected pleasure, her happiness in his return too sincere to be overlooked.

He was glad to see her.

Indeed, in Georgiana’s society, he found more ease than he had expected. Her gentleness, her dependence upon his judgement, her quiet and affectionate trust, all soothed a mind which had lately known little rest. With her, he was more nearly himself than he had been since leaving Kent.

She received him with a warmth untouched by reserve or ceremony. She spoke at once – as she only ever did with him – of all the small occurrences of the house during his absence, interrupting herself more than once in her eagerness to be understood. Whatever alterations disappointment and self-reproach had worked in him during the preceding months, none were required in her presence. Georgiana loved him too entirely to observe with severity what others might have condemned and trusted him too completely to suppose him capable of serious fault.

To be loved so entirely humbled him.

There was comfort in being loved without question. Georgiana’s regard neither rose nor diminished according to success, consequence, or the world’s opinion; it attached itself to him simply because he was her brother, and would, he knew, survive faults far greater than any he had yet confessed even to himself.

And yet, painful as the acknowledgement was, he became increasingly sensible that such affection, though precious, was no longer sufficient for his happiness.

For the first time in his life, he had desired another sort of attachment entirely – not dutiful, not familial, not founded upon long habit and natural tenderness, but freely given by a woman whose esteem had come to matter to him more than he had ever believed possible.

And that love he had lost.

Or rather, he corrected himself, it had never been his to lose.

The reflection cast a momentary shadow over feelings which otherwise might have been peaceful. Still, Georgiana, happily unaware of the direction of his thoughts, continued speaking with such unaffected pleasure at his return that he could not long remain wholly melancholy in her presence.

He had always considered her happiness among the first duties of his life. Yet, now, seeing the eagerness with which she listened to every account of his journey and the quiet satisfaction which his mere presence restored to her, he felt more strongly than before how much of her comfort depended upon him. The thought awakened not pride, but tenderness.

That evening, after he had refreshed himself and changed from travelling dress, they spent several hours together in the small drawing room Georgiana most preferred – a room less magnificent than the principal apartments, but more frequently inhabited, and therefore more comfortable.

Georgiana, whose natural timidity disappeared almost entirely when alone with her brother, soon began to speak with animation of the preparations she had undertaken for the approaching guests.

She had altered the arrangement of flowers in the blue drawing room no fewer than three times and now sought his opinion on a fourth.

Darcy gave it gravely.

Georgiana changed it again the following morning.

***

Later that evening, after Georgiana had withdrawn and the house had gradually settled into quiet, Darcy remained for some time alone in his study.

The windows stood partly open to the softness of the summer night. Beyond them, the grounds descended into shadow; the last light lingered faintly upon the western horizon, while nearer at hand the familiar sounds of Pemberley – distant footsteps below stairs, the closing of a door somewhere in the servants’ wing, the low stirring of leaves beyond the terrace – blended into that peculiar stillness which belongs only to large houses at rest.