Page 93 of Near Pemberley

Yours faithfully,

Edward Gardiner

Darcy read the note twice.

Mr. Bennet’s arrival was hardly unexpected. Had he received an express informing him that his daughter had been found, he would surely have arrived in London the very next day. It took Mr. Bennet another day.

Yet the prospect of the meeting filled him with less anticipation than unease. The conversation was unlikely to be pleasant.

Mr. Bennet had every reason to wish his daughter returned immediately; Darcy, however, was far from convinced such a course would be wise.

After a moment’s consideration, he folded the note and rose.

He had no engagement which could not be postponed.

An hour later, his carriage turned into Gracechurch Street.

The weather was overcast once more. A fine mist lingered in the air, softening the outlines of the buildings and leaving the pavements damp beneath passing feet.

Darcy scarcely noticed. His thoughts remained fixed upon the conversation ahead. Mr. Bennet was not a man he knew well. Their previous acquaintance had been brief and conducted under very different circumstances.

What gratitude the gentleman might feel for Lydia’s recovery would likely be tempered by embarrassment, wounded pride, and the uncomfortable necessity of discussing his daughter’s future with a comparative stranger. None of which promised an agreeable interview.

The servant admitted him immediately. “Mr. Gardiner is expecting you, sir.”

Darcy surrendered his hat and gloves. “Thank you.”

The servant led him towards the drawing room. Gardiner must have decided against waiting in the study. A sensible choice, perhaps. There were matters concerning Lydia which Mrs. Gardiner might reasonably wish to hear discussed.

The servant reached the door, opened it, and announced: “Mr. Darcy.”

Darcy stepped forward.

Then stopped.

His glance swept the room, and his mind quickly registered that there were more people in the room than expected.

Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. Mr. Bennet.

His gaze moved to the window. There stood the fourth figure.

For one extraordinary moment, he forgot entirely why he had come.

Elizabeth Bennet was standing beside the window.

Chapter XX

Elizabeth.

Miss Elizabeth.

He stared.

He wondered whether he looked as surprised as he felt.

Only that morning, he imagined her on a country walk near Longbourn… Now, she stood before him.

For one disordered moment, his attention caught upon the delicate curve of her neck – some small, familiar grace made extraordinary by her presence. Then every thought resolved itself into one impossible fact: she was here.