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Mr. Williamson tried to blink back the tears that always appeared on remembrance of Lizzybet. “Yes, it was a tragedy. I find it hard to believe sometimes that she is gone.” A ragged breath shook his gangly frame as his eyes sought Elizabeth’s headstone over the others. “I suppose that that is why you may find me there so often, reading the inscription ... just to remind myself.”

Mrs. Haversham touched his arm. “I apologise. I should not have brought it up. I did not realise your pain was still so tender.”

He tried to rally. “You have said nothing amiss. I thought that I had come to accept her loss months ago, but a young man came looking for her grave a few weeks past. I am afraid that his pain was so fresh—so raw—that it stirred my own. I assure you that I shall be well, given enough time.”

She smiled sincerely. “I shall pray that the Lord stays close to you in your sorrow and one day soon relieves you of it entirely, so that your only memories of her are happy ones.”

“Thank you, madam. I shall believe with you that He will.”

There was a rumble of thunder in the distance, and they both looked up at the dark clouds gathering. Mr. Williamson pulled his collar up, motioning towards the gate that marked the entrance to the small cemetery.

“Though there is sure to be sunshine tomorrow, for now I think it wise that we move along rather quickly, or we shall both get soaked.”

Big drops of rain began falling, and each could hear the other’s laughter as they ran in different directions.

~~~*~~~

Reaching his small abode, Mr. Williamson pushed opened the door and began wiping his shoes on the small rug just inside the door. With his dear Agatha gone, he tried to keep the little cottage as clean as possible. As he walked over to the kitchen table, he was surprised to find a letter lying there. It was normal for the young man who brought his letters to leave them on the table, but he had already heard from his brother this week and was not expecting any more correspondence. Noting the elegant script, he glanced up to see where the letter had been franked and was surprised to see the return—Fitzwilliam Darcy, Pemberley, Derbyshire.

How unusual to get a letter from him right after my conversation with Mrs. Haversham about Lizzybet. Are you trying to tell me something, Lord?

Carefully unfolding it, he began to read, his brow furrowing the further he read. Past the usual pleasantries, the letter was an invitation, almost a plea, for his presence. After reading though it once, he began again at the top, reaffirming the important parts.

…have much to talk with you about concerning Elizabeth…

…consider accepting my offer of a coach to collect you and bring you to Town…

…stay with me at Darcy House…

…if agreeable…travel on to Pemberley…

Scratching his head, Mr. Williamson wondered what more Mr. Darcy could possibly have to talk about regarding Lizzybet. He thought they had covered everything when the young man was in Meryton. Sighing, he knew he would never refuse someone in need and especially not a man he now considered to be a friend. Besides, he had insisted that Mr. Darcy contact him if he ever needed to talk, and if that poor young man still needed his help, then he must make himself available.

The fact that a change of scenery and a few weeks of a different occupation was part of the invitation only made his acceptance easier.

Pemberley

As is common after a terrible storm, the next day dawned sunny and beautiful. Only the broken branches and leaves strewn about the portico and grounds testified to the severity of the weather that preceded the bright blue skies and downy white clouds.

The visiting party practically fled from Pemberley at daybreak, though Mrs. Reynolds made sure Cook had plenty of food prepared to break their fast before they departed. Mr. Darcy had made a brief appearance in the dining room, speaking politely, though never acknowledging Gwendolyn, as he assured Lord and Lady Greenwich that he had been happy to provide them respite from the storm. Nevertheless, it seemed to the housekeeper that the Greenwiches were in a big hurry to resume their journey and took very little time to eat. Thus, by the time Elizabeth made her way downstairs, only William remained in the room, finishing a well-deserved cup of tea. Looking up at her entrance, he could not hold back a smile as he greeted her.

“Good morning.”

Elizabeth tried to form a smile, but her expression changed to one of confusion. “Good morning. Have your visitors come down yet?”

“Our guests were up very early and left several minutes ago.”

“Oh?” Elizabeth stated, her confusion changing to dismay. “I am sorry I did not get to see them before they departed.”

Now William was curious. “And why, may I ask, would you care to see Lady Waltham again? I take it you were not that anxious to see Lord and Lady Greenwich?”

Elizabeth looked down nervously. “No, I wanted to see her. I was much too fascinated by her sudden arrival and her show of temper to actually look at her closely.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “I thought this might be my last chance to study her appearance ... to understand her appeal.”

William stood and moved to take both her hands in his. Neither spoke, though she knew he was waiting for an explanation. Still studying her slippers, she let out a resigned sigh. “If you must know, I saw her go into your room last night.”

William closed his eyes, irritated that Lady Waltham’s antics might have upset Elizabeth. “And did you see her leave shortly thereafter?”

“No.” She tried to cover her concern with a mirthless laugh. “I could not bear to know how long she stayed.”