Page 53 of What Change Entails

Mr. Gardiner rose to write the necessary note. Mrs. Gardiner went with him, discussing the logistics of sending a servant to Lambton. Miss Darcy asked Lydia whether she would like to see the rose garden before dressing for dinner, and Lydia accepted with an enthusiasm that would have shocked her earlier self, who had declared herself indifferent to every plant in Derbyshire.

Elizabeth remained near the tea table, one abandoned cup in her hand.

Mr. Darcy stood by the open window.

The spaniel beneath the side table sighed in its sleep. Outside, Lydia’s voice carried from the garden, asking whether Pemberley had ever hosted a masquerade. Miss Darcy’s answer was too soft to hear, but Lydia’s delighted “Then it ought!” came clearly enough.

Elizabeth set down the cup before she dropped it.

“I hope,” she said, turning toward Mr. Darcy, “that you know what you have done.”

His eyes moved from the garden to her face. “Invited your sister into my house?”

“And my aunt and uncle. And me.”

“I am aware.”

“You may yet repent it.”

A dog barked outside. Lydia laughed again. Somewhere down the hall Mrs. Reynolds issued orders about linens, fires not needed, flowers to be cut, and trunks to be brought from Lambton.

Darcy let the sounds of the household stirring around them wash over him.

Chapter Seven

Elizabeth woke slowly, aware first of birds singing outside. Light peeked through the curtains, a summer morning glow distilled by shade trees. One curtain had drifted loose from its tie during the night, and sunlight fell in a broad golden stripe across the carpet near the bed. Somewhere below the windows, gravel crunched beneath wheels. Voices carried faintly upward through the open casement. A dog barked once and was answered from farther off near the stable yard, an occurrence Elizabeth was coming to associate with the rhythm of the estate.

For several delightful seconds she lay still without remembering where she was.

Then the previous day’s memories came rushing back.

Elizabeth pushed herself upright too quickly and caught the edge of the coverlet in her hand. Her room, bright and spacious in daylight, no longer possessed the half-unreal quality it had held the previous evening. She had truly slept beneath Mr. Darcy’s roof. A maid had unpacked her gowns. Lydia occupied the adjoining chamber and had laughed herself nearly breathless before bed over the notion that she might become “intimate friends with Derbyshire’s greatest heiresses” if she remained long enough.

Outside the door came quick footsteps and the murmur of servants going about their day.

The sounds ought to have made her uncomfortable. She was, after all, a guest in one of the greatest houses in Derbyshire, dependent upon the generosity of a man she had once accused of ungentlemanlike behavior with considerable conviction.

She sat beneath the canopy a moment longer before getting out of bed. A maid appeared within moments of ringing the bell. With Sally’s help, she dressed more attentively than usual and disliked herself for it. By the time she descended, the house already smelled faintly of coffee, fresh bread, and polished wood warmed by sunlight. Several windows along the corridor stood open to the gardens. Curtains moved lazily in the breeze.

A footman directed her toward the breakfast room before she could lose herself among the passages. He did so respectfully and without stiffness, in a manner suggesting it was usual to have guests wandering unfamiliar corridors before breakfast.

Perhaps they did.

On their first full morning at Pemberley, the house already felt less intimidating than it had upon their arrival. The breakfast room overlooked the east lawn. Mrs. Gardiner sat near one window pouring tea while Mr. Gardiner read a letter beside a dish of apricots. Lydia occupied the place nearest Miss Darcy and was whispering something energetic enough to make Georgiana press her lips together in visible struggle.

Elizabeth paused in the doorway.

Lydia had known Miss Darcy less than a day. Already they behaved like girls sharing secrets at school.

“Lizzy!” Lydia waved a butter knife in greeting before Mrs. Gardiner made her set it down. “You are late. Miss Darcy has been explaining the horrors of fashionable dinners.”

Georgiana giggled. “I merely said they are tiring.”

“She says one must sit perfectly straight for hours while people discuss acquaintances one has never met.” Lydia reached for jam. “I would expire.”

“You would not survive half an hour,” Elizabeth replied, taking the chair beside her aunt.

Lydia affected cheerfulness at the accusation. “Likely not.”