Page 64 of The Crown’s Gift

"We may not travel so far. My uncle's business delayed us."

"Derbyshire offers some tolerable views if the Lakes prove impossible."

The word tolerable passed between them. This time both smiled.

"So I have heard," Elizabeth said.

He released her hand. "Goodbye, Miss Elizabeth."

That afternoon he left for Pemberley with Georgiana and Mrs Annesley. Their two carriages travelled by measured stages, stopping for two nights on the northward road. Darcy sent word from each inn so Sir Thomas and Mary would know Georgiana remained well.

After a fortnight at Pemberley, Georgiana and Mrs Annesley went to the Matlocks' Derbyshire seat for a short visit. Darcy remained at Pemberley; his sister was expected home the following day.

In late July, Elizabeth travelled to Gracechurch Street to join her aunt and uncle. The Gardiner carriage left London the following morning. Jane was to marry in October, and Elizabeth welcomed weeks in which no lace, breakfast china, or seating plan required judgment. They travelled through Oxford and Warwickshire, visited Blenheim, endured rain near Kenilworth, and reached Lambton beneath a clear evening sky.

Mrs Gardiner had spent part of her youth there. She greeted streets, shops, and distant hills like old acquaintances who had aged well.

"Pemberley lies five miles away," she said over supper at the inn. "We might tour it tomorrow. The housekeeper admits visitors when the family is absent."

Elizabeth's spoon paused.

Mr Gardiner noticed. "We need not."

"Mr Darcy is home," Elizabeth said. "Or was expected to be."

Her aunt's eyes sharpened with affectionate interest. "Then we shall not intrude."

Elizabeth looked toward the window. Darcy had said Derbyshire offered tolerable views. Had it been invitation or ordinary courtesy? He had promised not to intrude, not demanded that she avoid his county.

"I should like to see it," she said. "If visitors are admitted."

Mrs Gardiner did not smile, which was how Elizabeth knew she wished to.

The next morning a servant at the inn confirmed that Pemberley's master was away visiting a tenant near Matlock and not expected until evening.

Elizabeth dressed with unreasonable care and disliked herself for noticing.

The road entered the estate gradually. Woods rose on either side, old and richly varied. Then the carriage climbed, turned, and Pemberley appeared across the valley.

The house stood upon rising ground, neither formal nor ostentatious. A stream widened before it, crossed by a stone bridge. The banks had been shaped without appearing forced. Trees framed rather than concealed the building.

Elizabeth leaned forward.

She had expected magnificence. She had not expected harmony.

"It is beautiful," Mrs Gardiner said.

"Yes."

Elizabeth imagined Darcy growing among these hills, learning that order could coexist with wildness. She thought of Netherfield's improvements under her father and understood how an estate might be both duty and expression.

Mrs Reynolds received them in the hall. She was a respectable woman of sixty whose pride in Pemberley required no embellishment.

When she learned Elizabeth's name, recognition warmed her face.

"Sir Thomas Bennet's daughter? Mr Darcy wrote that your family gave Miss Darcy every kindness during a most distressing circumstance."

Elizabeth had not known he wrote of them.