Page 65 of The Crown’s Gift

"Miss Darcy is dear to my sister Mary."

"She has spoken of Miss Mary in every letter."

Mrs Reynolds led them through rooms filled with good art and furniture chosen across generations. She described Darcy's parents without tragedy and Darcy himself without flattery.

"He was always the best landlord and master," she said. "Never an unkind word to a servant. The tenants know he will hear a complaint even when he cannot grant the request."

Elizabeth remembered Hunsford: You do not explain. You pronounce. Perhaps he had learned differently at Pemberley long before he learned to apply it in intimacy.

In the portrait gallery, she stopped before a painting of Darcy at twenty-four. The artist had caught the private curve at one corner of his mouth—the expression Elizabeth had seen when Mary teased him or Georgiana laughed.

"A very fine likeness," Mrs Reynolds said.

Elizabeth stepped closer.

Outside, hoofbeats sounded upon the gravel.

Mrs Reynolds turned toward the window. "Why, that must be the master. He was not expected until dinner."

Elizabeth's heart seemed to fall and rise at once.

Darcy entered the gallery still wearing riding clothes.

He stopped.

For several seconds, Pemberley's master and the woman who had refused him could only stare.

* * *

Darcy recovered first, though not completely.

"Miss Elizabeth."

Elizabeth curtsied. "Mr Darcy. We were told you would be away."

"I returned earlier than planned."

"If we are intruding—"

"You are not."

The answer came too quickly. He looked toward the Gardiners and mastered himself.

Elizabeth introduced them. Darcy greeted Mr Gardiner without hesitation, asked after their journey, and offered refreshment. He did not look embarrassed by their connection to trade. He did not perform excessive warmth to prove the absence of embarrassment. He simply treated them as intelligent, welcome guests.

Mrs Gardiner asked about the stream's management. Darcy answered in detail. Mr Gardiner admired the trout. Within minutes they were discussing leases, mills, and whether a proposed weir would damage downstream farms.

Elizabeth watched, ashamed of how surprised she was.

Darcy caught her expression once. Something like understanding passed through his eyes, but he made no claim upon it.

They walked onto the terrace. The valley opened beneath them, green and sunlit after days of rain.

"Your father would find fault with the northern drainage," Darcy said to Elizabeth when the Gardiners moved ahead.

"Papa finds fault as a form of affection."

"Then he would love it deeply."