She walked in his shadow, yet there was something—which she could not define or describe—that alerted her to his presence, causing flutters deep within. She once looked upon him with disdain, but now, could her feelings be tangled with a problematic sense of regard toward him? She wished to let out a huff and stomp her foot and pound her fists in the air to rid herself of them.

They came upon the rest of the party, who stood in a circle conversing. Rosalyn had secured Miss Darcy’s attention, for which Elizabeth was grateful. The two young ladies were talking about their travels, Rosalyn conversing in a most animated, unnatural manner. Fortunately, the energetic conversations around her caused those earlier feelings she experienced to diminish.

Miss Darcy’s blue eyes lit up when she looked over at Elizabeth. With a genuine smile, she said, “It is good to see you again, Miss Bennet. Welcome to Pemberley.”

“Thank you, Miss Darcy. It is a pleasure.”

Elizabeth’s heart calmed adequately, having both initial meetings over, but she was at a loss to know where to fix her gaze. Mr. Darcy was situated behind her again, and she did not feel the freedom to look out over the park or up at the house, for fear he would suspect admiration on her part.

She could not deny that the woods and park were beautiful and the house magnificent, but she reasoned that if she gazed with admiration upon any of them, he might believe her to feel something like regret for turning this all down. She contemplated looking down at her feet, but felt that would only make the likelihood of those feelings even greater. No, the only place she felt she could look without any speculation on his part was up at the sky, for certainly Mr. Darcy could not rightfully claim any of it as his own.

Chapter 8

After receiving profuse words of admiration for the park along with gratitude for extending the invitation to Pemberley from their guests, Mr. and Miss Darcy invited them inside. With each step Elizabeth took up the marble steps toward the great door of the house, she felt an increasing sense of eagerness to see the interior. She had certainly been captivated by the woods and grounds that surrounded Pemberley. The exterior of the home itself was truly magnificent. She was now fervent to view the home itself.

Putting away all thought of who the owner was—and to whom it had once been offered—she stepped inside with the others.

Elizabeth stifled her gasp but could not conceal her look of admiration as they stepped into the entryway. It was truly majestic, in a way that gave honour to those who built it centuries before, as well as its heritage through the years. She could not deny that it was everything agreeable to her sensibilities.

It took barely a moment for her mind to be settled on the subject. She could not—she would not—keep her views of the place to herself. It was far too beautiful for her to remain silent. Straightening her shoulders and taking a deep breath, she joined the others in their warm approbation.

“You have a beautiful home, Miss Darcy,” she said softly. Turning her head slightly, she met Mr. Darcy’s eyes and acknowledged him, as well, with a demure nod. “Mr. Darcy.”

He returned her compliment with a nod of his own, his eyes never leaving her face. Feeling an uncharacteristic blush threatening to spread across her features, she quickly turned back to face Miss Darcy. Unfortunately, Rosalyn had now garnered the young lady’s attention and was uttering unending words of admiration. Again Elizabeth did not know where to look, upon what to settle her eyes. It was all too grand in its aspect… too humbling in the realization that it could all have been hers.

“Thank you, Miss Bennet,” Miss Darcy replied after a moment, acknowledging her words of appreciation in the midst of Rosalyn’s effusive praise. “That is very kind of you.” Elizabeth readily noticed the look of discomfiture written across her features. Certainly her presence there reminded Miss Darcy of Mr. Bingley and her recent loss.

The servants lined up with the luggage, and Mr. Darcy issued instructions regarding the rooms in which each member of the party was to reside. Turning back to the party, he clasped his hands together. “The servants will take each of you to your rooms where you may freshen up. We shall dine in two hours, so please take whatever time you need. Feel free to rest, or you may tour the house if you are so inclined. See Mrs. Reynolds if that is your wish. Presently my other guests—a longtime family friend and his family and my cousin—are relaxing after a rather full day. You shall meet them at supper. I am quite certain you shall enjoy their company.”

“The Colonel is here?” Elizabeth asked as she turned to him, a smile brightening her features.

“No,” Mr. Darcy answered softly. “It is not the Colonel.”

“Oh,” she replied, her smile disappearing as she unwittingly bit her lower lip. She would have enjoyed the Colonel’s diverting company. Her eyes narrowed at the sudden thought that it might be Anne to whom he referred. If it was Anne, Rosalyn might hear of their “expected” marriage. She would be devastated. An unwitting look of concern swept across her features.

Darcy’s jaw clenched as he studied Elizabeth’s demeanour. “It is another cousin, Peter Hamilton, the son of my father’s sister.”

“I see,” Elizabeth replied.

“Well, unless you have any questions, I shall allow you to proceed to your rooms. The servants will show each of you the way,” Darcy said, giving a quick sharp bow. “I shall see you at supper.” With that, he turned to walk away.

As they followed the servants up the stairs, Elizabeth felt her elbow being grasped somewhat violently. She turned to see that Rosalyn was the culprit.

“You are acquainted with one of his cousins?” Rosalyn asked in a hushed, excited voice. “Why did you not tell me?”

Elizabeth looked at her with more than a little amazement, but answered quickly. “I did not know you were interested in Mr. Darcy’s cousin, as well.” She gave her a teasing smile.

“Of course not!” she said in a fervent whisper, squeezing her arm to bring her to a stop. “I have never met the man. Oh, Elizabeth, I do not mean to beleaguer you…” She let out a breathy huff. “I must confess, though, that there have been occasions when I have felt somewhat jealous of you and your earlier acquaintance with Mr. Darcy.”

“It was nothing, Rosalyn.” Elizabeth looked back to the stairs ahead of her as she began again to climb. She felt a tightening in her stomach as she repeated, “It was nothing.”

Upon reaching the top of the stairs, everyone was led down a hall and shown to their rooms. Their rooms were all situated closely, Elizabeth being in a room adjacent to Rosalyn, and Emily and her parents in separate rooms across the hall from them.

She followed the servant who carried her luggage into her chambers. Absent from Mr. Darcy she felt the freedom to sweep her eyes throughout the room, admiration filling her from everything she saw. She was in a corner room of the house, with large windows hugging each other where the walls met.

It was decorated with a slight feminine touch. Tiny flowers dotted the sheer window coverings and the thick coverlet on the bed. A sampler was hung prominently on one wall and a painting on another. A vase of fresh flowers displayed its array of colours atop a chest of drawers.

Stepping farther inside, she could almost imagine it being one of the finest rooms in the house; it was certainly finer than anything she had ever seen. When she took into consideration all she had seen of the house, however, she knew that there were most likely rooms of much greater consequence, particularly those of Mr. Darcy and his sister. This room was in all probability typical of what the others would be like.

The servant, having laid down her bags, bowed and stepped from the room. A maid then entered and walked over to a closet, opening the doors. When she disappeared within, Elizabeth could not stop herself from walking over and peeking inside. She almost bumped into the maid walking out.

“Is there any particular way you want me to unpack and put away your belongings, miss?” the maid asked.

“No,” answered Elizabeth, still gazing into the closet. Her mind went back to Rosings and how Mr. Collins commented on the astonishing shelves in the little closet. This closet had not only shelves but also beautifully stained wood drawers and was about as spacious inside as her room was back home.

Her stomach tightened as she considered home. What was her home now? It certainly was no longer Longbourn. She could not consider the Willstones’ home as hers. Her hand went up to her heart as the thought that this could have been hers pushed itself forward again.

“Is there anything not to your liking, Miss Bennet?” the maid asked as she looked over at her.

“No… no, it is more than suitable. Thank you.”

The maid smiled. “Have you seen the prospect outside your windows? I hope it is not too dark to see out now. Those two windows have the nicest views.”

Walking over to the two corner windows, Elizabeth pulled back one of the sheer window coverings and looked down at the lake in front. Even in the muted light of day, with the sun set beyond the horizon, it glistened. She could see the darkness of the dense trees in the woods beyond from which they came. She felt a flutter of excitement in the anticipation of walking through those woods.

She then peered out the other window. She looked out at what appeared to be a flower garden. “Is that a garden I see out this window?” she asked the maid.