Kara Louise - Only Mr. Darcy Will Do

At one point, the subject turned to the Darcys. They were very much in awe that Elizabeth was a guest at Pemberley.

“Well, not quite a guest,” she corrected them. “The family I work for as governess was invited by Mr. Darcy. It has just been fortunate that I was included.”

“Oh, yes!” praised Mrs. Ketterling. “But such courtesy he extended to you today!” She turned to the others. “He escorted Miss Bennet out when we arrived and ensured her prodigious care.”

“Not something just any master would do!” exclaimed one of the guests. “He is certainly exceptional!”

Elizabeth was tempted to inform them that they had once been acquainted, but decided against it, for she did not wish to incite any questions. She listened with interest as they began to tell stories of Mr. Darcy, his late father, and Pemberley.

There was one, in particular, that captured her notice.

“You remember the Danville picnic?”

Everyone chuckled. “Poor, young Mr. Darcy. He must have been in his early twenties, was he not?”

“Yes, we all felt sorry for the young man.”

“Why did you feel sorry for him?” asked Elizabeth.

They began to relate the tale, everyone contributing what they recollected.

She was told that the Danvilles had a very nice estate about ten miles away. The young Mr. Darcy was recently home from school, and he and his father and sister had been invited to the picnic. It was quite a lavish affair and the Danvilles had to hire a great deal of extra help. Several people from Lambton were hired for the occasion, a few who were dining with her that very evening.

“This was one of the first gatherings that the young Mr. Darcy attended since returning from Oxford,” one of the ladies, Mrs. Stanfield, said. “He had left a young man of medium stature, rather scrawny and shy, and returned a tall, muscular, handsome young man. He turned many a lady’s head, he did.”

Another added, “His father, who had begun at that time to tire easily, had gone to sit with his friends, while his son held Miss Darcy’s hand to take her over to some children’s games and amusements that were taking place. She could have been no more than ten years old. As he walked through the crowd, the heads were turning and the tongues were wagging about how much he was worth, how well he looked, and what a privilege it would be to be Mistress of Pemberley!”

Mrs. Ketterling looked at Elizabeth and exclaimed, “The poor young man looked as though he wanted to be anywhere but there!”

Mrs. Stanfield continued, “Before long, he found himself surrounded by an array of very fashionably dressed ladies who were doing all they could to garner his attention and seek an introduction. It was actually quite comical to see what antics these ladies would do to ensure his notice. They made fools of themselves before his very eyes.”

Mrs. Ketterling finished the story. “But that was not the worst of it! In the midst of all this shameless self-promotion, Miss Darcy slipped from his fingers. He could not pull himself away quickly enough, but when he did, she was nowhere in sight!

“Disappeared right from his side! The young Mr. Darcy looked amongst the children playing a game of tag nearby, but she was not there. He grew quite frantic, wondering where she went. He looked about him in every direction calling her name.

“Eventually, she was found hiding in some bushes. She had been too shy to join in the children’s activities on her own and had become fearful in the midst of the overbearing ladies.

“It has been a story widely circulated in Lambton that most likely he very much abhorred being the centre of attention because of that incident. And that he has always prodigiously watched out for his young sister.”

After hearing that story, Elizabeth thought back to her first impressions of him. At the Meryton Assembly, he stood off to the side, either by a window or door, or by the fireplace. She thought with regret how tongues were wagging that night about his worth. All she saw was a man who wanted to be anywhere but there. Now she knew why!

After dinner, they gathered in the small sitting room for games. It seemed to Elizabeth that most everyone had plans to spend a good part of the evening there.

It was close to nine o’clock when the sound of rain could be heard. Everyone quickly finished the games they were playing and readied themselves to take their leave. They all expressed great appreciation in getting to know Mrs. Gardiner’s niece, and hoped to see her again soon.

Once all the guests had departed, Mr. Ketterling said, “It is best we go before the roads are too muddied.” They donned their coats and set out for the carriage.

Despite the rain, it was mild outside. Often the summer rains came through briefly, cooling the air only slightly. Elizabeth hoped that by morning the skies would be clear and the air freshened in the way that only a rain can do.

The ride back to Pemberley took longer than the one to Lambton. Elizabeth could readily perceive that the road was getting muddier as the carriage dipped and rocked. She hoped the Ketterlings would be all right on their journey home.

When at last they pulled up in front of Pemberley, there was only a slight mist coming down. The coachman jumped down off the front and opened the door, as a servant from Pemberley came out to escort Elizabeth into the house.

“Thank you so very much,” Elizabeth said as she took their hands in hers, giving them a gentle squeeze. “I truly enjoyed myself, your hospitality, your friends, and hearing all those stories about my aunt.”

“It was our pleasure,” replied Mrs. Ketterling. “If you have the opportunity to come again before you leave, or if you need anything, our home is open. You are always welcome.”

“Thank you. And do not forget Mr. Darcy’s invitation, as well.” She stepped out of the carriage and turned back to them. “Good night.” Elizabeth then hurried into the house.

As she entered, she heard sounds of laughter coming from the direction of the drawing room. Mrs. Reynolds approached her, clasping her hands together. “Good! You have returned. Did you have an enjoyable day, Miss Bennet?”

“Yes, I did, thank you.”

“Do you wish to join the others in the drawing room?”

Elizabeth pondered that for a moment. “I… perhaps I ought to go check on Emily, and then I shall return to my room.”

“Yes, ma’am,” nodded Mrs. Reynolds. “I shall inform Mr. Darcy that you have returned.”

“There is no need for that,” Elizabeth protested with a warm laugh.

“Oh, but there is. As soon as it began to rain, he asked to be notified when you returned.”

Mrs. Reynolds curtseyed and walked away, leaving Elizabeth to wonder whether he wished to be notified because she was merely his guest or because he was concerned about her. Her heart beat loudly as she took the stairs up to her room, feeling a greater admiration for the man—whether he wished her to or not.

Elizabeth was awakened in the night by the sound of a hard, driving rain lashing against the window pane. With a sigh of resignation, she realized her hopes for a sunny, rain-freshened morning were doubtful. She curled up underneath the blankets, pulling them up over her shoulders, grateful for the warm and dry sanctuary that Pemberley offered.

A flash of lightning lit the room, followed a few seconds later by a deep rumbling. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, reaching for her robe. She knew that Emily would likely be awakened by the thunder, and she would be ready to go to her if her parents did not.

She walked over to her window and peered out, unable to distinguish anything, even when the flashes of light lit the sky. The rain was so fierce; it ran down the window in torrents. Another boom, this time louder, shook the room. Elizabeth knew immediately that she would soon hear Emily call for her, so she walked across the hall to her room, taking a quilted coverlet with her.

She opened Emily’s door quietly and stepped in. She did not hear the girl stirring, so she tiptoed over to a chair and sat down, draping the coverlet over her. She leant her head back and closed her eyes. With the next flash of light and deafening thunder, Emily awakened and let out a whimper.

Elizabeth immediately rose from the chair and walked over to the bed. She stroked the little girl’s head. “I am here, Emily. There is nothing to fear.”

“Why does it have to be so loud?” she asked as she buried her head against Elizabeth.

“It must be fairly close,” Elizabeth said soothingly. “But remember, the thunder cannot hurt you.”

“Gladys told me it is so loud because God is angry,” she said fretfully.

Elizabeth chuckled. “Perhaps not angry,” she assured her. “He is just reminding us how powerful He is. If the thunder were only a whimpering rumble, we would not think Him powerful at all.”

“Is it good that He is powerful?” Emily asked.

“Oh, yes,” answered Elizabeth. “For then we know He can answer our prayers.”

“Does He answer all our prayers?”

Elizabeth thought back to Rosalyn asking Elizabeth to pray for success in her scheme to attract Mr. Darcy’s attention. Shaking her head, she said, “If He does not think it best for us, He will not. We have to trust Him for His answer, whether it is what we want or not.” She knew that perhaps any prayer she prayed seeking Mr. Darcy’s affection may not be answered as she desired as well.

She stayed with the young girl for the remainder the night, falling asleep on the edge of her bed as the thunder and lightning gradually diminished. The rain, however, kept up its steady deluge.