Darcy and Elizabeth- Lost in Love Read online

  DARCY AND ELIZABETH

  LOST IN LOVE

  A Pride and Prejudice Short Story

  Mary Lydon Simonsen

  Quail Creek Publishing, LLC

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  Cover Image: Gertrude Jekyll (1843-1932) – “The Terrace – Brockenhurst House” – 1904 - This image was uploaded from WikiCommons. This media file is in the public domain in the Unites States. This applies to U.S. works where the copyright has expired, often because its first publication occurred prior to January 1, 1923.

  Darcy and Elizabeth

  Lost in Love

  A Pride and Prejudice Short Story

  The time fixed for the beginning of their Northern tour was now fast approaching; and a fortnight only was wanting of it, when a letter arrived from Mrs. Gardiner, which at once delayed its commencement and curtailed its extent… According to the present plan, they were to go no farther northward than Derbyshire… Elizabeth was excessively disappointed; she had set her heart on seeing the Lakes… But it was her business to be satisfied—and certainly her temper to be happy; and all was soon right again. – Pride and Prejudice

  Lulled by the rocking of the carriage, Lizzy closed her eyes and allowed the images of her holiday with her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner to settle in her mind. Having spent four glorious days near Dovedale viewing the splendors of the Peak, she found previous visits to the great country houses of Blenheim and Kenilworth paled in comparison to what Nature had placed on display with its rock formations, caves, ravines, and ridges. She found that she wished never to quit Derbyshire, but quit it she must as the carriage now moved south towards Lambton, and from there, on to Hertfordshire.

  “Elizabeth, as I am sure I have mentioned numerous times, I passed several years of my youth in Lambton,” Aunt Gardiner said as the village smithy came into view, followed in quick succession by a saddler’s shop, green grocer, milliner’s shop, and an old stone church, its gray walls relieved by the yellows and greens of the lichen and moss clinging to them.

  Knowing she was to be the beneficiary of another of Aunt Gardiner’s stories of her happy girlhood in Lambton, Lizzy smiled. Despite the glories of Matlock, Chatsworth, Bakewell, and the Peak, it was memories of her life in a country market town that fixed her aunt’s attention. Instead of the geological wonders of Mam Tor and Thor’s Cave, Aunt Gardiner spoke of Maypoles and harvest dances of her youth and her first flirtation with the son of the apothecary.

  “I do not think I was more than thirteen at the time,” she whispered so that a sleeping Mr. Gardiner would not awaken. “His name was Josiah, Old Testament names being much in fashion at the time. At the harvest dance, he presented me with glittering spars that he had found in a cave in the Peak. At the time, I prized the crystals as greatly as if they were diamonds!”

  Lizzy understood the reason for her aunt’s reminiscences. During her many years in London, Aunt Gardiner had maintained a correspondence with a friend, Mrs. Mills, from Lambton. In the midst of their travels, she had mentioned paying a call on her childhood companion, her recollections serving as a prelude to the hoped-for visit.

  “I insist that you call on Mrs. Mills,” Lizzy told her aunt. “Why would you not? And whilst you visit with your friend, Uncle Gardiner will find a stocked lake where the fish will practically leap into his creel.”

  When Uncle Gardiner did not rise to the bait, it proved that he really and truly was sound asleep as there was no other subject that guaranteed a response as the topic of angling.

  “And what, pray tell, will you do whilst your relations are otherwise engaged?”

  “I shall visit the shops, and if Lambton supports a circulating library, I shall wile away the hours with my nose in a good book. As you know, I am easily amused, Aunt. You should have no concern on my account.”

  Aunt Gardiner was pleased with Lizzy’s response but insisted that before such a plan was implemented that they must first visit Pemberley.

  “Pemberley!” Lizzy said with alarm. “Why would you wish to visit Pemberley?”

  Lizzy confessed to her aunt that in their travels she had viewed enough fine carpets, satin curtains, and pictures of people unknown to her to last a lifetime, but by making such a vociferous dissent, she realized that the lady doth protest too much, inviting a look from her aunt demanding an explanation.

  “We have only just come from Chatsworth!” Lizzy said, her voice elevated. “My goodness! Is there anything to compare to the grandeur of Chatsworth? I daresay a king and his court would be content there. And if Chatsworth did not work its magic on you, then what of Blenheim and Kenilworth?”

  “I agree there are few estates the equal of Chatsworth or Blenheim, and, yes, it is true that we have visited many grand houses on our travels north, but the owners of those magnificent estates were unknown to us. That is not the case with Pemberley.”

  Although Aunt Gardiner was perfectly sensible that her niece’s pride had been injured when Elizabeth had first encountered the Master of Pemberley at the Meryton assembly, she did not see the harm in visiting a house she had heard so much about.

  “If it were merely a fine house richly furnished, I should not care about it myself,” Aunt Gardiner continued, “but the grounds are delightful. Having formed an acquaintance with its master, are you not curious about the Darcys and Pemberley?”

  Lizzy had to admit that she was curious and inquired of her aunt if she had ever met the elder Mr. Darcy and Lady Anne Darcy.

  “Indeed, I saw them very nearly every Sunday in the summer when they were in residence as they faithfully attended the services at St. Michael’s. Of course, as the Lord of the Manor, Mr. Darcy and family had their own pew, setting them apart from the other congregants. Even so, after the service had ended, they were social and attentive to their neighbors.”

  Now Lizzy was interested and begged a description of Mr. Darcy’s parents. She was curious if the current master resembled his mother or father and if either could be held accountable for his mercurial temperament.

  “Such a discussion will have to wait as we are now at the inn.”

  After several attempts to arouse her husband had failed, Aunt Gardiner used her parasol as a prod to awaken her sleeping spouse.

  “It works every time,” she said as Uncle Gardiner’s eyes popped open.

  With the day waning, the description of Mr. Darcy’s parents would be delayed until dinner, and when the tale was finally told, it proved to be a thin soup.

  Aunt Gardiner described Lady Anne Darcy as a fair-haired beauty, who favored the lace and frills of an earlier generation, and who was exceptionally fond of large hats with lots of feathers. As for the elder Mr. Darcy, he was tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed, and known for his willingness to speak with his tenants and neighbors and his fairness in settling min
or disputes amongst Lambton’s citizenry. But at such a distance in time, she could say no more about Mr. Darcy’s parents.

  “And what about Mr. Darcy and Miss Darcy? Did you see them about the village?”

  “At the time I left Lambton, Miss Darcy was only about three years old—a tiny bit of blonde fluff enveloped in layers of finery. As for Mr. Darcy, he was a handsome lad—quite tall for his age. As to his character, the only intelligence I have on that subject is what you learned from Mr. Wickham regarding the settlement of the elder Darcy’s estate. But in forming opinions, we must be cautious as we have only the one side of the story.”

  At the mention of Mr. Wickham, Lizzy grew quiet and thought of the letter Mr. Darcy had given to her at Rosings Park. In it, he had taken great pains to explain the truth of his relationship with George Wickham. In sharing their troubled history, as well as Wickham’s scandalous behavior towards his sister, Mr. Darcy had risked much.

  Even though he understood that if news of Miss Darcy’s near elopement with Wickham became known, his sister’s reputation could still be tarnished, Mr. Darcy trusted me with that information.

  In recalling the disclosures in his letter, Lizzy felt a pinprick of regret at having so forcefully refused Mr. Darcy, just one of many since leaving Kent. Shaking her head to dislodge such an unpleasant thought, Lizzy agreed to visit Pemberley on the condition that the family was not at home.

  “We shall make inquiries at the inn as to whether the family is in residence,” her aunt said in a reassuring voice. “Unless things have changed since I left Lambton, I am sure the innkeeper will have news of the family as that is where local gossip is shared and savored as much as the meat pies.”

  At dinner, when the proprietor of The Bell was questioned, they were told that the family had not yet come down for the summer, and the innkeeper would know if they had as Mr. Darcy served as local magistrate. As there were a few minor complaints that needed to be addressed, Mr. Darcy would hear the parties in the great room of the inn. Even with confirmation that the family was not in residence, Lizzy was not yet satisfied and asked the chambermaid if the Darcy family was at Pemberley.

  “No, Miss.”

  “Are you absolutely sure?”

  “Yes, miss. When the family is at Pemberley, my younger sister works in the scullery. Mrs. Bradshaw, she being the cook, sends word to my father’s house because there’s ever so much to be done before the family arrives.”

  Thus satisfied that the Darcys remained in London, in the morning, in a complete reversal of her protests of the previous day, Lizzy declared that she would be pleased to visit Pemberley, a statement resulting in yet another curious look from Aunt Gardiner.

  * * *

  After applying to see the manor house, the three tourists were admitted to the great hall and were soon joined by an elderly woman who introduced herself as Mrs. Reynolds, the housekeeper. As Aunt and Uncle Gardiner and Elizabeth moved from dining room to drawing room to music room to upstairs gallery, Lizzy shared with her aunt and uncle her admiration of the handsome furniture and fine furnishings and silently complimented the master on his excellent taste and restraint.

  In addition to remarks concerning the fine portraits lining the walls of the gallery, the master of the house merited much comment. “I have always observed that they who are good-natured when children are good-natured when they grow up, and Mr. Darcy was always the sweetest tempered, most generous-hearted boy in the world.” High praise indeed! Elizabeth thought. But there was more. “There is not one of his tenants or servants but what will give him a good name.” His stellar character was also in evidence in the way he doted on Miss Darcy. “There is nothing he would not do if it would please his sister.”

  As Lizzy listened to the housekeeper’s hymn of praise for her master, she felt a sense of unease. Such laudatory comments were undermining her determination to never think well of Mr. Darcy.

  At the conclusion of the tour, Mrs. Reynolds introduced the party to Ferguson, the gardener. Once in the gardens, Lizzy freed her mind of all she had heard of Mr. Darcy from his admiring housekeeper. Instead, she listened intently as Ferguson described the vastness of the Pemberley estate, its stocked lake, fine streams, and excellent woodland paths and directed their attention to a massive chestnut that was at least one-hundred years old and pointed to the remnants of stairs and a platform where the Darcy children had once played.

  “Mr. Darcy always wanted to be a pirate, but Miss Darcy had other ideas. She was keen on his being a Knight of the Round Table so that he could rescue her from her castle,” Ferguson said, nodding with his chin in the direction of the wooden frame—all that remained of Georgiana Darcy’s imaginary fortification. “Master Darcy told her more than once that he would be a good and kind pirate, like Robin Hood, except on the high seas, that is. Even so, the lass would have none of it. She wanted her knight in shining armor.”

  “Did Mr. Darcy ever get to be a pirate?” Lizzy asked. With his dark hair and even darker eyes, he would have looked splendid as a buccaneer. In her mind, she moved his earring from one ear to the next before settling on the right and did the same with his sword.

  “When his cousins, the Fitzwilliams come to Pemberley, he did get to be a pirate, but the eldest, Antony Fitzwilliam, the one who inherited the earldom, he were always the captain and the younger children his mateys. He’d be ordering them about and calling ‘em his swabbies,” he said, smiling at the memory.

  Ferguson explained that he had been born at Pemberley when George II was in his last years on the throne. “I believe that makes me fifty-four or fifty-five, depending on which parent is to be believed. I tend to take my mother’s side as I know that she were there,” he said, chuckling, which, because of missing teeth, sounded very much like a whistle.

  Beneath the shade of the chestnut, Ferguson waxed eloquent on the beauties of Pemberley’s flower gardens, his pride in his accomplishments clearly on display. Gazing at the visual feast, Lizzy stated that she wished she could stay longer.

  “Then you should stay,” Aunt Gardiner said. “If Mr. Ferguson has no objection, it may be possible for you to remain in the gardens whilst I visit with Mrs. Mills in Lambton and Uncle Gardiner makes inquiries as to the best fishing spots at the public house in the village,” she said with a knowing smile. After such a long day touring the estate, her husband would wish to quench his thirst.

  Mr. Ferguson stated that the gardens were open until dusk to all those who had been admitted to the house and mentioned that such a request was not out of the ordinary.

  “It would be at least three hours before we could return,” Aunt Gardiner said. “Is that too long?”

  “Oh, no! If anything, three hours is insufficient. In addition to the gardens, there is a folly on the hill that I would like to visit.”

  “There is also a maze, miss,” Ferguson said. “A bit overgrown at the moment, but still worth exploring. You’ll find it behind the conservatory.”

  “Then it is settled.” Turning to her husband, Aunt Gardiner asked that he give Elizabeth his pocketwatch. “The clock at The Bell will be our guide, and we shall meet you at the entrance to the manor house in about three hours.”

  * * *

  After hearing Mrs. Reynolds’s paean to his master and Ferguson’s revelation of Mr. Darcy as an amiable pirate, points of view that challenged her own, as a way of settling her mind, Lizzy walked the woodland paths that would take her to the Greek folly at the estate’s high point. As she walked beneath the leafy canopy, she tried to reconcile the Mr. Darcy she had met at the Meryton assembly with the benevolent and beloved Master of Pemberley. Upon reflection, she realized that there had been several hints of a very different Mr. Darcy from the arrogant man who had proposed to her in Kent.

  First, there was his friendship with Mr. Bingley, a man whose fortune had been made in trade. By befriending Charles Bingley, Mr. Darcy had displayed an independence of character that was commendable for a man of his station. In fact, he val
ued Charles’s friendship so much that he tolerated his awful sisters. His quiet attention to his cousin, Anne de Bourgh, was laudable, as were his yearly visits to Kent to pay homage to Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

  Even Mr. Darcy must find the grand dame of Rosings to be a trial, Elizabeth thought, and yet he visits her.

  However, those examples represented the dutiful side of Mr. Darcy, behavior inculcated in him by his parents and tutors and demanded by the society in which he moved. She now knew there was a softer side to the Master of Pemberley. She smiled as she remembered the playful exchanges between Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam during her time at Rosings. And then there was the time during a walk in the park when she had witnessed Mr. Darcy talking to his horse. Not willing to risk discovery, she had kept her distance as he shared his opinions with his stallion. Nevertheless, she was quite sure she had heard him say something about “the difficulty of comprehending a woman’s mind.”

  But all those examples paled in comparison to Mr. Darcy’s treatment of Mr. Wickham. Despite his dislike for the offspring of Pemberley’s steward, Fitzwilliam Darcy had executed his father’s bequests promptly and in full compliance with the elder Darcy’s wishes, his honesty contrasting greatly with George Wickham’s betrayal. Lizzy could only imagine the pain Mr. Darcy had suffered when he learned that this ungrateful man had attempted to lure his fifteen-year-old sister into a hurried marriage—a union that would have led to a lifetime of regret.

  Lastly, there was the Mr. Darcy who had proposed marriage to her at Hunsford Parsonage. Although he felt it necessary to list the disadvantages of such a match, his love for her was so great that he was willing to set aside his own objections and to face the criticism of friends and family. Now that she had seen Pemberley, she better understood his harsh words. His proposal was much more than an offer of marriage. He was asking her to be Mistress of Pemberley with all its privileges, but also with a great deal of responsibility. In choosing a wife, there was so much at stake.