Page 31 of Near Pemberley

The morning itself appeared singularly favourable. The heat of the preceding days had softened into a clearer freshness; the windows stood open upon lawns still touched with dew; and the distant hills, faint beneath the early sun, gave to the whole scene an uncommon tranquillity.

And beneath every wounded reflection remained one hope, stubborn and difficult to extinguish. Yet hope, once admitted, proved difficult to govern.

His thoughts returned to Lambton – to every word Elizabeth had spoken, every look, every alteration in her manner which memory could persuade him to examine. He recalled their conversation at the inn with a minuteness he would once have despised in another man and now practised upon himself without mercy.

Had she merely been civil? Or had there truly been something altered in her manner?

At moments, hope rose so strongly that he did not know how to suppress it. Then prudence – and memory – intervened.

She had refused him.

Nothing which had passed since then could entirely erase that fact. Nor did he wish to deceive himself again through vanity or impatience. If her opinion of him had indeed improved, it was enough – more than enough – to be received without displeasure where once he had been regarded with open resentment.

And yet…

One unguarded expression, one renewal of former presumption, might again render them both uncomfortable. He must not risk disturbing the ease which had so unexpectedly arisen between them.

Still, the possibility of seeing her again – of receiving her at Pemberley not merely with civility, but with something nearer ease – awakened hopes he barely trusted himself to examine too closely. If this visit passed well, perhaps their acquaintance need not end at Lambton.

He dared not pursue the thought further.

By the time he re-entered the house, breakfast had already begun. Georgiana sat near the window, arranging flowers with an earnest attention which suggested the occupation had been assigned greater importance than flowers generally deserved.

“You are early this morning, brother,” she said, smiling.

“So are you.”

Georgiana glanced down at the table before her. “I thought perhaps the blue room might look prettier if fresh flowers were placed there.”

Darcy paused slightly.

“The blue room?”

“Yes. Mrs. Reynolds thought Mrs. Gardiner would prefer it.” She hesitated a moment. “And I wondered whether Miss Bennet might like roses better than lilies. The lilies seemed too formal.”

Something in the anxious sincerity of the remark affected him unexpectedly. “I believe,” he said gently, “Miss Bennet would admire whatever was chosen with kindness.”

Georgiana coloured with pleasure.

Before more could be said, Bingley entered with his usual cheerful rapidity, followed more slowly by Mr. Hurst, whose appearance suggested that no anticipation of guests could entirely compensate for the hour at which breakfast occurred.

“Well, Darcy,” cried Bingley, “I declare your household has risen today with military precision. Mrs. Reynolds looked at me half an hour ago as though the fate of England depended upon the rug I stepped upon.”

Darcy almost smiled. “Pemberley survives such dangers yearly.”

“Perhaps. But never before under such interesting circumstances.”

Miss Bingley entered at that moment with Mrs. Hurst upon her arm.

“Pray do not begin discussing your interesting circumstances before I have coffee,” said she languidly. “I find country suspense excessively fatiguing.”

Darcy drew out Georgiana’s chair before seating himself opposite her.

Conversation during the first part of breakfast remained general, but as the expected visit could not long remain unmentioned, Bingley soon returned to it eagerly.

“I still cannot forgive you for meeting Miss Elizabeth yesterday without summoning me,” said he. “Had our situations been reversed, I should have sent for you. After all, you did dance with her, and that, my friend, is an achievement not many can boast.”

Darcy’s expression altered slightly, though he was too entirely occupied by other thoughts for Caroline’s or Bingley’s insinuation to produce its usual effect.