Page 203 of What Change Entails

Darcy reached Pemberley in rain.

It had begun as a few scattered drops along the eastern wood and strengthened during the final mile, tapping steadily against the carriage roof and streaking the glass with rain. The roads, churned to mud by the weather, forced the carriage onward at a miserable pace, and each mile seemed to take twice as long as the last. By the time they turned into the stable yard, the stones gleamed beneath the lanterns, slick from the downpour. The lamps in the windows burned gold through the wet dusk.

He had never known the house to look more welcome.

For the space of a breath, before the groom came running and the side door opened, Darcy permitted himself the foolish expectation that he would enter and find everything as he had imagined it on the road.

Elizabeth in the drawing room.

Georgiana and Miss Lydia conspiring over some absurdity.

Bingley restless by the fire.

Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner in their accustomed places.

A normal evening.

A full house.

He swung down before the groom could reach him.

“Mr. Darcy, sir!” the man exclaimed, taking the reins. “We did not expect you tonight.”

“No,” Darcy said, removing his gloves as he crossed the yard. “Nor did I this morning.”

The footman at the side door bowed and stepped back. Darcy entered with rain still clinging to his coat and the road upon his boots. He handed over his hat, already listening for voices.

“Is the family in the drawing room?”

The footman hesitated.

It was no more than a fraction of a moment, but Darcy’s hand stilled upon the glove he was pulling free.

“Sir,” the man answered, “Miss Darcy is there. Mr. Bingley and the Hursts, as well.”

Darcy’s fingers closed around the gloves.

“And Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner?”

The footman looked regretful. “They departed this afternoon, sir.”

“Departed?”

“Yes, sir. An express arrived from London.”

The rain struck the windows behind him with sudden force.

Darcy did not ask the next question. There was no need. The answer had already passed through him, cold and unmistakable.

Still, the words had to be spoken.

“Miss Bennet went with them?”

“Yes, sir.”

For one absurd instant, the whole length of road he had just crossed seemed to stand behind him in accusation. He had spent the day trapped in a carriage, delayed by mud and rain, refusing every opportunity to stop for longer than necessary. He had laughed at geese in a lane because Elizabeth would have laughed at him, and he had hurried home because one night away from her had already proved too long.

He had still come too late.