Elizabeth Bennet roamed the woods near Brambling Hall and came out upon the road that led to Pemberley. Although her sister had married Charles Bingley, a close friend of the master of Pemberley, she had never been a guest inside the great home. She wished and hoped to become one before long, as Charles Bingley had purchased Brambling Hall on Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy’s recommendation.
Mr. Darcy was now a shadow of the man she had met at Netherfield all those months ago. His mother had taken to her rooms after the family’s great loss and Mr. Darcy appeared haggard from the constant travel from Pemberley to London and back again.
Before the death of his sister, Georgiana Darcy, Elizabeth found him to be a proud, reserved man, but he had walked with her once in the garden at Longbourn and asked her to dance during a party at Lucas Lodge. After several misunderstandings facilitated by her pride and his prejudice, Elizabeth admitted to herself here was a man she might find her equal in wit and intellect.
But he left Hertfordshire weeks after her sister Jane had married Charles Bingley due to the untimely demise of his dear sister. Elizabeth had not seen him since, only his profile in a carriage or what she assumed to be him upon horseback riding as though the devil was behind him over the fields of Pemberley.
She paused at the rise of a hill overlooking the great house and sighed. When first they met Mr. Darcy, her mother had made a fuss over his ten thousand only to abuse him later for his proud manner, but Elizabeth could not have imagined the jewel that sat before her now. The house gleamed richly in the sun and the lake before it enchanted her.
Brambling Hall was divine, and her room there took her breath. Still, the whole of the house with all its splendor could not match Pemberley from without and she imagined certainly not from within.
She wore a mischievous smile and set her feet toward Pemberley. It was unlikely Mr. Darcy was home, for Jane told her the day before during tea he was in London. She was certain his whereabouts was the reason Caroline Bingley had given to refuse a visit to Brambling Hall.
Elizabeth was pleased to know Miss Bingley preferred London to the countryside and hoped it would always remain so. With the woman’s vehement dislike of the Bennet sisters, Elizabeth doubted she would visit more than once or twice a year.
Her life at Brambling Hall provided her with all she required, between the library and the varied woods and hills for her daily exploration.
Elizabeth’s mind wondered at the Lady Anne Darcy closed away in such a fine prison. Ghosts of her daughter must appear in every shadow of the evening, in the empty chair at the dining table, in the cup missing during tea.
Elizabeth could not imagine the sadness and quiet that must pervade the woman’s rooms. At her home in Hertfordshire, there was never a quiet moment, never an empty seat. Tragedy was unknown to her at the age of not quite twenty and one.
The surface of the lake before the house glittered in the late afternoon sun and Elizabeth wandered to its edge. She lifted her skirt, longing to cool her feet in the shallow water’s edge. Glancing about and finding no sign of life, she bent to remove her shoes.
The water was warm and the bottom of the lake as smooth as the surface. Lifting her skirts higher, she splashed the water with much satisfaction moving farther from the bank.
She spun round, happy and carefree with a view of the great house meeting her at each graceful turn. Elizabeth stopped to regain her balance, her head spinning. One step and her foot became tangled in an unseen snag.
Elizabeth threw her arms out to steady herself but the motion pitched her to her side. She landed with a great splash, gasping and clutching at the water.
Though the day was warm, the water was cooler in the deeper reaches and it took her breath and weighted her skirts in moments.
She sat shocked at her present state of being, mortified that she must return to Brambling Hall as a wayward child, her skirts sodden and soaked to her skin.
She attempted to free herself from her watery seat; her face coloring as she struggled with her now heavy skirts. The shadow of the great house moved across the lake and she cursed her own folly. Thoughts of her failure to learn to ride came unbidden to her mind. A horse would be a welcome companion in her current predicament.
As Elizabeth struggled to escape the lake, a figure moved with haste and purpose inside Pemberley. Lady Anne shouted for help and no less than three maids and a footman came running with the butler. “There is a young lady in our lake! We must see that she is safely removed!”
Lady Anne shouted her warning and kept pace with the butler. He flung open the front door, aghast at the sight before him. There was indeed a young woman in the lake determined to crawl on her hands and knees to escape the chill waters.
Lady Anne hurried behind her footman as the man dashed to Elizabeth’s aid. The butler caught Lady Anne up and stopped her before she entered the lake herself. “My Ladyship, you must not!”
Lady Anne turned to him, her face gone pale with worry.
Elizabeth was mortified as the footman fished her from the lake and helped her stand on the bank alongside Lady Anne and the butler. The maids had stopped at the door, their number growing as word spread throughout the great house of their visitor.
Lady Anne rushed to Elizabeth’s side. “My dear, are you well? How have you come to such calamity?”
Elizabeth gazed upon the lady’s face with awe and not a little shame. Her body shook from the chill of the water but her face remained a bright crimson.
Lady Anne took Elizabeth’s arm and led her past the curious butler and footman. “Come, dear. We must see to your clothing. I cannot abide for a young lady to come to harm at Pemberley.”
Elizabeth nodded and bit her bottom lip to stop the tears that threatened. She was grateful Mr. Darcy was absent, for she was sure he would find her behavior most outrageous. His mother appeared not the least surprised at her trespassing and resulting quandary.
Elizabeth stopped to wring out her skirts before entering the grand house but Lady Anne urged her forward. “Have not a care. The maids shall draw a hot bath. I will await your return in the parlor.”
Lady Anne had her own maid take Elizabeth upstairs to the bedroom adorned with rose paper that reminded her of Elizabeth’s complexion. “See she is bathed and dressed in good order, Wells. You may search my closet for a lovely gown for the young lady.”
Elizabeth smiled at the graceful woman before her and murmured her thanks. She lowered her lashes in a bout of uncustomary shyness. The Lady Anne was a most handsome woman and Elizabeth imagined Georgiana must have been as lovely as her mother.
Elizabeth hoped Mr. Darcy would not be given the news of her unsettling adventure, for she was certain there had never been a young woman found floundering in their lake. She vowed to keep to the grounds of Brambling Hall in future excursions.
The maid led her up the stairs and Elizabeth admired the great paintings they passed in the hallway. A young lady, with hair the color of Jane’s, smiled down at her and Elizabeth was certain it must be Georgiana. The next was a lovely portrait of Mr. Darcy and Lady Anne with the girl in the first painting and an older gentleman who must have been George Darcy.
The love of the family in the portrait shone through the brush strokes and Elizabeth clutched at her heart as she hurried behind the maid. Mr. Darcy had been happy once, as had his mother. She ached for their losses. A sharp pain took her breath as she recalled the whispered rumors. Jane was certain Miss Darcy had met a terrible end. It was thought to be too much laudanum.
The maid cleared her throat as she stopped before a door along the hallway. “This is the room her ladyship recommended, miss.”
Elizabeth entered the room, her eyes wandering from the lovely ornamental design of the fireplace mantel to the exquisite pale yellow silk that adorned the bed and then the soft blush rose pattern of the paper on the walls.
Wells opened an adjoining door and two maids from below stairs were pouring steaming water into the bath. Elizabeth went to stand by the fireplace as Wells approached her. “Shall I help you, miss?”
Elizabeth nodded and allowed the maid to help her undress. She gave Elizabeth a sheet and sent her ruined clothing downstairs with one of the younger maids. “I shall do as her ladyship bids and return with a gown from her closet. Betsy, here, will see to your bath.”
Wells left and Betsy beckoned Elizabeth forward. “Come miss, we cannot have you shivering as you are. Her ladyship would be most displeased to find you standing round in only a sheet.”
Elizabeth smiled at Betsy and stuck a toe into the gloriously warm water. Her favorite scent, lavender, greeted her as she sunk gratefully into the water. If heaven were on earth, Pemberley was certainly as close as she had come.