Page 32 of Mr. Darcy's Runaway Bride
A soft knock broke her reverie. “Come in,” she called, expecting Sarah.
It was Darcy. He had changed into a fresh coat and waistcoat.
“I trust the rooms are acceptable?”
“They are far beyond anything I imagined.”
He gave a nod, satisfied. “They were my mother’s. They have stood unused for ten years.”
“Mrs Reynolds told me. I hope it does not pain you to see them occupied again.”
“Not at all,” he said quietly. “It pleases me to see them alive again.”
There was something in his tone that held her still—something raw and unspoken.
He cleared his throat. “Would you prefer a tour first, or shall we dine quietly together?”
“I confess I am rather tired. A quiet supper would be lovely. I should like to explore Pemberley tomorrow, if I may.”
“Of course. Shall we say seven?”
“That would suit, thank you. And thank you—for your patience, these past days.”
He smiled faintly. “There is nothing to thank. I hope Pemberley will be as much a sanctuary for you as it has been for me.”
After he left, Sarah arrived to help her dress. As the girl washed and styled her hair, Elizabeth’s thoughts lingered on Darcy’s words.
A sanctuary.That was what this place felt like already—a refuge. Whether it would prove so for her heart remained uncertain.
***
When she met Darcy in the small dining room, she was struck once more by how naturally he fit into these refined surroundings. Pemberley suited him as a second skin.
Their conversation flowed more easily than she had expected, freed from the confinement of the carriage. Darcy spoke of estate matters, and she was quickly drawn in.
“You understand these things better than I anticipated,” he said as they lingered over a dish of stewed pears.
“My father was inattentive in many things,” Elizabeth replied, “but not in stewardship. Longbourn may be modest, but it still requires care.”
“Indeed. The principles apply at any scale. And Pemberley’s size brings no shortage of headaches. I should like to show you the estate tomorrow.”
“I would like that very much.”
“And perhaps the library. I suspect it may tempt your affections.”
“Oh, undoubtedly.”
After dinner, he offered his arm to escort her to her chambers. Their steps echoed gently along the marble hall.
“The east gallery connects directly to your rooms,” Darcy said, guiding her towards a different passage than she expected. “I thought you might wish to see it, even briefly. The moonlight through the windows creates quite an effect.”
Elizabeth followed, curious. The gallery stretched before them, lined with paintings on one side and tall windows on the other. True to his word, silver moonlight spilled across the polished floor.
“Oh,” she breathed, stepping forward. The gallery seemed to float between earth and sky, suspended in the night. “How beautiful.”
“It was my favourite place as a child,” Darcy said quietly. “I would slip from my bed and wander here when sleep would not come.”
Elizabeth glanced at him, struck by this small confession of boyhood rebellion. “I can see why. It feels like another world entirely.”
