A Lady’s Choice Read online

  Tears sprang up in her eyes as the shame of her actions washed over her, but she could not bring herself to truly believe that it had all been a lie. Mr. Darcy was not Mr. Wickham, and he would do the honorable thing and propose himself to her again. He would ask her father’s permission... they would be married in a church, and not in a small Scottish town were any passerby might act as witness and clergy! Oh!

  Elizabeth scrambled out of bed and reached for her robe, pulling it tightly around her shoulders and pouring herself a glass of water from the pitcher that stood on the small table.

  A white flower with waxen petals lay on the wood, and Elizabeth shuddered deliciously as the memory of the trail that blossom had made over her skin ignited her mind once more. A folded piece of parchment lay beneath it, and she opened it with shaking fingers.

  * * *

  My dearest, dearest Elizabeth,

  Forgive me for not staying, but your sister has been discovered at the Milk and Thistle Inn. Mr. Gardiner and I, with the assistance of my colleague Mr. Redstone will see to her marriage to Mr. Wickham. Rest assured that no scandal will fall upon your family, and you may return to Longbourn satisfied that all will be well. Mr. Gardiner will stay here with me to make the arrangements, and a carriage will call for you this afternoon to bear you to London, and thence to Hertfordshire.

  Yours ever,

  ~Fw. D

  * * *

  “No scandal will fall upon your family? But whatever does that mean?” Elizabeth spoke the words aloud, not knowing the answer. Is Lydia to be married before us all? Oh, how that would please her younger sister. And so, it was as she had feared. She must return to Longbourn with the news of Lydia’s marriage, and Mr. Darcy’s intervention, and without any proposal or closure of her own.

  Elizabeth wiped the tears from her cheeks and washed with cold water from the pitcher, relishing the chill liquid that ran over her skin. She would wash her love for Mr. Darcy from her skin, and all would be as it had been before. She would never speak of what had happened, and she would never think of it ever again. To anyone.

  But he had called her dearest in his letter. Dearest. He had said that he loved her... but perhaps that had been a part of her dream.

  Elizabeth dressed for travel, and packed her small valise. It would be good to return home to Longbourn, especially now that she bore happy news. The happiest news they could have hoped for under the circumstances.

  Elizabeth kept Mr. Darcy’s letter close by as the carriage rolled down the cobbled streets of Gretna Green, and thence towards London and home. Perhaps she would be able to forget. Her fingers traced the lines of his penmanship, the way he had made the loops of the letter ‘E’ and the confident lines of his signature... she sighed and looked out the window at the passing trees. The way he had said, “I love you.”

  Epilogue

  “Jane! Lizzy! There is someone at the door to see you! A Mr. Bingley and a Mr. Darcy!” Kitty’s voice was almost a shriek of excitement, and Elizabeth stood up in shock, her eyes wide as she looked for Jane, who wore a similar expression of surprise and an almost mute horror. Elizabeth’s cheeks flamed. Against her own promises she had indeed thought of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy several times over the passing weeks since she had left Gretna Green, perhaps more than she wanted to admit... but she had made many mistakes since then.

  “Whatever could they want, Lizzy?” Jane looked out the window, and Elizabeth saw a faint blush color her cheeks as she spied the gentlemen below. Whatever, indeed?

  “Hurry, Jane, before Mama decides to invite them in for tea, or chases them away with her polite conversation.” Jane smoothed her hair, and Elizabeth envied her sister’s innocent fluster at the thought of seeing Mr. Bingley again after so much time had passed... her own whirling thoughts were anything but innocent, and the twinge of regret that tugged at her heart threatened to topple the strongest supports of her resolve.

  Jane grabbed her hand, squeezing tightly, before rushing out into the hall and down the stairs to greet their guests. Elizabeth followed at a slower pace, as though the anticipation of something greater than expected awaited them... but she could not guess what it could be.

  Mr. Bingley’s eagerly smiling face was the first thing she saw, but it was the sight of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, a single flower with rounded white petals held lightly in his long fingers, that brought a genuine smile to her face. Perhaps everything would be well, after all.

  * * *

  The End

  3

  Mr. Darcy’s Daring Bride

  At Pemberley Stables

  “Now, Lizzy, if I had told you where we were visiting, you might have argued. I thought this would be a pleasant surprise…” Mrs. Gardiner frowned slightly at her niece and Elizabeth Bennet sat back against the carriage seat and tried to smile.

  “I am sorry, Aunt, I was, indeed, surprised.” Surprised was a mild term for how she was feeling. Shocked would be more accurate. Stunned, perhaps.

  “I have been assured that there is no one at home, Lizzy. I have written to the housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds, and she has assured me that we will be welcome for a tour of the estate.” Mrs. Gardiner’s smile was meant to be reassuring, but Elizabeth did not feel reassured. Mrs. Gardiner reached out and took her niece’s hand. “Do not be cross with me, Lizzy.”

  “I am not,” Elizabeth replied honestly. “Truly.” Elizabeth was curious, and as the carriage rolled down the long drive, she found herself intrigued by the estate of the man she had come to believe was the most disagreeable gentleman of her acquaintance.

  What could be behind a man like Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. A man so full of his own importance and—

  “Lizzy, look!” Mrs. Gardiner’s quietly joyful exclamation interrupted Elizabeth’s thoughts and she was forced to turn in the carriage seat to follow her aunt’s gaze.

  The estate rose gracefully out of the gently rolling hills and Elizabeth bit back a gasp of surprise at the delicacy of the construction and appointment on the landscape. So many of the grand estates they had seen in their travels seemed to have been forced upon the landscape, but it was obvious even to Elizabeth’s eyes that Pemberley had been designed and built with the topography in mind.

  A thoughtful piece of architecture, to be sure.

  “I’ve been told that this estate was built by Mr. Darcy’s grandfather as a wedding gift,” Mrs. Gardiner said, but Elizabeth was barely listening. She was looking at the glistening lake and the rushing stream that wound through the estate.

  “A very lucky bride,” Elizabeth murmured.

  “Indeed,” Mrs. Gardiner agreed and Elizabeth smiled as she noticed her aunt elbow her husband slightly. Mr. Gardiner chuckled warmly and patted his wife’s hand.

  “Would you like an estate in the country, Mrs. Gardiner?” he asked gamely.

  “Oh, Mr. Gardiner, I would not ask you to go away from London,” Elizabeth’s aunt replied. “You would long for the busy streets and company of our friends.”

  Mr. Gardiner raised an eyebrow and gestured at the grand house. “I believe that for an estate such as this, Mrs. Gardiner, I could give up a great many things.”

  As the carriage approached the front of the house, Elizabeth’s worry that they would be intruding, or that they would find the house occupied, plagued her mind. “Are you very sure—” she began, but her words were cut off as the carriage lurched to a halt.

  The front doors of the house were open, and Elizabeth did her best not to gasp at their size—a carriage with two horses leading it could have trotted through with no trouble.

  A woman with iron grey hair pulled up under a starched cap appeared in the doorway. Her smile was welcoming as she directed a footman towards their carriage.

  The young man welcomed them warmly as he opened the carriage door and extended a hand to assist Mrs. Gardiner to step down onto the carefully raked gravel of the courtyard.

  “Mrs. Gardiner, you are most welcome!” the woman exclaimed as she came out to meet them.

/>   “Mrs. Reynolds,” Elizabeth’s aunt replied. “I thank you for agreeing to see us on such short notice. I had hoped to make this visit a surprise for my niece.”

  As her aunt made introductions, Elizabeth stepped down from the carriage and smiled awkwardly at the footman who had helped her down, but the young man was already rushing back towards the house and had not waited for her thanks.

  “Lizzy,” Mrs. Gardiner gestured to her and Elizabeth put a smile on her face as she approached. “Mrs. Reynolds has offered us luncheon and a tour of the house, is that not wonderful?”

  Elizabeth looked at the woman in surprise, but Mrs. Reynolds smiled warmly. “Wonderful,” Elizabeth murmured in response, for there was nothing else she could say.

  Their small party followed Mrs. Reynolds into the house and Elizabeth did her best to bite her lip against the gasp of surprise that threatened to burst from her lips.

  Pemberley was beautiful. The foyer, the grand entrance hall, everything about it was delicate woodwork, sweeping staircases, and graceful lines. Like Rosings Park this building was meant to be grand, but unlike the estate that housed Mr. Darcy’s aunt, Pemberley had also been built to be a home. Elizabeth imagined that Rosings Park’s nursery was located in the top floor, far away from everything else happening in the house. But Pemberley was different. Pemberley was different, and she imagined that the mistress of Pemberley would have been closely involved in the upbringing of her children.

  “Lizzy,” Mrs. Gardiner touched her shoulder lightly, “is everything all right?”

  “Oh, yes,” Elizabeth said quickly as they entered what could only have been a music room. A beautiful pianoforte stood in the centre of the room and Elizabeth ran her hand along the smoothly polished surface.

  “This,” Mrs. Reynolds gestured towards the instrument, “was a gift for my dear mistress from her brother for her most recent birthday. She is away in Ramsgate, but will return this evening.” Elizabeth lifted her hand from the wood and clutched at the fabric of her skirt as though her touch had made the instrument dirty.

  “Does she play?” Mrs. Gardiner asked.

  “Oh, yes,” Mrs. Reynolds said with a proud smile. “She is the most accomplished young lady of my acquaintance. She turned her attention to Elizabeth and smiled warmly. “Do you play, Miss Bennet?”

  Elizabeth felt a blush creep up to her cheeks. “Very ill, I am afraid,” she said softly.

  “Nonsense, Lizzy,” Mrs. Gardiner said hastily. “Elizabeth is a very fine pianoforte player, and she has a lovely singing voice.” She patted Elizabeth’s arm sharply. “Lizzy, you are entirely too modest.”

  Mrs. Reynolds smiled, as though she expected all young ladies to be disparaging of their talents in polite company. The only problem was, Elizabeth was not being modest, she really was very uncoordinated at the pianoforte, even Mary’s tutor had pointed it out, which was why she had turned her attentions to other pursuits and accomplishments. Although, if pressed, she was not sure which ones she could mention. Her drawing was passable, her French was impossible, and Mrs. Gardiner was being far too generous when it came to her singing. Alas, it seemed that Elizabeth would have to content herself with being a witty conversationalist, and a young woman who had spent entirely too much time with her nose in a book.

  This fact suited her just fine, for the heroines in her books were accomplished in other ways they could not quite describe either.

  As they continued their tour through Pemberley, Elizabeth could not help but notice how effusively Mrs. Reynolds described her master. If the housekeeper were to be believed, Mr. Darcy was the kindest of masters who had never once said a harsh word to her. A far cry from what Elizabeth herself had experienced. It took every bit of restraint for her not to question the woman further.

  However, the more of the house they saw, and the more Mrs. Reynolds spoke of her life on the estate the more Elizabeth began to wonder if her opinion of Mr. Darcy had been colored by her own emotions and wounded feelings. Seeing the house gave her some insight into the man that Mr. Darcy was.

  “Would it not be a fine thing to be a mistress of a house such as this,” Mrs. Gardiner whispered as they followed Mrs. Reynolds through the conservatory and out into the gardens that flanked the house.

  “Indeed,” Elizabeth murmured in reply.

  “The Pemberley gardens have been tended by each mistress of the house since it was built,” Mrs. Reynolds said proudly. “The rose gardens were an especial point of pride for my late mistress. She cared for these roses as tenderly as she did her own children.”

  “It certainly shows,” Elizabeth said appreciatively. The roses were indeed beautiful. Every shade and size was represented here, from pale yellow miniatures to enormous deep red double blooms and delicate climbers that wound their way around arches and stonework in fragrant cascades.

  “Are you horticulturally inclined, Miss Bennet?” Mrs. Reynolds asked, and Elizabeth brightened slightly. She and Jane had taken great pride in the planting and cultivation of their own flower garden at Longbourn.

  “I do enjoy being in the garden very much, Mrs. Reynolds,” Elizabeth said with a smile. “My sister and I take great delight in our herb gardens, but I should very much like to learn more about roses and their care. This seems a great accomplishment.”

  Mrs. Reynolds nodded gravely. “Unfortunately, Miss Georgiana is so often away that she has not been able to pay these beauties the attention she should receive.” She sighed heavily and then brightened. “I can only hope that my master will choose a young woman with a green thumb for his bride. This house is sorely in need of a lady’s presence.”

  “Indeed,” Mrs. Gardiner said with a sly smile. “And where is Mr. Darcy at the moment, Mrs. Reynolds?” With her eyes, Elizabeth begged her aunt to stay silent, but Mrs. Gardiner ignored her niece’s discomfort blithely.

  “In London on business,” came the quick reply, “but I do expect him back tomorrow before tea.” Mrs. Reynolds smoothed down her apron and smiled at Mrs. Gardiner. “You are welcome to walk the grounds, but I must return to my duties.”

  “Of course,” Mrs. Gardiner agreed. “We have brought a picnic luncheon, and if you are not opposed, we should like to enjoy it by the lake.”

  “You are most welcome to do so,” Mrs. Reynolds replied warmly. “Do keep an eye on the swans, Miss Darcy insists on keeping them, but they can be quite troublesome if you get too close!”

  “We will keep that in mind,” Mrs. Gardiner laughed. Mrs. Reynolds bid them a good afternoon and disappeared into the house. Mrs. Gardiner looped her arm through her husband’s and Elizabeth fixed her aunt with a stern gaze, but Mrs. Gardiner diffused her niece’s ire with a simple wink. “Come, Lizzy, we will take our luncheon by the lake, and then resume our journey. Mrs. Wilkins from the Inn was kind enough to pack us a lovely luncheon.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “I confess I am not hungry,” she replied with a sigh. “You are more than welcome to enjoy it, and I will join you presently. Perhaps a brisk walk through gardens will jostle my appetite.”

  Mrs. Gardiner arched a brow but did not argue. “Come Mr. Gardiner,” she said with a smile, “let us adjourn to the lake, I believe I can hear your stomach rumbling already.”

  “Quite right,” Mr. Gardiner agreed heartily. “Mrs. Willis promised to put a slice of kidney pie in that basket!”

  “Then let us not keep it waiting,” Mrs. Gardiner laughed at her husband’s eager words. “Join us when you wish, Lizzy, I will try to save something from your uncle’s ravenous appetite for you.”

  Elizabeth waved them off and watched them leave the gardens with a smile upon her face. It was not a great hardship to enjoy her aunt and uncle’s company, and she hoped that one day her own marriage would be filled with such good-natured conversation and discourse. Her own parents were not an example of the way she would want her own marriage to be, but if she could have a marriage like the one she observed in her aunt and uncle? That would be very fine, indeed.


  There was a path that led through the gardens toward a stand of oak trees and Elizabeth suddenly felt the urge to escape the heat of the afternoon and walk in the coolness of the shade. She removed her bonnet and slung the ribbon over her wrist with a happy sigh and then paused to admire the roses Mrs. Reynolds had praised so highly. She inhaled the heady perfume of one particularly large bloom before following the path that led her away from the gardens with a smile upon her face.

  Mrs Gardiner was right, it would be quite something to be mistress of Pemberley.

  * * *

  The stone pathway gave way to packed dirt as she left the garden, and Elizabeth smiled as she entered the grove of oak trees and followed the winding trail. The sound of horses and the smell of fresh hay and sawdust reached her nostrils as she rounded another corner. At the edge of the grove, the Pemberley stables stretched out in a long, low building. A young boy led a mare with a shining chestnut coat through the stableyard and Elizabeth paused briefly, unsure of whether or not she should continue down the gentle slope and explore the stables. If she had been impressed by the grandeur of the house and confused by Mrs. Reynolds’ warm descriptions of Mr. Darcy, the stables were yet another reason to second guess her impressions of the most disagreeable gentleman of her acquaintance.

  As the boy disappeared around the edge of the stables, Elizabeth took a fortifying breath and walked quickly down towards the stone building. It looked like it had stood there for years, and she imagined that it had once housed magnificent horses and a fine carriage. She peeked around the corner of an open doorway and let out a small noise of surprise at the number of fine saddles and bridles that lined the room. She stepped into the room and breathed deeply. The smell of well-oiled leather filled her nose and she ran a finger over the delicate leatherwork on the nearest saddle. Which one was Mr. Darcy’s, she wondered.