Charles Bingley did not lease a house in the country and Fitzwilliam Darcy was unable to visit Lady Catherine the following Easter. Therefore, when the Master of Pemberley arrives home to find a young woman visiting with her Aunt and Uncle, he knows that they have never met before, yet she leaves an indelible impression upon him.

 

~~<>@<>~~

No Finer County

Longbourn, Hertfordshire. The summer of 1812

"We bear you bad tidings. Not too grievous though, I hope." Aunt Gardiner broke the news to her niece as soon as they had alighted from their carriage at Longbourn.

"The guilt is mine," her uncle admitted. "My business will not allow me time away to visit all the Lake country. We shall have to content ourselves with Derbyshire."

Elizabeth could not fully hide her disappointment. "Oh! But Derbyshire has many beauties, has it not?"

"Indeed," her aunt replied, warming to her subject. "To me Derbyshire is the best of all counties. You will judge for yourself whether Chatsworth is not the equal of Blenheim. And surely these southern counties have nothing to compare to the wild and untamed beauty of the Peaks."

"You will see nature and culture in harmony, Lizzy. Wildness and artifice, and all in the one perfect county!" Mr. Gardiner delighted in tantalising his niece with those attractions that would most excite her interest.

Mrs Gardiner smiled fondly at her husband's description. "I was born and grew up there, so I should never disagree with that."

"Where exactly?"

"At Lambton; a little town of no consequence, except to those fortunate enough to have lived in it. I think it the dearest place in the world!"

"Then I shall not be happy till I have seen it."

~~<>@<>~~

Little more than the first week of their journey was spent on a circuitous route towards Derbyshire. On their way, they stopped at Oxford, before moving on to visit Blenheim Palace. Elizabeth had been astounded by the sheer scale of the Duke of Marlborough's estate, and the exquisite workmanship seen in the fine plasterwork, marble and gilding. She could not resist comparing it with the slightly smaller and less tasteful Rosings Park, home of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, which she had been fortunate to visit on a handful of occasions during her stay with the Collinses at Hunsford.

After travelling over some poorly maintained roads as they journeyed through Staffordshire and into Derbyshire, they arrived at the small village of Thorpe, which had the blessed fortune of lying very close to the entrance to Dovedale. Chatsworth was next on their itinerary, which overlooked the River Derwent as it wound lazily through the impressive estate. Mrs Gardiner delighted in seeing the elegant cascade of water in the garden, and the enfilade of baroque staterooms that stretched along the south front of the property.

Having seen all the principal wonders of the country — or at least those within a mile or two of their planned route — the Gardiners and their niece finally bent their steps towards the small Derbyshire town of Lambton; the scene of Mrs. Gardiner's former residence, and where she had lately learned that some old acquaintance still remained. Relaxing one evening after a hearty meal, Mrs Gardiner announced that within five miles of Lambton was a place she had always wished to view again; an elegant property known simply as Pemberley. Mr. Gardiner declared his willingness, and Elizabeth was applied to for her approbation.

"Another great house? I will admit to being sorely tired of viewing the houses of England's nobility. After going over so many, I no longer gain any pleasure in fine carpets or satin curtains."

Mrs. Gardiner abused her stupidity. "If it were merely a fine house, richly furnished, I should not care about it myself, but the grounds are delightful. They have some of the finest woods in the country."

Hearing of the variety of landscape which could be seen on the estate, Elizabeth was soon convinced of its worth. "And which Earl or Viscount owns this bastion of nature and tranquillity?"

"Pemberley is owned by the Darcy family," Mrs Gardiner explained. "They have no title, but have held land in the area for hundreds of years. When I lived in Lambton, old Mr. Darcy was considered to be an excellent man, but I understand that, since I left Derbyshire, he has died and his son has inherited the estate." She addressed the maid, who was clearing away the dishes from the table. "That is correct, is it not?"

"Yes, Ma'am," the maid replied quickly. "Mr. Darcy — the current Mr. Darcy I should say — took over the running of the estate five years ago."

"And is he as well thought of as his father was?"

"He is considered a good master, Ma'am, although he does not spend as much time in the country as his Father did."

"Is the family at home for the summer?"

Mr. Gardiner's question was met with a negative reply. As far as the girl was aware, the family were not expected, and as Elizabeth did not have an excessive dislike for the scheme, it was agreed that evening that they would ride out the following day and apply to the housekeeper for admittance.

Their journey began slightly later than they had anticipated, as Mrs Gardiner had come across one of her more talkative acquaintances outside their lodgings and they had not been able to extricate themselves with any dignity for at least an hour and a half. The sun was almost at its zenith when they were finally free to climb into the coach and set off on their five-mile journey.

As they drove along, Elizabeth watched for the first appearance of Pemberley Woods with some excitement, and when at length they turned in at the lodge, her spirits were high as they began their journey through the estate. The park was very large, and contained a great variety of ground. The entrance was at one of the lowest points, and they travelled for some time through a beautiful wood of oak and beech, which stretched over a wide extent.

Elizabeth's eager eyes saw and admired every remarkable spot and point of view. They gradually ascended for half a mile, and then found themselves at the top of a considerable eminence, where the wood ceased, and her eye was instantly caught by their first sight of Pemberley House, situated on the opposite side of the valley.

It was a large, handsome stone building, standing well on rising ground and backed by a ridge of high woody hills. In front of the house, a stream of some natural importance had been swelled into a large pond, but it retained a natural appearance. Elizabeth was delighted. She had never seen a place for which nature had done more, or where natural beauty had been so little counteracted by an awkward taste. They were all of them warm in their admiration, and Mr. Gardiner had just begun to wonder aloud whether any fish might be found in the stream, when a loud grating noise accompanied a violent jolt of the carriage. Elizabeth grasped her aunt's hand as a final crack punctuated the silence. Their vehicle lurched to the side, as the rear axle broke in two and the right hand wheel crumpled, rolling the passengers around the interior of the coach, which finally stilled at an acute angle.

After ascertaining that they had all survived the accident relatively unscathed — Mrs Gardiner's wrist had twisted as she braced herself against the door, but it did not feel broken — their coachman was instructed to unhitch the horses from the now listing conveyance, taking one of the mounts to raise the alarm with the staff at the house.

The Gardiners and Elizabeth could do little but wait by the side of the drive until some form of assistance arrived. Although they could see the house in the distance, it was too far for Mrs Gardiner to walk comfortably, and none of them wanted to appear at the door of such a grand property on foot and in a dishevelled state.

Mr. Gardiner smiled as his niece paced up and down by the side of the carriage. "You seem restless, Lizzy. Are you eager to get on to the house, or is it the park you wish to see more of?"

"I would like to stretch my legs and explore a little while we wait," Elizabeth admitted with a grin. Her uncle knew her too well. "May I take a short walk?"

Mr. Gardiner smiled; he had not expected his niece's patience to last long in their current situation. "Of course you may, but do not go too far. I will alert you when help arrives."

Elizabeth happily set off on a brisk walk away from the direction of the house. After walking for five minutes, she passed through a band of trees, arriving in a wide meadow, secluded from the rest of the park by a dense ribbon of lofty hedgerow. As she circled around the field, she grasped one of the tall grasses that swayed and danced in the breeze and pulled at it until it came free. Swishing her 'crop' backwards and forwards, she continued to wander, attempting to recall from which direction she had entered the enclosure. She had just resolved to try a particular route when a horse appeared suddenly through a gap in the hedge in front of her and almost ran her down. Her shout of alarm alerted the rider to her presence, and he tugged the reins back sharply, causing his horse to rear up. Elizabeth promptly stepped back, out of the range of the flailing hooves. She wanted to flee, but she still did not know the right direction, and was wary of getting any more lost than she was already.

"What the ...!"

Elizabeth looked up at the man, who was staring angrily down at her from the top of his horse.

"Who are you, and what are you doing here? You could have been hurt!" he exclaimed, his dark eyes glaring furiously. "I could have been hurt. Why are you here? Are you lost?"

As he waited impatiently for her reply, Elizabeth was torn between mortification and annoyance. Although she knew he was right, and was no doubt entitled to question her reason for being there, his haughty expression and arrogant tone of voice irritated her. "Yes, sir, I am," she replied sharply.

Taken aback my her confession, he stared at her in silence for a moment, before asking, "What on earth are you doing out here alone?"

"I am not alone, I was travelling with my aunt and uncle. Are you familiar with the drive that runs through Pemberley Woods, towards the house?"

"Of course."

"We were driving through the park, and intended to apply to view the house, but our carriage suffered a mishap. I believe the rear wheel may be broken."

Upon hearing her explanation his expression immediately softened to one of concern and he quickly dismounted. "Was anyone hurt?"

She shook her head. "My aunt suffered a slight sprain to her wrist, but otherwise we are all well. My uncle sent his coachman ahead and was awaiting assistance from the house when I decided to take a walk to pass the time." She looked down, embarrassed about what she had now to admit. "I normally have a good sense of direction when walking near my own home, but being unfamiliar with this area I seem to have lost my way." In the distance, Elizabeth heard her uncle's faint voice as he shouted her name.

"Lizzy?"

She frowned, turning her head this way and that as she tried to gauge where Mr. Gardiner was in relation to her current position. "That is my uncle calling for me. If you will excuse me, I must go." She gave the stranger a curt nod and began walking away to her left, in what she thought was the right direction.

"No, not that way!" he called sharply, causing her to pause as she looked questioningly at him. Sweeping his arm around in an arc, he explained. "This meadow is Bell Field. Its shape means that the direction of the sound can sometimes be distorted here. The road you seek is actually in this direction." He indicated a gap in the hedge away on the right. "If you will permit me, I will return you to your companions."

Elizabeth smiled gratefully at him and nodded her acceptance of his offer, watching him as he collected his horse. Since he had dismounted it had not escaped her notice that the gentleman who now walked by her side was rather pleasing to look at. He was tall — certainly one of the tallest men she had met — with distinguished features and a noble mien, which, she had to admit, was rather impressive. His dark hair curled around the brim of his hat and brushed against his fashionably high collar. She began to wonder who would be riding through the grounds of this great house at this time of day. It was obvious from his knowledge of the land that he was in some way connected with the property; the steward or his assistant perhaps. As they entered the hedge once more, she made her mind up to enquire to whom she was indebted, but before she had the chance, the trees thinned and she saw her aunt and uncle ahead of them.

"Lizzy! Where have you been? We were very worried for you."

"There was no need to be concerned, Aunt, I was not far, although I had become disorientated. However, I was fortunate to encounter this gentleman, who kindly directed me back to the road."

"We thank you for your assistance, sir. As you can see, we have had a spot of bother. The rear axle has broken and that wheel over there was crushed in the accident. My man returned to tell us that they were harnessing a carriage from the house to collect us." He motioned to the empty traces at the front of the carriage. "He has only just taken our team back to the stables with him." At a subtle signal from his wife, he coughed with embarrassment before he introduced himself to the stranger. "Oh! Do excuse me. Edward Gardiner, of London. This is my wife, and my niece, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. May I ask whom I have the pleasure of addressing?"

The younger man accepted the introduction silently, bowing to the ladies, before offering his own name. "Fitzwilliam Darcy."

"Darcy? A member of the family then? I apologise for trespassing on your time, sir. We were assured that the family was away. If I can only ask your forbearance a little longer, while we deal with my equipage, we can then return to Lambton and leave you in peace."

Elizabeth was astonished when the man gave his name. His intimate knowledge of the estate was now easily explained, as was his anger at finding her wandering the park. She never imagined that she would meet anyone so closely connected with the house during her visit. The other grand properties she had viewed during her journey from Hertfordshire had all been devoid of anyone except the minimum of staff to maintain them, and she had become used to the fact that these elegant country houses could be so little used and appreciated by their owners. However, here was one man who proved otherwise.

"Please, Mr. Gardiner, do not concern yourself. Business with my steward occasioned my coming forward a few hours before the rest of the party with whom I have been travelling."

Elizabeth thought she saw his eyes flicker briefly in her direction while talking to her uncle and she was forced to subdue the butterflies that had begun to swirl inside her as she admired the way he took control of their situation. She had never dreamed that she might have been in the presence of the Master of Pemberley himself.

"You are not inconveniencing me in the slightest, sir. When the carriage collects you, I urge you to continue with your planned visit; there is no need to withdraw on my account. I will instruct my housekeeper to show you around the house. I have no doubt that I will have to leave again shortly to view whatever problem needs my attention. If my staff cannot repair your carriage before you leave, arrangements can be made to instruct Mr. Ellis at Lambton, who is quite capable of dealing with anything you may need. If necessary, I will ensure you are returned to your lodgings until the repair can be completed."

"That is more than generous, sir. However, I do not think that—"

The younger man held up his hand to forestall him. "Please, Mr. Gardiner, I insist. It is the least I can do. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to find my steward, and I see the carriage coming to collect you. Good day to you, Mr. Gardiner; Mrs Gardiner; Miss ..." He paused a moment before tipping his hat once more. Striding towards his horse, which he mounted easily, he settled himself comfortably into the saddle.

Elizabeth was embarrassed that he had forgotten her name. However, she accepted that such a great man must be introduced to many young women in the course of a week, and one more or less would hardly signify. He had turned briefly in her direction before urging his horse around to continue on towards the great house. His expression had been unreadable and she found herself wondering what he had thought when he had found her lost in his grounds. No doubt thinking I was not safe to be left alone when I can lose myself so thoroughly in barely a handful of steps, she thought ruefully. He must think me a complete fool! Elizabeth was surprised to realise that she was disappointed in herself for losing his good opinion so thoroughly in such a short time. Do not be ridiculous! She admonished herself silently. He barely noticed you, and why should he? After all, he is the Master of Pemberley — far above the likes of Lizzy Bennet of Longbourn!

Once the Gardiners and Elizabeth were settled into the beautiful Darcy carriage, they were able to continue their short journey to the house. After only ten more minutes of travel, they descended the hill, crossed the bridge and drove to the door. While examining the front aspect of the house in more detail, Elizabeth's apprehensions of meeting its owner again surfaced. On applying to see the place, they were admitted into the large reception hall, and Elizabeth, as they waited for the housekeeper, had leisure to contemplate where in the house the young and handsome Mr. Darcy might be at that exact moment.

After only a brief wait, the housekeeper came; a respectable-looking, elderly woman, who was much less fine, and more civil, than she had any notion of finding her. She sympathised with the Gardiners and Elizabeth over their accident, and offered them tea, explaining that it would help them with the terrible shock they had suffered. Elizabeth could not help but be impressed by her kindness. At no other property had they been made to feel so welcome. Mrs Reynolds also prepared a cold compress to ease the twinge in Mrs Gardiner's wrist, and would not think of allowing them to move until they reassured her that they had suffered no further ill effects from their adventure.

Finally, Mrs Reynolds suggested that they begin the tour that they had come to see, and they followed her into the dining-parlour. It was a large, well-proportioned room, handsomely fitted up. Elizabeth, after surveying it slightly, went to a window to enjoy its prospect. The hill, crowned with the wood, from which they had descended, was beautiful. In fact, every disposition of the ground was good, and she looked on the whole scene — the river, the trees scattered on its banks, and the winding of the valley as far as she could trace it — with delight. As they passed into other rooms, these objects were taking different positions, but from every window, there were beauties to be seen. The rooms were lofty and handsome, and their furniture suitable to the fortune of their proprietor, but Elizabeth saw, with admiration of his taste, that it was neither gaudy nor uselessly fine, with less splendour, and more real elegance, than the furniture she had seen at Rosings.

Her aunt now called her to look at a picture. She approached, and saw the likeness of Mr. Wickham suspended, amongst several other miniatures, over the mantelpiece. Her aunt was astonished to see it, and asked her whether she thought it was the gentleman they had become acquainted with in Hertfordshire. The housekeeper then came forward, and told them it was the picture of a young gentleman, the son of her late master's steward, who had been brought up by him at his own expense. "He is now gone into the army," she added, "but I am afraid he has turned out very wild."

"Excuse me, but is his name Mr. Wickham, by any chance?" Mrs Gardiner asked.

"Yes, it is," Mrs Reynolds replied suspiciously. "Are you at all acquainted with Mr. Wickham?"

Elizabeth coloured, and said, "A little."

Mrs. Reynolds's respect for Elizabeth seemed to decrease on this intimation of her knowing that particular gentleman, and Elizabeth felt the need to explain. "He was attached to the Militia regiment which has been quartered in a town near to my home. He did speak of growing up on an estate in Derbyshire, and being close to the family, but I did not realise that he was referring to Pemberley. In fact, I do not believe I have heard the estate or family spoken of until my aunt mentioned it yesterday."

"I have known George Wickham since he was a small boy, but I was never more disappointed in anyone. I am sorry to say that he is not as honest as I would like, but," she added, looking over her shoulder, "it is probably best that I should say no more on the subject." She turned to Elizabeth, fixing her with an earnest expression. "However, I would advise you to take anything he says with a pinch of salt, my dear. More than one young woman has been distressed by his less than gentlemanly behaviour. I would hate to see a pretty young lady like you be taken in by the young rascal."

Mrs. Gardiner looked at her niece with a worried frown, but Elizabeth pretended not to see it.

Returning to business, the housekeeper continued the tour. "And that," she said, pointing to another of the miniatures, "is my Master — and very like him. It was drawn at the same time as the other — about eight years ago."

"I have heard much of your master's fine person," said Mrs. Gardiner, looking at the picture. "It is a handsome face, but I barely caught a glimpse of him when he spoke to us outside. Lizzy, you spent more time with Mr. Darcy this afternoon; can you tell me whether it is like or not?"

"Yes, I can see a resemblance, although our encounter was only fleeting, and I did not get as long an opportunity as you might imagine." She lowered her voice to a whisper as she added, "I was far too humiliated to be able to spend much time appraising my rescuer."

"And do not you think him a very handsome gentleman, Miss?" Mrs Reynolds asked proudly.

"Yes, very handsome," Elizabeth replied honestly, with a blushing smile.

"I am sure I know none so handsome, but in the gallery upstairs you will see a finer, larger picture of him than this. This room was my late master's favourite room, and these miniatures are just as they used to be then. He was very fond of them."

This accounted to Elizabeth for Mr. Wickham's being among them.

Mrs. Reynolds then directed their attention to one of Miss Darcy, drawn when she was only eight years old.

"And is Miss Darcy as handsome as her brother?" said Mr. Gardiner.

"Oh yes! The handsomest young lady that ever was seen, and so accomplished! She plays and sings all day long. In the next room is a new instrument just come down for her — a present from my master; she comes here tomorrow to join him."

Mr. Gardiner, whose manners were easy and pleasant, encouraged her communicativeness by his questions and remarks. Mrs. Reynolds, either from pride or attachment, evidently gained great pleasure in talking of her master and his sister.

After examining both the furniture and the fireplace, Mr. Gardiner asked, "Is your master much at Pemberley in the course of the year?"

"Not so much as I could wish, Sir, but I dare say he may spend half his time here; and Miss Darcy is always down for the summer months."

"If your master would marry, you might see more of him."

"Yes, Sir; but I do not know when that will be. I do not know who is good enough for him."

Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner smiled and Elizabeth could not help saying, "It is very much to his credit, I am sure, that you should think so."

"I say no more than the truth, and what every body will say that knows him," replied Mrs Reynolds. Elizabeth thought this was going pretty far, and she listened with increasing astonishment as the housekeeper added, "I have never had a cross word from him in my life, and I have known him ever since he was four years old."

This was praise most opposite to her first impression of him. That he was not a good-tempered man had been her initial opinion after their unfortunate meeting in the field, although his subsequent concern for their welfare had gone a long way to softening her assessment. As a result, her keenest attention was awakened; she longed to hear more, and was grateful to her uncle for saying,

"There are very few people of whom so much can be said. You are lucky in having such a master."

"Yes, Sir, I know I am. If I was to go through the world, I could not meet with a better one. But I have always observed that they who are good-natured when children are good-natured when they grow up; and he was always the sweetest-tempered, most generous-hearted, boy in the world."

Elizabeth stared at her. Would Mrs Hill ever be this generous about her master?

"His father was an excellent man," said Mrs. Gardiner.

"Yes, Ma'am, that he was indeed; and his son will be just like him — just as affable to the poor."

Elizabeth listened, doubted, and was impatient for more. She tried to bring to mind the features of the gentleman in question — not an easy task after such a brief encounter — and considered that her first harsh impression of the man was obviously unfair. After all, she had almost caused him to come off his horse, and, in every other respect, his description had seemed to suggest he was without peer. Mrs. Reynolds could interest her on no other point. She related the subject of the pictures, the dimensions of the rooms, and the price of the furniture, in vain.

Mr. Gardiner, highly amused by the kind of family prejudice to which he attributed her excessive commendation of her master, soon led again to the subject, and she dwelt with energy on his many merits, as they proceeded together up the great staircase.

"He is the best landlord, and the best master," said she, "that ever lived. Not like the wild young men now a days, who think of nothing but themselves. There is not one of his tenants or servants but what will give him a good name. Some people call him proud, but I am sure I never saw any thing of it. To my fancy, it is only because he does not rattle away like other young men."

Yes, proud is the impression I was given, and it appears I am not the first person to believe so, and yet he is praised to the skies by his housekeeper? In what an amiable light does this place him! thought Elizabeth.

"This fine account of him," whispered her aunt, as they walked up the stairs, "is not quite consistent with his behaviour to our poor friend Wickham."

Elizabeth looked briefly over the bannister, down to the great hall below, before replying. "Perhaps Mrs Reynolds is right, and we might have been deceived in that matter. After all, we only have Mr. Wickham's own assertions that he had been denied his inheritance."

Her aunt nodded knowingly, but did not bring up the subject again.

On reaching the spacious lobby at the top of the stairs, they were shown into a very pretty sitting room, lately fitted up with greater elegance and lightness than the apartments below, and were informed that it was but just done to give pleasure to Miss Darcy, who had taken a liking to the room when last at Pemberley.

"He is certainly a good brother," said Elizabeth, as she walked towards one of the windows.

Mrs. Reynolds anticipated Miss Darcy's delight when she should enter the room. "And this is always the way with him," she added. "Whatever can give his sister any pleasure is sure to be done in a moment. There is nothing he would not do for her."

The picture gallery and two or three of the principal bedrooms were all that remained to be shown. In the former were many good paintings but Elizabeth knew nothing of art, and from such as had been already visible below, she had willingly turned to look at some drawings of Miss Darcy's, in crayons, whose subjects were usually more interesting, and also more intelligible.

In the gallery, there were many family portraits, but they could have little to fix the attention of a stranger. Elizabeth walked on down the long gallery in quest of the only face whose features would be known to her. At last it arrested her — and she beheld a striking resemblance of Mr. Darcy, with such a smile over his face as she thought any woman would pray to see directed at her. She stood several minutes before the picture in earnest contemplation, and returned to it again before they quitted the gallery. Mrs. Reynolds informed them that it had been taken in his father's life time.

There was certainly at this moment, in Elizabeth's mind, a more gentle sensation towards the original than she had felt during their first abrupt meeting. The commendation bestowed on him by Mrs. Reynolds was of no trifling nature. What praise is more valuable than the praise of an intelligent servant? As a brother, a landlord, a master, she considered how many people's happiness were in his guardianship! How much of pleasure or pain it was in his power to bestow! How much of good or evil must be done by him! Every idea that had been brought forward by the housekeeper was favourable to his character, and as she stood before the canvas, on which he was represented, and fixed his eyes upon herself, she thought of his regard. How fortunate is the woman who has won his affections, for he must be greatly esteemed by many fine ladies.

She laughed at her own thoughts. It is not likely to be anyone I know.

When all of the house that was open to general inspection had been seen, they returned downstairs, and, taking leave of the housekeeper, were consigned over to the gardener, who met them at the hall door.

As they walked across the lawn towards the river, Elizabeth turned back to look at the house again. Her uncle and aunt stopped also, and while the former was conjecturing as to the date of the building, the gardener began to explain a little about the history of Pemberley's fine gardens.

~~<>@<>~~

Fitzwilliam Darcy stood by his chamber window, wrapped only in his robe, as he watched the visitors walking away from the house. His dark curls, still wet from the bath, dripped water onto the rug beneath his feet. He blotted his sodden locks absentmindedly with a towel before draping it around his neck, as his eyes once again returned to the scene outside.

The young woman whose presence had so surprised him as he cut across the estate from the Tideswell road was now following her aunt and uncle, who were speaking with Old Joseph. His head gardener was a creature of habit, and Darcy smiled as he recalled what they could expect from their tour of the park. The standing wager between Joseph and his son Luke, the under-gardener, was sixpence; with Joseph collecting for every party who requested to view the park in its entirety. To anyone foolish enough to ask, the answer was always the same: the park encompassed an area of ten miles around. The gardener always provided the information with pride and pleasure, happy in the knowledge that he would receive a tanner for his troubles, regardless of whether they decided to brave the lengthy hike or not.

As Darcy pondered this, the young woman on the lawn below stopped and turned to look at the house. Her relatives seemed to be discussing Pemberley's fine southern elevation, no doubt counting the windows — a practice regularly noticed in visitors, although Darcy could never quite understand why. He naturally expected any young female to admire his house; it was a visible symbol of his wealth and status after all. However, this particular lady — known as 'Lizzy' to her aunt and uncle — seemed to be dissatisfied, as though she were looking past the house and its contents, searching for something else. He took a step back, hiding himself behind the drapes before he even realised he had moved. Why should I hide in my own home? He chided himself. It was not as though her sight could reach through his window.

However, as hard as it was to admit, he had hidden from her once already.

After arriving at the house, his first order of business had been to speak to Mrs Reynolds, instructing her to provide every comfort and assistance to the unfortunate visitors who were, at this moment, making their way down the drive. He then located his steward, and there followed a short initial meeting when the nature of the problem which had recalled him to Pemberley had been discussed. Although the issue was not insignificant, there was no need to visit the property involved in order to make a decision. Therefore, he had allowed himself a short time to relax after his long journey, where he could ponder the problem while soaking in a warm bath. Leaving his study, he climbed the stairs two at a time, eager for the opportunity to rid himself of his dusty riding clothes. At the top of the second flight of stairs, the sound of voices below made him pause. Looking down he could see Mrs Reynolds walking through the lower hall, two floors below, indicating the way up the stairs for the visitors.

Stepping back, away from the banister, lest he be noticed, he could not help but hear his housekeeper's words echoing around the high space. "Some people call him proud, but I am sure I never saw any thing of it. To my fancy, it is only because he does not rattle away like other young men."

Darcy smiled at Mrs Reynold's sentiments and shook his head. It was ironic that most people took his reticence in company for pride. Much of his reserve was due to his parent's strong preference for the country over town, and his early diffidence in his abilities to be a good master at such a young age.

He could no longer see the visitors, as they were now directly below him on the lower landing, but he could hear the older woman as she addressed her niece. "This fine account of him is not quite consistent with his behaviour to our poor friend Wickham."

Wickham? Friend? He felt all his anger at his former childhood friend bubble up inside him once more and almost missed the young woman's reply. "Perhaps Mrs Reynolds is right, and we might have been deceived in that matter. After all, we only have Mr. Wickham's own assertions that he had been denied his inheritance."

Desperate to know what stories had been told by Wickham, and how his former friend had come to the attention of these people, Darcy waited until the group had moved into the sitting room; Georgiana's favourite room which he had recently redecorated to her taste. While the gentleman and ladies were expressing their admiration of the new colour scheme, Darcy stole quietly down the stairs, walking through into the long gallery, where he knew from experience Mrs Reynolds would steer the visitors next. Feeling slightly ridiculous for concealing himself in his own home, Darcy pressed his fingers under the mantelpiece of the first fireplace he came to, which preceded a muffled click in the wall beyond. Pushing the hidden door, he slipped into the narrow compartment, closing the portal behind him.

Confident that he was still only interested in more recent intelligence of Wickham, he waited patiently for the group to enter the portrait gallery. When he finally heard their voices behind the panelling, Darcy put his eye to a viewing hole and watched the man from London and wife as they politely examined the paintings lining the walls, and made complementary noises about each one. Perhaps it was because they were of his family, but Fitzwilliam Darcy could find very little complementary to say about his many times great Uncle Stephen — who locked his wife in her room for three years — or his thrice Great Grandmother — who had been a mistress of the King before being 'given' to a Darcy ancestor in recognition of loyal service. Of his motley collection of distant relatives, only his great Uncle Gamaliel Darcy, the Judge, had earned young Fitzwilliam's respect to any degree before his death, but that portrait was further along the extensive wall of images, near to the more recent, and favoured, works.

All thoughts of his family ground to a halt, as the young woman came within his sight. Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Why had he shivered so when she had been introduced to him? It was as though the ghosts of innumerable Darcys had flowed through him at the very mention of her, but why? Her given name was wholly unremarkable; he had been introduced to countless Elizabeth's in the past without suffering any ill effects. Darcy knew no Bennets from town, and was very aware of the fact that he had never met her before, so why had she appeared so familiar to him? When he had happened across her in the park, he had, at first, scarcely allowed her to be pretty. However, now, hidden behind the panel, Darcy was able to study her more closely while she remained within view. Her features were agreeable, although not uncommonly so, but he noticed that her aspect was rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression in her dark eyes.

Then she was gone, having moved with the party further down the gallery to view the other portraits. Darcy sighed, and leaned his forehead against the thin wall of the hidden compartment. In all the years since he had been forced to move in society, he had never once been affected by a woman like this. Had he found her? Was this the woman his father had counselled him about? He remembered his incredulity as old Mr. Darcy had spoken about the day he had first met Lady Anne Fitzwilliam, and how he had known, almost from the moment he was introduced, that she would be his wife. There had followed a long lecture about the importance of marriage; not just as a financial transaction to benefit his children and line his pockets, but the consequence of a genuine affection, which comes from marriage to a woman whose very presence could merge seamlessly into your soul. The young Fitzwilliam had hesitantly asked his father how he would recognise such a woman, but his answer had been enigmatical; you will know.

Taking a deep breath, Darcy opened the door of the secret room barely a crack, and gingerly looked down the length of the gallery. Mrs Reynolds was at the very end of the room, showing the Gardiners through the far door which led to the principal guest bedrooms — the only bedchambers he would allow to be shown to visiting tourists. Miss Bennet, meanwhile, was standing in front of the most recent family portraits, in earnest contemplation of one particular painting. He heard Mrs Reynold's voice as it echoed down the length of the silent room.

"Yes, that portrait of the Master was taken during his Father's lifetime. An accurate likeness, would you not say, Miss?"

She had nodded, reluctantly tearing her eyes from the image before joining her aunt and uncle as they continued the tour. More than a little concerned by the thoughts that had been going through his mind, he had left the gallery the same way he had gone in, and returned to the upper floor, where he slipped into the Master's suite and called for his much needed bath.

As he laid his head back on the curled rim of the metal bath, his eyes began to droop. He had left Georgiana and his guests early that morning, and had ridden hard to reach Pemberley that afternoon, so it was unsurprising that he was so exhausted. He would certainly have fallen asleep in the tub if he had not been startled by the sound of the door opening behind him. Assuming that it was his man bringing more hot water, he hauled himself up into a sitting position, with his head bowed, and patiently awaited the deluge. It never came. Instead, he looked up to see the young woman he had been watching in the gallery, standing by his window, looking out over the garden. What on earth is she doing here? His gaze flickered to the door, half expecting to see the Gardiners following their niece, but it was firmly closed. Belatedly, he realised that he was naked, in a bath full of rapidly cooling water. He surreptitiously stretched out his arm — attempting to grasp his robe, which had been left on a nearby chair — but it was just out of reach. Covering the most private parts of his anatomy with both arms across his lap, he cleared his throat pointedly.

"Miss Bennet! May I ask what you are doing in my dressing room?"

Still looking out at the garden, she said, "Mr Darcy, I would have thought that was obvious. I am admiring the view from the window, of course."

"But how did you get in here? Where is Mrs Reynolds?"

"My aunt's wrist has been very painful, and she has been suffering greatly. Mrs Reynolds has taken her down to the kitchen for some medicinal brandy."

"This chamber is part of my own rooms. It is not on the tour given to visitors ... particularly when it is occupied in this manner!"

Only then did she turn and notice his situation, her eyebrows raised in surprise. "Mr. Darcy. You are all wet!"

He sat up straighter, attempting to retain a shred of dignity. "Yes, Madam. Unfortunately, it is a consequence of bathing. I suppose I could try not using water, but then it would not be so much like a bath."

The young woman laughed lightly at his comment, before looking down into the murky water. Blushing, she looked away, and Darcy belatedly realised that, during his previous comment his hands had moved to grip the sides of the tub, exposing his nakedness.

Returning his hands to their former position, he spoke sharply to her. "My man will be here at any moment. You should return to your aunt and uncle."

"Perhaps you are correct, sir."

"However, before you go, would ... erm, would you be so kind as to hand me my robe as you pass? It is here, behind me, just out of reach."

"Certainly, Mr. Darcy." She circled around the bath until she reached the chair in question. Picking up the patterned robe, she rubbed the soft silk gently against her cheek.

He turned away, not wanting to stare at her actions and consumed by mixed emotions. Part of him wanted her to leave the room immediately. He had always been a very private individual, and the Master's chambers at Pemberley were a sanctuary to which only a few members of his household staff were allowed admittance. He found it curious that he was not more angry with her for straying into his dressing room. That, of course, brought him to his other thoughts and feelings, which emanated from an ancient part of the human brain and were far simpler to understand. As much as he valued his privacy, Darcy did not actually want her to leave at all.

He was expecting her to pass him the robe and bid him farewell, but that seemed to be furthest from her mind. Instead, he felt her hands upon his shoulders, her thumbs tracing circles down either side of his spine.

"Mr. Darcy, you are very tense. It must be all those important estate matters that make you so stiff. A bath will hardly do anything to relax you if you sit in such an uncomfortable manner."

Before he even had the chance to reply, she knelt behind him, kneading the knotted muscles in his shoulders and back. "Miss Bennet," he complained half-heartedly, making no move to halt her progress. "This is most improper. What if someone should walk in?"

"Well, then of course you would have to marry me," she said, in a very matter-of-fact tone.

"I am sorry, Miss Bennet, but I would not marry anyone for whom I did not have the deepest love and respect. I do not even know you."

His words had no effect on her movements and he closed his eyes, gradually feeling his whole body loosen and relax. Very slowly, she moved her hands down his torso, tracing the contours of those muscles developed and toned from daily exercise and riding. When her ministrations finally ceased, he felt bereft, and twisted himself around to meet her eyes. Catching her face between his wet hands, he pulled her towards him and lightly caressed her lips with his own. Surprised by his own behaviour, he looked closely at her, expecting to see her annoyance and anger. Instead, he watched as her dark eyes smiled at him, and he felt it once more; that jolt of ... something, which had so surprised him at the mention of her name. "What have you done to me?"

It was only when his valet abruptly entered the room with more water that Darcy woke from his dream; a fact which he accepted with as good a grace as he could muster. He did not really expect Miss Bennet to be in his dressing room, but it did not combat the disappointment he felt when he looked around the room and saw that she was gone. No, not gone ... she had never been there in the first place. The warmth of the fresh water brought him no relief whatsoever. What he needed at this moment was definitely something much colder. What he would not give to swim in the pond right now.

If his man noticed anything unusual about his master's physical state, he wisely remained silent; holding the robe open for his master as he stepped out of the bath. Darcy wrapped the soft silk around his body, tied the belt loosely, to disguise the remaining evidence of his disturbing dream, and wandered towards that same window where he had seen her standing.

He wondered absently if his father had ever had a dream like that, and whether it was a portent of things to come.

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