“I have been so nervous about you since you left for London. I am so thankful to see you happy.” Jane had tears in her eyes as they all sat down for tea.
“Mr. Gardiner, are you fond of fishing?” Fitzwilliam asked.
“There is nothing I enjoy more!”
“Splendid! The house may have burnt down, but the lake is fully stocked. I hope you shall all return tomorrow—the men can fish, and the ladies can have the cottage to themselves.”
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy, that sounds like a perfect plan.”
Her family from both sides were already making plans together. What a good start!
* * *
While Darcy’swife spoke to her family, she had not stopped smiling. Jane was very beautiful, but her joy at being reunited with her dear sister was not reflected in her eyes—not like the joy that was in Elizabeth’s. Instead, there was a melancholy behind them. He would have to find out more about that. Mr.Gardiner appeared to be a sensible, agreeable gentleman, and Mrs. Gardiner was amiable and elegant. Their apparel spoke of the higher echelons of London. The way the couple looked at and spoke to Elizabeth was evidence of their love for her. Everything his wife had told him about their guests was true, and more.
Lying in bed that night, Darcy turned to his wife and asked, “Why have you never told me that your family calls you Lizzy?”
She sat up and turned away from him. “When I was forced to leave my home, I left the young, naïve Lizzy Bennet back in Hertfordshire.” She brushed away her tears. “You have always called me Elizabeth, and I saw no need to change that.”
“Well, I shall always have a great need for you, my darling Lizzy. Pray do not cry, you are here with me and always will be.” He pulled her so she was nestled close to him, and a series of kisses interrupted their conversation. “I was delighted to meet the Gardiners—I can understand why you spoke so well of them. I thought Jane looked well if not a bit sad.”
“Yes, she seems to have regained her serenity, but she is still not the Jane she was before my father’s death.”
“Can you tell me more about her and her marriage?”
“Although they were two years older, Jane, Henry—her future husband—, and I were childhood friends, and we all spent a great deal of time together. When Jane turned eighteen, Henry began to think of her in a more romantic way. She tried to maintain her distance because she was not ready to make a promise to him. Eventually, she gave in to my mother’s persistent encouragements and allowed him to call on her daily. You know the rest—she married him before my father died. She has a heart of gold, but how I wish she had married for love, like us.” She caressed her husband’s face and kissed him in a way that left him with no doubt about her feelings.
* * *
The followingmorning
When only Mr. Gardiner and Jane arrived, Elizabeth tried not to show her disappointment. Her aunt was indisposed but planned to join them later. As soon as Fitzwilliam and his new uncle were on their way to the lake, Elizabeth laughed at her sister’s inability to control her questions.
“Lizzy, tell me everything! I cannot believe how big the manor house was before the fire. To think that when it is rebuilt, you shall be mistress of such a mansion.”
“It was fortunate that when I arrived here, the house was naught but a burnt-out disaster. The size alone would have frightened me—I could never imagine myself in that role. We have been able to inspect part of the ground floor and Jane, the vast art and book collections and all the furnishings that were destroyed was heart-breaking. Now that I am mistress of only the cottage, and the house is gradually being rebuilt, I am slowly becoming accustomed to more and more of my responsibilities. Fitzwilliam has introduced me to the tenants who have returned, and they are making plans for a full spring planting. I meet regularly with the local vicar about the needs of the parish and the distribution of alms.”
“So, you will be a very busy woman when the estate returns to the way it was.”
“Yes, I shall be busy and very eager to fulfil my duties as Fitzwilliam’s wife.”
“You look wonderful—you are almost glowing. And what is all this talk of enchantment?”
“I must tell you the truth—even after we were betrothed, all was not well between my husband and me.”
“I do not believe it. You cannot take your eyes off each other, and I have seen your loving looks and frequent touching when you think no one is watching.”
“Yes,noweverything is perfect, but we did not acknowledge our love until the night of the wedding. When I first arrived in Lambton, I stayed with our aunt’s friend, Mrs. Hopkins. She told me about the local legend in regard to Pembrook Cottage being enchanted.”
“Did you believe her?”
“It was not that easy. After our wedding guests departed, and we were all alone, Fitzwilliam ignored me. I could not tolerate his indifference, so I ran upstairs and threw myself on the bed. I sobbed into my pillow and began to plan on how soon I could depart from Lambton.”
“It makes me so sad hearing you say that. You must have been terribly disappointed to wish to leave your husband on your wedding day. What happened that changed your mind?”
“My husband followed me up the stairs, and when he gathered me into his arms, the room seemed to glow. My face was clear, and his scars were gone. It was then we realized the stories of the cottage being enchanted were true.”
“Of course I believe you, but how can such a thing be real?”