Mary Simonsen - The Perfect Bride for Mr. Darcy

He immediately went in search of Mrs. Reynolds, who would not be expecting him until the next day. There was a time when his sudden arrival would have been welcomed by his housekeeper, but he had noticed that as she aged, she no longer enjoyed surprises. She wanted everything to be just so, and so he tried to give her as much notice as possible, whenever possible.

Mrs. Reynolds was sitting in her office going over the household accounts when he poked his head into the room. She immediately jumped up and greeted him with a big smile. She had seen him grow up from a sweet child into a considerate man, and nothing impressed her more than the care he had taken with his sister following their father’s death.

“I apologize for not getting word to you that I would be arriving a day early, Mrs. Reynolds. I left my sister and the rest of our party in Derby, and I thought I should come ahead so that I might meet with Mr. Aiken and get some of the estate business behind us. In that way, I shall have more time for my guests.”

“Oh, sir, it is no bother. You know how I love surprises. Earlier today, I gave friends of Miss de Bourgh’s a tour of the house.”

“Friends of Miss de Bourgh? Do you know their names?”

“Yes, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner of London and guest.”

“I do not recognize the name.”

“It was not more than an hour ago that I took them into the gardens. Shall I go see if they are still out there?”

“No, do not trouble yourself. You may return to your books.”

He wondered why Anne had said nothing to him about her friends visiting Pemberley. If she had only mentioned it to him, he would have arranged with Mrs. Reynolds to have a light meal served out on the terrace.

Looking down at his filthy boots, he debated whether or not he should introduce himself to the Gardiners in such a condition. Looking out of the library window, he saw that their carriage was still in the drive, but that the driver was nowhere to be seen. If he moved quickly, he would have time to go upstairs to wash his face and comb his hair.

From his bedroom window he could see a couple at the far end of the garden, and walking in the lower gardens, he could just make out the figure of a woman, possibly their daughter, who was walking backwards along the gravel path. There was something familiar about her; maybe he did know her after all. But he could not put any face to the name of Gardiner. Well, it was a puzzle that was easily solved, and after looking in the mirror to make sure that he had got all of the dirt off his face and neck, he went downstairs and headed for the gardens.

All was quiet at Longbourn. Many changes had come about since Jane’s outburst. Kitty had stopped whining about the absence of Lydia and the militia, and to everyone’s relief, Mary had stopped singing because of Johnny, the youngest of the Gardiner children. While Mary was croaking out a lullaby, the youngster had put his hands over his cousin’s mouth and had asked her not to sing. Everyone in the family now owed a debt of gratitude to the four-year-old boy.

For Jane, the greatest benefit was that her mother had stopped asking when Mr. Bingley was likely to return to Hertfordshire. In as firm a voice as she could command without being disrespectful, Jane had answered the question with one word. “Never!”

That evening, after they had retired, Mrs. Bennet complained to her husband about the new Jane. “I do not understand her at all. She has changed, but to my mind, not for the better. She is very short with me these days, and I cannot think why.”

“Mrs. Bennet, you truly cannot think why Jane is unhappy? Allow me to enlighten you. When Mr. Bingley dined at Longbourn, you itemized our daughter’s assets as if she was being put up for sale in the village marketplace. At the ball at Netherfield, you announced to everyone within hearing that Jane would shortly become engaged to Mr. Bingley even though he had not made her an offer of marriage. But the mangling of Bingley and Jane’s relationship rests with all of us, myself included. Out of laziness or a desire to be left alone with my books, I allowed my two youngest daughters to go out into society without proper preparation. Although she has no talent, I permitted Mary to sing in every venue, and now Jane has paid the price for you saying too much and me saying too little. But I can assure you, Mrs. Bennet, that is a thing of the past. Where correction is needed, I will not hesitate.” And then he blew out the candle.

While her father and mother lay in their bed discussing their eldest daughter, Jane had been sitting at her writing desk trying to think of something to write to Mr. Nesbitt. How did one respond to a letter that said nothing? In December, when they had talked at her Aunt Susan’s holiday party, the gentleman spoke at length of his occupation as a solicitor and the importance of putting as little in writing as possible, as it could be used as evidence. Apparently, this rule applied to personal correspondence as well. On that same occasion, he had asked if she knew that an oral contract was as binding as a written one, thus accounting for the lawsuits originated by the aggrieved party of a breach of a promise of marriage. The inappropriateness of discussing broken engagements with someone he was considering courting was lost on Mr. Nesbitt.

That letter was bad enough, but the second one was much worse as he had enclosed a lock of hair. Jane was offended that Mr. Nesbitt was so presumptuous as to make such a personal gesture so soon after they had begun corresponding. But that was not the worst of it. Although she could not account for all the gray in the sample, when she opened the folded paper, she had assumed that it contained her suitor’s hair. But then she had learned from the letter that it was his widowed mother’s hair. Was this his way of saying that Mrs. Nesbitt would be living with them after they had married? That was something Mr. Collins would do, and she shuddered at the thought of the two men having anything in common.

But write she must, and so she put pen to paper and began, “Dear Lizzy.”

While walking around the gardens, Elizabeth was very glad her aunt had insisted that they tour Pemberley. She loved everything about the manor house: its magnificent wrought-iron staircase, the marble fireplaces with their classical themes, the rooms filled with elegantly carved French furniture, the ballroom with its French windows opening onto a Repton terrace, and the sweeping view of the valley from the first-floor gallery.

When the party went into the music room, Lizzy admired the brand-new pianoforte with its inlays of ivory and precious woods that Mr. Darcy had presented to his sister on the occasion of her eighteenth birthday. When Aunt Gardiner informed Mrs. Reynolds that Lizzy was proficient on the instrument, she had allowed her to play a tune because, after all, she was a friend of Miss de Bourgh’s.

After they had finished the tour of the gardens, Mr. Ferguson returned to his work, but Lizzy was free to wander about the estate. In the lower gardens, there was a maze that had been designed for Lady Anne Darcy, and it was she who had been responsible for the animal topiary that popped up in the most unexpected places. Even though it had been ten years since her passing, Mr. Ferguson spoke affectionately of his mistress and shared with the visitors that unlike her neighbor, the Duchess of Devonshire, Lady Anne did not like moving from one country estate to another after the London season had ended. She often said she would rather be at Pemberley with her husband and children than anywhere else in England.

As explained on the tour, the gardens had been laid out by Humphry Repton, who had introduced the concept of themed gardens, but it was the elder Mr. Darcy who oversaw the preparations for the Chinese garden with its miniature temple and cascading waters at its heart. As much as Lizzy admired the quiet solitude afforded by such a refuge, if she had to choose only one place in which to spend an afternoon, it would be in the estate’s wide expanses of lush lawn with its ancient chestnut and oak trees paralleling the different paths leading to the lake.

It was a glorious day, and Lizzy took off her bonnet, and with the sun on her face, she thrust her arms outwards and up towards the heavens and spun around in the pure joy of the moment. That was what she was doing when she heard someone walking down the garden path.

Mr. Darcy had been watching Miss Elizabeth Bennet for several minutes. At first he thought he was seeing a mirage, but mirages did not spin and laugh. He started towards her several times but stopped each time. Although he had been hoping for just such a meeting, now that she was before him, he had no idea how to proceed. Still without a clue as to what he would say, he walked down the gravel path towards her, and when she turned and faced him, she went from being a beautiful and animated creature to one who stood as still as any of the sculptures in the garden.

“Mr. Darcy, what are you doing here?” she asked with her voice cracking.

“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, bowing, “this is my home,” and he looked back at the manor as if to confirm he was in fact at Pemberley.

“Of course it is your home. What I meant to say is, why are you here today? My aunt, uncle, and I were told that the family was away. We would never have intruded on your privacy if we had known that you were to be here.”

How had this happened? She had been assured by the chambermaid, the innkeeper, the carriage driver, and the housekeeper that the family was not at home. If that was the case, then why was Mr. Darcy standing in front of her?

“Please do not trouble yourself. I came ahead because I had business with my steward.”

But Lizzy was troubled. She could not recall a time in her entire life where she had been more embarrassed. What must he be thinking? He had just witnessed the same woman who had insulted him doing pirouettes in his garden. By way of explanation, she informed Mr. Darcy that she had been in correspondence with Miss de Bourgh regarding her holiday, and it was Anne who had suggested that the Gardiners and she visit the Peak rather than go farther north to the Lake District.

“Miss de Bourgh was quite insistent that we visit Pemberley, but she must not have known you would be coming to Pemberley at this particular time. She certainly did not know when your house was open to visitors.”

Mr. Darcy smiled and then started to laugh. Lizzy had never seen him laugh, and she thought what an incredibly handsome man he was when he did not have a furrowed brow. But those were thoughts for another time. For now, she could only wonder why he was laughing.

“You are mistaken, Miss Elizabeth. My cousin knew exactly when I would be coming, and I daresay she knew exactly when you would be arriving in Lambton.”

At that moment, Aunt and Uncle Gardiner joined Lizzy. She introduced her relations to Mr. Darcy and emphasized that the Gardiners lived in Gracechurch Street because, if she had accepted his proposal, these good people would have been lost to her because of their want of connections.

“I am familiar with that area as my business associate, Mr. George Bingley, has his office in Cheapside within the sounds of the bells of St. Mary-le-Bow. But let us not speak of London while we are in Derbyshire. I consider that to be a sacrilege.”

“We have visited many gardens on our holiday, Mr. Darcy, but I can say that there are few that are the equal of Pemberley,” Aunt Gardiner responded.

“You will get no argument from me on that point, Mrs. Gardiner, as I am excessively fond of them myself.” Looking down at his soiled clothes, he continued, “As you can see from my attire, I have just arrived by horseback, and if you will give me sufficient time to remove the uppermost layer of dirt, I would be very pleased to show you some of my favorite areas of the garden. But while you are waiting, may I order tea for you?”

“That will not be necessary as we dined at the inn at Lambton before coming to Pemberley, but we would be honored if you would lead us on a tour,” Mrs. Gardiner answered. “Shall we wait for you in the Chinese garden?”

When Mr. Darcy was out of sight, Mrs. Gardiner suggested to her husband that he continue on and that Lizzy and she would shortly follow.

Turning to her niece, she asked, “What are we to make of Mr. Darcy? We hear such conflicting accounts. His housekeeper, who has known him since he was child, sings his praises, but from what you tell me, he offended many when he was in Meryton and grievously injured Mr. Wickham.”