When the three were settled in, the coachman closed the door. Mr. Darcy ducked his head to look into the window. “Shall we send someone for Miss Bennet later this evening?”
Mr. Ketterling put up his hand. “No, no. We shall bring her back ourselves.”
Mr. Darcy looked down toward his feet and then back up. “And when can we expect her return?”
“We shall have her back by dusk, sir,” laughed Mr. Ketterling.
“Good… good. I hope you have a very enjoyable visit.” His eyes briefly fixed on Elizabeth before stepping away from the window. He then turned and walked away.
Elizabeth fought hard to hide the confusion that swept through her. His remarks to the Ketterlings reminded her of a father making inquiries of a young man who has designs on his daughter. She was both flattered and at the same time wondered whether he was merely looking out for one of his guests. Considering she was a guest who at one time ruthlessly refused his marriage proposal, she did not deserve such kind attention.
Mr. and Mrs. Ketterling’s continued admiration for Mr. Darcy assured Elizabeth that they were oblivious to anything she was feeling. Fortunately for her, they soon began talking about Lambton and how much they enjoyed living there.
She nodded absently, wishing she could tend to their words, but found her thoughts straying back to Darcy’s words.
She wondered whether earlier he was going to say that she had every right to turn down Mr. Collins’s proposal. Did he know? Inwardly she shuddered. Of course, he did, reasoned Elizabeth. His aunt would certainly have informed him and his cousin just how foolhardy she had been in refusing him. She could only imagine what his aunt’s reaction would be if she was aware that she had also turned down an offer from her illustrious nephew! She turned her head abruptly to look out the window, feigning an interest in the scenery, but more so hoping to conceal from the Ketterlings the feelings of dismay she was experiencing.
Chiding herself for her wayward thoughts and inattention, she turned back to the Ketterlings and smiled. “It is certainly lovely here.”
They rode into the small village of Lambton, and Mrs. Ketterling pointed out what had changed and what had not since her and her aunt’s childhood. She pointed out the park where they played, the store that sold the very best candy, and the assembly room, where they both attended their first ball.
They took a turn down a small, winding dirt road, and after passing several small homes, the carriage stopped.
“Is this your home?” Elizabeth asked.
Mrs. Ketterling shook her head. “No, my dear. This was your aunt’s home.”
She reached out for Mrs. Ketterling’s hand. “This is where she grew up?”
Both Mr. and Mrs. Ketterling nodded. “Unfortunately, we only just discovered the owners are away,” Mrs. Ketterling told Elizabeth. “We had so wished to inquire about a tour of the inside.”
“But we can certainly walk about the grounds if you like,” Mr. Ketterling offered.
“I would like that very much.”
A cobblestone path made its way up to the front door. Ivy clung to the brick home, winding up and over the doorpost. It was a simple two-story home, but very well kept.
“Come around here,” Mrs. Ketterling said as she pointed to the back of the home. “You must see this.”
They walked around the back, and Elizabeth immediately heard the sound of water. She saw a bench situated out in the midst of trees, which appeared to be where they were headed. As they drew nearer, Elizabeth saw that a stream ran just beyond.
“This is lovely!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “My aunt had a stream behind her house.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Ketterling clasped her hands together. “And this bench is where the two of us often sat sharing our dreams.” She looked over at her husband, who had gone on down toward the water’s edge.
“Truth be told, Miss Bennet,” her fervent whisper was coupled with a slight giggle, “our dreams often consisted of meeting—and marrying—someone like Mr. Darcy!”
Elizabeth drew her head back. “Mr. Darcy?”
“Well, the late Mr. Darcy, of course. So handsome and kind he was.” She let out a long sigh.
Elizabeth pursed her lips together in a smile. Nodding toward Mr. Ketterling, she said, “Your husband seems very kind.”
“Oh, yes, he is, as is Mr. Gardiner. I was so pleased when your aunt married him. Do you know that your uncle proposed right here on this bench?”
“Did he, indeed?” Elizabeth asked, smiling as she pictured that in her mind.
“Oh, yes, he did. While I was very happy that they were marrying, I was not too happy with him for taking her from me. We were such good friends, and they immediately moved to London.” With a shake of her head she said, “Well, enough of that. There is much more to see.”
They spent another hour riding about and walking the streets of Lambton, sometimes stopping to look into a shop window or pay a call at a friend’s home. After the Ketterlings had shown Elizabeth everything she could possibly have wished to see, they made their way to their home.
It was a modest-sized home with what looked like two rooms upstairs. She thought it must have been quite noisy raising a family with three boys in such small confines. But it was well kept and decorated simply, but nicely.
Elizabeth visited with Mrs. Ketterling for most of the afternoon, and later in the day, guests began arriving. Four other couples had been invited for dinner, all of whom had been close acquaintances of her aunt.
She delighted in the stories they told about her aunt; some of the things she had done when she was young seemed so unlike her. She looked forward to the next time she saw her aunt so she could tease her mercilessly.
At one point, the subject turned to the Darcys. They were very much in awe that Elizabeth was a guest at Pemberley.
“Well, not quite a guest,” she corrected them. “The family I work for as governess was invited by Mr. Darcy. It has just been fortunate that I was included.”
“Oh, yes!” praised Mrs. Ketterling. “But such courtesy he extended to you today!” She turned to the others. “He escorted Miss Bennet out when we arrived and ensured her prodigious care.”
“Not something just any master would do!” exclaimed one of the guests. “He is certainly exceptional!”
Elizabeth was tempted to inform them that they had once been acquainted, but decided against it, for she did not wish to incite any questions. She listened with interest as they began to tell stories of Mr. Darcy, his late father, and Pemberley.
There was one, in particular, that captured her notice.
“You remember the Danville picnic?”
Everyone chuckled. “Poor, young Mr. Darcy. He must have been in his early twenties, was he not?”
“Yes, we all felt sorry for the young man.”
“Why did you feel sorry for him?” asked Elizabeth.
They began to relate the tale, everyone contributing what they recollected.
She was told that the Danvilles had a very nice estate about ten miles away. The young Mr. Darcy was recently home from school, and he and his father and sister had been invited to the picnic. It was quite a lavish affair and the Danvilles had to hire a great deal of extra help. Several people from Lambton were hired for the occasion, a few who were dining with her that very evening.
“This was one of the first gatherings that the young Mr. Darcy attended since returning from Oxford,” one of the ladies, Mrs. Stanfield, said. “He had left a young man of medium stature, rather scrawny and shy, and returned a tall, muscular, handsome young man. He turned many a lady’s head, he did.”
Another added, “His father, who had begun at that time to tire easily, had gone to sit with his friends, while his son held Miss Darcy’s hand to take her over to some children’s games and amusements that were taking place. She could have been no more than ten years old. As he walked through the crowd, the heads were turning and the tongues were wagging about how much he was worth, how well he looked, and what a privilege it would be to be Mistress of Pemberley!”