Sally O'Rourke - The Man Who Loved Jane Austen

Walking to the bed she sat down and looked around the room, taking note of the lush rolling hills outside the window. Sitting here in this exquisite old house, wearing a ridiculous but beautiful vintage gown she really did feel like Alice in Wonderland. Were there mushrooms in the salad? Laughing at herself she decided that this would be a good time to see more of the estate. With Jenny gone off on some Rose Ball business she was alone and free to walk the beautiful grounds of Pemberley.

The sun was sinking behind the stables as Faith and Darcy watched a team of gardeners placing ornamental pots filled with crimson roses along the drive. Though Darcy had intended to return immediately to Eliza after taking care of a few pressing matters related to the ball, several hours had passed during which Faith had professed that no detail could possibly proceed without his personal approval.

Eliza had changed into jeans and a T-shirt after finally collecting herself. She had to keep her wits about her; fresh air and a change of scene would help. She had told Darcy that she wanted to paint some of the vistas he’d shown her and this might be the perfect time to take advantage of the opportunity to commit some of Pemberley’s magnificent views to paper; she took her sketch pad from the leather portfolio and headed downstairs and out into the warm afternoon air.

Wandering the magnificent estate Eliza tried in vain to reconcile Jenny’s logical theory of Darcy’s obsession with his own bizarre tale of time travel. Jenny’s idea was far more rational but Fitz’s story seemed to have the ring of truth to it, although maybe she was just being swept away by the romance of the whole thing. Trying to keep her wits about her, she walked down to the lake at the bottom of the broad lawn.

Smiling to herself at the absurdity of the situation, she lay down in the soft grass on the shore of the small lake and watched puffy clouds float above her in the hot summer sky. She realized that she welcomed the temporary respite from the intensity of Darcy’s narrative, the incredible details of which continued to swirl through her mind, embellished by her own vivid imagination.

Though she found it quite impossible to take seriously her soft-spoken host’s account of his accidental trip into the past and his subsequent encounter with Jane Austen, Eliza was nevertheless intrigued by the handsome millionaire.

She felt a sudden flush of heat rising to her cheeks as she recalled the intensity with which Darcy had gazed up at her when she had stepped onto the balcony of the Rose Bedroom.

She smiled inwardly; Jerry wouldn’t have been capable of such a smoldering look. And yet, with Darcy, that look of barely restrained passion had seemed almost natural. It must be the way, she imagined, that he looked at all women and was perhaps the reason poor Faith found him so irresistible. For certainly nothing had passed between him and Eliza to indicate that it was a look reserved exclusively for her.

She reflected that, his strange obsession aside, Fitzwilliam Darcy was possibly the most fascinating and attractive man she had ever met. “Careful now,” Eliza cautioned herself as she found a comfortable place to sit by the lake, “you’re already beginning to sound like Jenny. Fitz Darcy may be a hunk and an extremely nice one at that, but the bottom line seems to be that the poor guy is just slightly out of his tree. Besides, this is real life, not a romance novel.”

Romance wasn’t likely to happen here anyway. There was an aloofness, a standoffishness in him that Eliza suspected was often taken for arrogance. Jenny had theorized that the loss of the three people he was closest to—his grandmother, father and mother—before he was eighteen had made him wary of intimate relationships. The pain of loving and losing again was simply not worth the risk. That was something with which Eliza could easily understand and sympathize.

She had determined after the death of her father that she would never again love anyone that much and realized now it was the reason that the only relationships she’d allowed herself had been like the one with Jerry. Completely unsatisfying. But now, as Darcy’s face drifted through the clouds, she questioned that decision. Maybe happiness with someone you love, who loves you in return, was worth the risk of pain.

Shaking off the daydreams Eliza plunged her feet into the still water of the lake and started drawing.

While Eliza was thus engaged, Jenny, who had taken an immediate liking to the high-spirited New York artist, had already decided it would be good for Darcy to develop a relationship with her. She suspected that Eliza might just be the right woman to bring him out of the shell he’d inexplicably slipped into three years ago. Having made up her mind, Jenny, who despite her Southern Baptist upbringing had the soul of a Jewish yenta, set out to promote the relationship in any way she could.

Faith’s painfully obvious maneuvers to keep the couple separated throughout the afternoon had resulted in the artist going off by herself while Faith had ensnared Darcy in a series of increasingly mundane tasks. Now, as the gardeners finished aligning the planters along the drive, Jenny stood nearby, determined to block Faith’s next move.

The blonde socialite was ticking off items on a clipboard for Darcy as Jenny edged closer to listen in.

“The driveway roses are done,” Faith was saying. She blew a stray wisp of hair from her carefully made-up face and adopted a martyred look. “Of course,” she added wearily, “I’ve got a thousand things left to do.”

“You’re doing just great,” Darcy said, consulting her clipboard and pointing out two more items for her to check off. “We’ve now got all the carriages rolling and ready for tomorrow, and Lucas and his men are setting up a trough and feed supplies for the horses at the gatehouse.”

He paused and looked around, suddenly aware of the lengthening shadows falling across the lawns. “Have you seen Miss Knight?” he asked.

Fearful of resorting to outright lying, especially when it was likely that she would be immediately found out, Faith reluctantly pointed toward the small lake at the bottom of the lawn. “I believe I saw your little guest walking down to the lake a while ago,” she peevishly allowed.

Darcy scanned the lakeshore and spotted Eliza sitting by herself on a cluster of rocks at the water’s edge.

“She looks like such a solitary soul,” Faith observed in a mock pitying tone. “To tell you the truth, Fitz, I don’t think that girl cares for company at all.”

Ignoring the remark, Darcy turned and started walking toward the lake. “I’ll just go down and see if she needs anything,” he said.

Faith hurriedly fell into step beside him. “I’ll go with you, then,” she offered as sweetly as she knew how. “After all, we wouldn’t want poor little Eliza to feel neglected.”

Darcy started to protest but he was interrupted by Jenny, who suddenly came running down from the house. “Oh, Faith, there you are!” she called with evident relief in her voice. “I have been looking everywhere .”

Faith screwed up her pink, doll-like features into an approximation of a disbelieving scowl. “For me?” she asked suspiciously.

Jenny nodded urgently. “There’s a crisis with the seating chart for tomorrow night’s dinner and I don’t trust anyone’s opinion but yours,” she lied. “It’s a matter of etiquette,” Jenny explained, setting the hook firmly.

Faith, who had long before set herself up as the final authority on all matters mannerly, especially as they related to the Rose Ball, was trapped. “Can’t it wait a little while?” she pleaded.