Elizabeth enjoyed their company, Rosalyn seemed disposed to speak only on the subject of which she could now openly discuss, and which solely would satisfy her—Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth opened her eyes when she noticed that the inside of the carriage had grown dim. Looking out the window, she saw that they were riding through a dense thicket of trees. The sun, approaching close to the horizon, sent diffused streaks of light through the thick cluster of foliage, little of which was reaching them. She shuddered as a coolness suddenly pervaded the carriage.
She pulled up a blanket to cover both her and Emily, who was still sleeping, and she noticed that Rosalyn was gazing out the window with wide eyes.
“We have entered Pemberley Woods,” Rosalyn uttered softly when she saw that Elizabeth had stirred. “It is even more beautiful than I remember.”
Elizabeth intertwined her fingers together, and her heart began to pound violently at those words. It seemed to be as loud as the rumble of the carriage travelling down the road. She took in a few slow breaths in a vain attempt to compose herself. Her own gaze turned to look out her window as she felt a blush creep upon her face—or perhaps it was turning white with alarm—so as not to let Rosalyn see the effect her words had on her.
Her eyes took in everything around her. She noticed a wide, briskly moving stream that seemed to dictate to the road its curves and turns and straight paths. Sometimes it disappeared behind the trees, and at other times it burst forth from those very trees as it continued on its way.
“I had no idea…” Elizabeth whispered as she drew the blanket more tightly about her.
“The woods will become less dense as we draw nearer the home.” Rosalyn spoke with a fervent hush, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. “I believe we shall see it first out your window, and then a turn in the road will bring it around to my side.”
Upon hearing voices, Emily stirred. As she stretched out her arms she asked, “Are we there yet?”
“Almost,” Rosalyn replied. “Look outside Miss Bennet’s window and watch for a magnificent home. We shall see it soon.”
Elizabeth kept her head turned toward the window. She dared not look at Emily for fear of what the young girl might read on her face.
They continued on for some time, expectation rising within each young lady in the carriage to catch the first glimpse of Pemberley. Elizabeth expected to see the home at every bend in the road, at the crest of every hill, but it was kept from their view. What she did see was delightfully beckoning mounds and valleys, a myriad of flora and fauna, and the ever-present stream urging them along.
The carriage slowed, and Elizabeth and Rosalyn looked at each other curiously. When Elizabeth turned back to the window, she gasped, for there in all its splendour was Pemberley. Situated majestically across a small crystal blue lake, it rose in stature and breadth in glorious prominence.
Emily squealed with excitement, and Rosalyn silently brought both hands up and covered her rapidly beating heart. A knock at the carriage door startled them all out of their reverie.
“Come, girls,” Mr. Willstone called. “Step out and take a look at the grand Pemberley before we make our way down the road to it.”
He helped each one out, and they joined Mrs. Willstone, who was already taking in its beauty.
“Look, Rosalyn,” she said as her sister drew to her side. “I am as much in awe of it today as I was when I was younger.”
“It is beautiful.”
They watched as the setting sun cast an ethereal golden hue across the stone edifice. The deepening oranges and reds of the clouds painted a rainbow palette of colours as it reflected on the lake at the front. A slight breeze stirred small white caps on the lake, distorting the mirrored image of Pemberley that extended down into the depths of the water.
Emily ran over to join her mother, who took her hand. Mrs. Willstone then
Elizabeth opened her eyes when she noticed that the inside of the carriage had grown dim. Looking out the window, she saw that they were riding through a dense thicket of trees. The sun, approaching close to the horizon, sent diffused streaks of light through the thick cluster of foliage, little of which was reaching them. She shuddered as a coolness suddenly pervaded the carriage.
She pulled up a blanket to cover both her and Emily, who was still sleeping, and she noticed that Rosalyn was gazing out the window with wide eyes.
“We have entered Pemberley Woods,” Rosalyn uttered softly when she saw that Elizabeth had stirred. “It is even more beautiful than I remember.”
Elizabeth intertwined her fingers together, and her heart began to pound violently at those words. It seemed to be as loud as the rumble of the carriage travelling down the road. She took in a few slow breaths in a vain attempt to compose herself. Her own gaze turned to look out her window as she felt a blush creep upon her face—or perhaps it was turning white with alarm—so as not to let Rosalyn see the effect her words had on her.
Her eyes took in everything around her. She noticed a wide, briskly moving stream that seemed to dictate to the road its curves and turns and straight paths. Sometimes it disappeared behind the trees, and at other times it burst forth from those very trees as it continued on its way.
“I had no idea…” Elizabeth whispered as she drew the blanket more tightly about her.
“The woods will become less dense as we draw nearer the home.” Rosalyn spoke with a fervent hush, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. “I believe we shall see it first out your window, and then a turn in the road will bring it around to my side.”
Upon hearing voices, Emily stirred. As she stretched out her arms she asked, “Are we there yet?”
“Almost,” Rosalyn replied. “Look outside Miss Bennet’s window and watch for a magnificent home. We shall see it soon.”
Elizabeth kept her head turned toward the window. She dared not look at Emily for fear of what the young girl might read on her face.
They continued on for some time, expectation rising within each young lady in the carriage to catch the first glimpse of Pemberley. Elizabeth expected to see the home at every bend in the road, at the crest of every hill, but it was kept from their view. What she did see was delightfully beckoning mounds and valleys, a myriad of flora and fauna, and the ever-present stream urging them along.
The carriage slowed, and Elizabeth and Rosalyn looked at each other curiously. When Elizabeth turned back to the window, she gasped, for there in all its splendour was Pemberley. Situated majestically across a small crystal blue lake, it rose in stature and breadth in glorious prominence.
Emily squealed with excitement, and Rosalyn silently brought both hands up and covered her rapidly beating heart. A knock at the carriage door startled them all out of their reverie.
“Come, girls,” Mr. Willstone called. “Step out and take a look at the grand Pemberley before we make our way down the road to it.”
He helped each one out, and they joined Mrs. Willstone, who was already taking in its beauty.
“Look, Rosalyn,” she said as her sister drew to her side. “I am as much in awe of it today as I was when I was younger.”
“It is beautiful.”
They watched as the setting sun cast an ethereal golden hue across the stone edifice. The deepening oranges and reds of the clouds painted a rainbow palette of colours as it reflected on the lake at the front. A slight breeze stirred small white caps on the lake, distorting the mirrored image of Pemberley that extended down into the depths of the water.
Emily ran over to join her mother, who took her hand. Mrs. Willstone then
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