“I do not wish to speak to him again!” Lizzie called out as I nearly resorted to dragging her by the hem of her skirt straight through Mr. Darcy’s green-pigmented grounds.
“Lizzie, you will have to face him eventually.” My attempts at reasoning were futile, slipping away from my lips and into the turbulent air of Pemberley. It was evident that she would much sooner take a tumble into the reflective lake overlooking Mr. Darcy’s towering estate than face her most devoted rival.
“Nothing would give me more displeasure,” she bit back, clicking her tongue towards my distraught presence. From a stranger’s view point, it would seem that Elizabeth was entirely adamant in her hatred in the man. I could sympathize with her unrestrained emotions. In fact, to be perfectly frank, the prideful man always managed to make me uneasy. Just staring up at the handsome stone building, it felt as though Mr. Darcy’s own presence resided in this grassy patch of land. With this thought, I pulled my own shawl tighter around my figure – for protection or comfort, I am unsure. But I knew Lizzie – or at least I could comprehend a sense of her ever-changing temperament. Beyond her furrowed brows and her tightly gritted teeth, I managed to gather a touch of softness in her harsh language. Her impression of Mr. Darcy had certainly changed, but it was unclear as to how deep her true affections seemed to lie. Were they just below the surface, like the algae in Mr. Darcy’s lake or were they burrowed even deeper?
“You are too set in your ways, dear Lizzie. No one possesses the ability to change their own character in your eyes. I have found quite the opposite is true. One’s temper can be as unstable as the weather some days.”
“Then, how is it that I never see you break from your sullen disposition?” A smile bit at the side of my lips, tugging them slightly upward. I kept the movement confidential.
“I may not be that apt of an illustration of this particular idea, but I do have a second example.”
“And what that might be?”
“Well, our own dear Mr. Wickham, of course.” Emphasis is placed on this speech by a grand spectacle of swooning arms and exaggerated tones of voice. “We thought that he was quite the proper gentleman, but it turns out he is quite the proper fool.” Her laughter lit up the miserable whole of Pemberley, reaching to the depths of the lake and the heart of the broad woods.
With Elizabeth thoroughly distracted, I managed to draw her closer to the Mr. Darcy’s extravagant structure. To my surprise, she did not object. Perhaps her true feelings were shining through her indifferent attitude.
We ascended the grand marble staircases, her hand tightly enclosed in my own. Elizabeth had always been very strong and matter of fact, but in this instance, it was up to me to supply her strength.
The furniture within Pemberley was certainly rich, but it did not necessarily reek of unnecessary grandeur. However, soon they descended a hall of miniatures that seemed to accompany a certain air of arrogance. I could not help but notice Lizzie taking a particular interest in a miniature with features resembling her very own Mr. Darcy. I do not think it too hasty to refer to him as her Mr. Darcy. It was just a clear deduction that he was hers and she was his. Anything else would seem simply absurd.
With careful consideration, Elizabeth studied his stern brows and the stiff expression on his lips. A grin pulled at my own lips as I studied my dear friend lose herself in the appearance of her beloved. I only wished I too could have a similar experience, but alas, I seemed like my existence was ill with an angry rash of arrogant Mr. Wickhams and vexation Mr. Collins’. But still, a true good deed is that done in service of a dear friend.
With my friend clearly lost in her deep reverie, I decided to advance ahead in our exhibition of this great estate. Lizzie trailed behind me, clearly still affected by the sight of her Mr. Darcy, but trying not to let it affect her behavior. It was a good thing I decided to be the leader because I noticed him much before she herself did. I paused, allowing her to come up next to me before sending a quick kick to her lower calf, sending her flying into the strong and open arms of Mr. Darcy. Like I said, a true deed is that done in service of a dear friend.