A few minutes later, they were back at the Parsonage, and Charlotte climbed down, grateful to be in one piece, but also exhilarated. The burst of speed they had shared confirmed her new insights into the character of her neighbour, and she could not help mulling over the strangeness of the fact that the loss of her son had delivered to her a new friend – or rather, drawn friendship from the thin soil of distant acquaintance. For surely she could now count Miss de Bourgh a friend.

CHAPTER IX

AFTER THE OBLIGATORY AND OFFICIAL farewell visit to Rosings, on which occasion they were lectured on every aspect of their impending travels, from the packing of their trunks to the perils of hostelry salads, the journey was at last underway. Mr Darcy sent an excellent coachman and a sensible nursemaid, arranged for inns known for their wholesomeness, and the journey proceeded smoothly. Charlotte’s daughters were in high spirits throughout and fortunately, neither were sickened by the motion of the carriage. Charlotte herself had never before travelled so far, and was as much caught up in the novelty of all that they saw as her children. All three of them enjoyed observing and even counting the different buildings and properties they passed, from the oast houses of their native Kent, to ancient crooked and timbered alehouses, to handsome modern houses of stone set in parkland adorned with herds of deer. Charlotte was caught by the sense of time rolling backwards as they headed northwards, the signs of lush spring constantly freshening around them and the hawthorn hedges frothing more lavishly the further they travelled.

After three days of travel, excitement mounted as they entered Derbyshire, with the girls demanding to know if each moderately sized property was their destination. At last they were on the Pemberley estate – first climbing a slow incline, passing a handsome church, then winding their way down and across a shallow valley until the carriage rumbled across the bridge spanning the river in which the reflection of the house hung golden in the afternoon light.

It was indeed a sight to behold: a building of great size and elegance, constructed from stone the colour of glazed scones, it hid its history from the onlooker behind a modern façade, windows and pediments, but sculptural ornamentation from past centuries attested to its antiquity. The ground behind it rose steeply to a hanging wood, and to the east lay a lake that anticipated the curving river below. All was verdant and serene.