THE ANTICIPATION FELT by her brother and sister in the chaise the next morning was so obvious that Georgiana’s dread began to fade into a calmer equanimity, and the first sights of the château and its expanse of formal gardens, orchards, and open fields further improved her spirits to something approaching pleasure as the horses clattered up the winding drive. The French appeared to have no love of Mr. Repton; the allée wound through a delightful, thick wood and ended abruptly, framing the imposing front of the château most agreeably. The drive terminated in a circle, in the centre of which was a magnificent mosaic of roses, delineated with lavender. On either side of the lawns rose carefully trimmed yew and box, arranged with a symmetry and beauty that exactly complemented the façade of the house. Flanking either side of the entrance were deep borders, again arranged in the most enchanting designs, and beautifully wrought gates through which could be seen several terraces and their ornately contrived steps.

Here was an home as beloved as Pemberley, and its charm and prospect was as worthy of its master. The familiarity with which the Comte himself met their chaise, helping the ladies down and fondly introducing his younger half-sister, made his guests easy at once. His modesty and true gentility, as Elizabeth praised the exquisite exterior of the château, was evident as he hurried away the compliment, the house and gardens being the work of previous generations for which he could take no credit—securing him in even higher estimation, if such were possible. After the Comte’s servants had shewn the Darcys to their chambers and all had rested a little from their journey, the party met in the drawing-room. The Comte lost no time in appropriating Mr. Darcy for the requisite gentlemen’s tour of the plantation’s piggeries, out-houses, kitchen garden with its conservatories, mushroom establishment, hot-beds, and the stables to admire the hunters and coach-horses, to which Mr. Darcy acquiesced with obvious pleasure. Elizabeth watched with delight as her husband left with the Comte—the two appeared to uncommon advantage together; Mr. Darcy’s reserve all but disappeared, a rare circumstance when he was in the company of other than his family.