The Guest | F. Darcy

Chapter 12: Late Summer

Marshall Manor, Late Summer

Adele sighed, twirling the unopened letter between her fingers as she gazed out the window. The rolling green fields of Marshall Manor stretched endlessly before her, the late afternoon sun casting golden hues over the land. It had been months since she first arrived, seeking solace, purpose—perhaps even escape. In that time, much had changed.

Mary had eloped with James to Scotland, and Richard was now openly courting Elizabeth. Love seemed to be in abundance, though Adele hardly found it cause for celebration. Lydia, never one to be left behind in matters of excitement, had begged to accompany Colonel and Mrs. Forster to Brighton. Their father, relishing the rare prospect of peace, had granted permission without hesitation. Mrs. Bennet was delighted, Kitty was resentful, and Elizabeth... Elizabeth was deeply uneasy. Adele shared her concerns, but neither of them had spoken a word to the others about Wickham. Some truths were better left buried.

Of all her sisters, Elizabeth seemed to have the most to look forward to. In just a few weeks, she would embark on a summer journey with the Gardiners—and Richard, who, judging by his frequent letters, had an excess of free time and an even greater excess of fondness for "his darling Lizzie." Adele smiled faintly at the thought, tracing the words of his latest letter before slipping it into the drawer.

Not everyone was fortunate enough to have love blossom before them.

Jane had returned to Longbourn, but she was far from healed. In her last letter, Elizabeth had expressed her growing concern. "Lost looks, abrupt sighs, mumbled words... and that unmistakable lovelorn gaze whenever love is mentioned." London had done little to mend her heart. If anything, it had only deepened the wound.

Adele was no better.

She could distract herself during the day, filling her time with duties, conversation, and the quiet responsibilities of the household. But at night, when silence settled and the world quieted, she found herself just as lost as Jane. Lost looks, abrupt sighs, mumbles... She knew them all too well. She despised the weakness of it, yet she could not seem to escape.

With a sharp breath, she shut the drawer. Dwelling on the past served no purpose.

Lady Marshall had grown stronger since they arrived at the estate, her complexion healthier, her spirit more animated. The fresh country air, Adele's insistence on daily walks, and careful medicinal remedies had done their work. In time, she would recover fully. And then? Then Adele would no longer be needed. Her purpose here would end.

Adele did not allow herself to think of where she would go next.

Georgiana visited the manor every fortnight, but she remained unaware of Adele's presence. Each time the young girl arrived, Adele would retreat to her chambers, leaving Lady Marshall to keep her secret. Ellen had agreed, though not without question. When pressed for an explanation, Adele had finally relented, confessing everything—the love, the loss, the pain she could not quite name. Lady Marshall had wept for her, angered on her behalf, and held her as her own tears fell.

Adele had not realized how much she needed someone to share her burden until that moment.

Now, as she stepped away from the desk and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, she let out a steady breath. The sky outside had darkened into a twilight blue, the first stars appearing over the horizon. Somewhere in the distance, the world moved on, oblivious to her heartbreak.

She would move on too.

Eventually.

The news of Elizabeth and the Gardiners' impending visit had arrived two weeks prior, heralded by letters from both parties. Elizabeth, as always, had been unable to restrain her thoughts, filling pages with her simultaneous disappointment at the brevity of their travels and her elation at escaping her mother's relentless matchmaking, if only for a little while. It had already been decided that Jane—dear, dependable Jane—would remain behind to care for the children, allowing the others to enjoy their journey with ease.

Three days ago, another note had come from Elizabeth, brief but telling. They were at Lambton and would soon make their way to Marshall Manor. Though she did not state it outright, Adele knew what it meant. They had stopped at Pemberley.

Seated in the airy parlour, Adele relayed the message to Lady Marshall as they speculated on the precise path their guests might take. Her aunt, ever observant, gave her a shrewd, knowing look before speaking.

"Don't you wish you were with them, dear?"

Adele glanced up sharply, caught off guard by the suggestion. "I do not. I have no wish—"

A firm knock at the door interrupted her, and she exhaled, relieved for the excuse to abandon the subject.

Lawrence, the ever-dignified butler, stepped inside, holding a folded letter in his gloved hand. His gaze flickered briefly toward Adele before settling on Lady Marshall. "My ladyship, a message has just arrived." He hesitated for the briefest of moments, then continued. "Mr. Darcy seems to be arriving here soon."

The words struck her like a blow.

Adele felt her breath catch, her pulse stuttering before racing wildly. She had known this day would come. She had spent months pretending she was safe here, that she could avoid him indefinitely. But deep down, she had always known that he would find her eventually.

The room around her seemed smaller now, the walls pressing inward as panic crept through her veins.

Before she could fully process the moment, another figure appeared in the doorway. A footman, bowing respectfully. "Mr. Darcy has arrived, my ladyship."

Adele's hands curled into fists at her sides. Across from her, Lady Marshall was watching her intently, amusement barely concealed beneath her composed expression.

"I shall leave the parlour then," Adele murmured, her voice steadier than she expected. "I do not feel well today."

Lady Marshall raised a single brow, unimpressed.

But as Adele turned to make her escape, Lawrence, standing by the door, spoke again—lower this time, as if reluctant to disappoint her.

"The gentleman is just behind the door."

She froze.

Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. There was no time. If she stepped into the hallway now, she would run straight into him.

But Adele was not without her own resources. She inhaled sharply and pivoted on her heel, heading instead for the hidden servants' passage she had memorized long ago. As she slipped through the discreet doorway, she cast one last glance over her shoulder, offering Lady Marshall a playful smirk.

"Behave, Lady Marshall."

Then, she was gone.