The Guest | F. Darcy

Chapter 14: His Letter

"Aunt Ellen!" Adele scolded, her voice laced with disbelief as she turned to her aunt, who sat across from her with an air of complete innocence. "Why would you do that? I told you to behave!"

Lady Marshall, unbothered by the accusation, gave an exaggerated shrug. "I did nothing."

Adele scoffed, throwing up her hands. "You asked him if he enjoyed his visit to Rosings Park!"

"Yes," her aunt said, lifting her teacup to her lips with deliberate ease. "I might be curious about it."

"Lady Marshall! Georgiana never told you about his visit."

"She might have mentioned it before you arrived here," the older woman replied with feigned consideration.

"While you were in London? Sick enough not to even send a letter or read one?" Adele pointed out, arms crossing over her chest.

"Pshh, you have an answer for everything," Lady Marshall huffed, waving a dismissive hand. "It was only a harmless inquiry, and I am sure he thought nothing of it."

"You also asked if he saw Elizabeth and me while he was there!" Adele sighed heavily, feeling faint at the mere memory of it. She dropped onto the nearest stool, pressing a hand to her forehead. "The man must have been utterly flustered."

"He was not flustered," Lady Marshall corrected, "just a little pale."

"Aunt Ellen, you are awful," Adele muttered, exasperated. "Why would you do that?"

Lady Marshall set her teacup down with a quiet clink. "Because he hurt you."

Adele stilled, her lips pressing into a firm line. Her aunt's unwavering gaze softened, but Adele could not bear to hold it for long.

"Yes," she admitted, her voice quieter now, "but that does not make it right." She inhaled sharply, composing herself. "You should not have been so hostile. What if Georgiana stops coming here?"

Lady Marshall sighed and waved her off. "It will not happen. Do not worry so much, dear."

But Adele did worry. The day had already felt ill-fated from the moment she awoke, and now her frustration only grew. Perhaps she was simply on edge, her nerves still unsettled from overhearing yesterday's conversation between her aunt and Darcy. She had not had the opportunity to speak with Lady Marshall about it before now, as the woman had conveniently taken to her bed the moment Darcy departed, claiming to feel "under the weather."

She reached for her cup, taking a deep breath as she sipped the now lukewarm tea, willing herself to regain her composure. Her mind, however, refused to settle, drifting back to the inevitable truth she had been trying to ignore.

Darcy was in Derbyshire.

And, if what she suspected was correct, his presence in Pemberley meant Elizabeth would soon meet him again. The letter from Elizabeth had not explicitly named the party she traveled with, but Adele had no doubt the Bingleys were among them. The mere thought of Bingley, Darcy, and Elizabeth crossing paths once more—perhaps even walking the shaded paths of Pemberley's gardens together—sent a strange pang through her.

Just as she resolved to retreat to her room for some much-needed solitude, the sound of approaching footsteps broke through her thoughts. Lawrence, the ever-stoic butler, entered with the letter tray in hand. He gave his customary bow before turning to Lady Marshall.

"A horseman has just delivered this letter, madam."

Adele barely paid attention, absently running her fingers along the rim of her teacup. It was only when Lawrence continued that her fingers stilled.

"It is from Pemberley, as I have been told."

Adele's breath caught in her throat.

Her pulse quickened as Lady Marshall unfolded the letter, her frown deepening as she scanned its contents. Adele barely needed to ask—she knew whom it was from before her aunt even spoke his name.

"Mr. Darcy," Lady Marshall said, her voice edged with disbelief.

Of course, it was.

"He writes to inform me," Lady Marshall continued, eyes flicking over the letter, "that he had the fortune of encountering Miss Elizabeth and the Gardiners at Pemberley. They were visiting for a tour, and he was pleased they found it agreeable."

Adele exhaled slowly, pressing her palms against her lap to still the slight tremor in them.

"He also expresses his desire to visit again," Lady Marshall went on, now looking utterly displeased. "Tomorrow. With his entire party. Including the three individuals who are yet to arrive."

Adele gasped, her stomach twisting. She had expected Darcy's return to Pemberley to lead to something—but not this.

Lady Marshall promptly set the letter down with a sharp huff. "I am going to refuse."

"No," Adele blurted out, heart hammering in her chest.

Her aunt gave her a pointed look. "And why ever not?"

"What reason could we have to decline?" Adele countered, forcing her voice into calm neutrality. "It would reflect poorly if we refused such a polite request."

Lady Marshall folded her arms, unimpressed. "And what does he need to return here for? He never visited much when he lived in Pemberley permanently, and now he suddenly wishes to impress me? Just because he wants to marry my niece?"

Adele choked, her cheeks flaming. "Aunt Ellen! You should not assume such things!"

Lady Marshall only raised a knowing brow. "Then tell me, my dear, why else would he want to return?"

Adele did not know.

And that terrified her.

"If he knew I was here," she said at last, voice barely above a whisper, "I do not think he would be so eager to visit."

Lady Marshall hummed in doubt, unconvinced.

"Perhaps," Adele continued, grasping for another explanation, "it is Georgiana who wishes for the visit. She may have asked him to come."

Her aunt's frown did not lessen, but she sighed in resignation. "So, you wish for me to accept?"

No.

"You should," Adele said instead, her tone measured. "It would be rude to refuse."

Lady Marshall eyed her shrewdly. "And you will simply hide away again?"

"I will be in the gardens," Adele answered firmly.

Lady Marshall still did not look pleased, but after a moment of hesitation, she sighed. "Very well. You may write the response."

Adele nodded, already reaching for the ink and paper. She kept her hand steady, but as she penned the words that would allow Darcy's return, her pulse continued to race.

By tomorrow, Fitzwilliam Darcy would once again be standing at the doors of Marshall Manor.

And she was no longer certain she was prepared to face that reality.