Page 58 of First Impressions
“I’m Mrs. Grace; it’s lovely to meet you.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Beth turned aroundand stared at Darcy’s housekeeper, who had been so kind to her just a few weeks earlier. She felt the color drain from her face, as she quietly introduced herself, again, to the older woman. Thankfully, Mrs. Grace seemed to understand that she was with her boss and didn’t mention their prior encounter, acting as though they were meeting for the first time.
Then it hit her.Darcy owns this house. This is his home.This was the family home that Mrs. Grace had referred to the last time, the one that he barely spends any time at.
This would have been your home, too.
Of course, she would feel at home in his family home. The thought made her sick and she felt her heart breaking all over again. Before her mind had a moment to adjust to that, another thought blossomed in her head.
“Is Mr. D—, ahh, the owner of the house here?” She asked anxiously, “We were told that he wouldn’t be in residence today.”
“Yes, well, there was a slight change of plans. The estate foundation should have emailed you this morning to reschedule the tour but now that you are here, I would hate for you to have to come back.”
He was here.This couldn’t get any worse. They had to leave. If he saw that she was here, he’d think she was stalking him or something and he clearly wanted nothing else to do with her.
She quickly checked her phone and sure enough, there was an email asking to reschedule the tour to next weekend.
“Great, that would be wond—”
“It’s no problem. We can come back, that’s really fine,” Beth interrupted Phil, who gave her a questioning stare that she refused to meet, keeping her eyes trained behind Mrs. Grace, expecting Darcy to appear at any moment.
“Oh no, dear, it’s ok. Mr. William is in residence this weekend but he’s not here at the moment so I can give you anabbreviated tour of the house and gardens, if that would be sufficient,” Mrs. Grace responded kindly and Beth sensed the hint of reassurance in her tone that suggested she knew that Beth didn’t want to run into her boss right now.
As Mrs. Grace had promised, there was no sign of Darcy as she took them through the house. That didn’t stop Beth’s heart from beating out of her chest every time they moved on to a different room, expecting to walk in and find him sitting in a chair, or even worse, find him sitting and talking with another woman.
Once they entered a room, she became momentarily engrossed in the history that Mrs. Grace relayed to them, about the Rockefellers who had built the house and modified it over the generations. They toured the study and the women’s sitting room - both directly inside the main entrance. They moved on to the ‘music’ room, which was really a living room with a piano. It had an oculus or opening in the ceiling that allowed one to look down into the room from the second floor.
“So, this room is lovely for entertaining as it sits in the center of the house and has access to two other sitting rooms as well as directly to the outside patio and gardens,” Mrs. Grace elaborated. “It is also Miss Georgiana’s favorite room in the home - that is Mr. William’s younger sister.” Here she paused and pointed to a portrait hanging on the wall behind the piano of a very beautiful young lady with blond hair and the same chocolate eyes as her older brother.
“That was done a few years ago but Mr. William had it placed in this room for her because she is an avid piano player and will practice all hours of the day and night when they are in residence.” She chuckled to herself, obviously very fond of the young girl - who was probably around Lydia’s age, twenty or so, by now. “She’s not too fond of the portrait anymore so, to retaliate, she keeps this photo of a young Mr. William on top of the piano for her to look at while she practices.” She pulled the picture frame off of the Steinway baby grand piano to show them.
He looked so carefree, so unlike the Darcy she knew. The photo was obviously taken when he was much younger,before whatever happened in his past, before his father died; he only looked maybe twelve or thirteen in the picture.
“He was such a happy boy, always very kind and generous. I’m proud to say that those traits have not changed over the years regardless of the many successes or trials that he has faced,” Mrs. Grace continued, drifting off into her memories of Darcy the boy.
“This is a great space, I agree. Especially for a cocktail hour, it can support a large bar and then if the event is outside, there is direct access, or if the weather is unfavorable, we could utilize the other rooms in the house,” Phil agreed, thinking out loud.
Beth was more focused on the personal details that Mrs. Grace was revealing about Darcy and his family. She hadn’t even taken out her notepad since they arrived; work was the last thing she could think about right now.
They moved on through the China room, where there were at least ten different sets of fine-China on display, and then into the original kitchen.
“Now this is purely for the visitors that come through. There is a commercial grade kitchen in the basement where the chef cooks when we stay for an extended period. However, for short trips like this, I do most of the cooking when needed.”
Interesting. He wasn’t planning on staying here long.
“Now, for events, you are welcome to bring in your own chef and catering team, or our resident chef can work with you to create a menu that we can make and serve, whichever you or your clients prefer.”
Through the kitchen, they followed Mrs. Grace into the dining room. As she entered the room Beth found herself staring into Darcy’s deep brown eyes. Thankfully, it was only at the portrait of him hanging on the wall behind the table, and not the real thing because even just the painting had shivers running down her spine.
“So as you can see that is the owner, Mr. William Darcy, and then on this side of the table, we have the portrait of his father who originally purchased the house from the Rockefellers.” He had his father’s eyes, that was for sure.
Mrs. Grace’s voice faded into the background as she and Phil moved on to the neighboring sitting room that led out to the back patio. Beth, however, felt like her feet were rooted to the floor as she stared into Darcy’s eyes, wondering if this was the last time she would see them.
Tearing her eyes from the painting, she quickly wiped the lone tear that trailed down her cheek as she walked into the sitting room in search of Phil and Mrs. Grace. The room was small in comparison to everything else that they had seen but it was still probably larger than her own living room, Beth thought. Straight ahead it looked like there was another living room with multiple couches, but no sign of Phil or Mrs. Grace. She looked to her right, looking out the large open glass doors out onto the back patio seeing no evidence of them outside either. The bright sunshine and promise of a spectacular view drew her out through the door to the edge of the patio, where she could absorb the unobstructed view out over hundreds of acres of land straight to the sparkling Hudson River; the scene was idyllic.
She closed her eyes and relaxed against the banister breathing in deep the fresh, crisp summer air, feeling the cool breeze blowing against her back. For the first time in many weeks, she felt her shoulders drop as a sense of tranquility and peace came over her.You belong here;that’s what all her senses were telling her, but her mind knew that that was a near impossibility now.
