I almost didn’t see him.
Nearly passed right by those handsome features, noble mien, and that shock of dark hair falling becomingly over his forehead.
You’d think I’d have been on the lookout. Kept my eyes peeled wide open.
I was in his house, after all.
Pemberley. Or, em, Chatsworth, which is what the place is really called. Chatsworth, not Pemberley, though it’s quite the grandest house in all of Derbyshire, and most certainly the place Jane Austen had in mind for this favourite literary hero, if the experts have it right.
Yes, there I was, at Pemberley, and I nearly missed my chance to meet Mr. Darcy because I had my eyes on the gift shop. The gift shop. Coasters and tea towels, and things like that.
But John called my name, and I swung round
and there he was.
Just waiting.
He even posed for a picture.
“But that’s not the real Mr. Darcy!” you may be muttering, or even shouting at the screen.
Well, I was at the other Mr. Darcy’s house too (Lyme Hall in Cheshire)! BBC fans, you may now breathe a sigh of relief.
Only there, I didn’t see him.
Though I did see this fair prospect . . .
I laugh a little now.
I almost didn’t see Mr. Darcy!
And oh, doesn’t it seem just a world away.
Not only that we’re in America and can’t just pop down to England to see Elizabeth and Darcy and all our other favourites like we did when we lived in Scotland.
But even having time to think about it all. To dream.
Finding time to put two of my own thoughts together seems like a luxury these days, what with all the loving I’m blessed to pour out on my three precious little men and their daddy.
The making of tea and the making of beds. The raiding of the kitchen and the cleaning it up. The folding and folding and folding of laundry, and the trying to find the time to put it away. The potty accidents to clean up, the littlest one to pick up, and the trying to look above and through it all to find just what gifts there are in today.
But it’s worth it, I’d say.
Worth taking time for stories.
Worth taking time to be still and (with a cup of tea!) examine and consider the finer, the truly beautiful and good.
And it’s worth, most of all, taking time to be with Him.
To be with Jesus.
How many times do I race through my day with my eyes on the gift shop? On running my errands, making my phone calls, and leaving my house at least as clean as it was that morning?
But how would it be if I took more time to look for treasures along the way?
To realize there is someone far nobler, realer, and more beautiful than even Mr. Darcy?
Someone who’s not just waiting, but knocking.
Knocking at my door, knocking on my heart,
and not just to pause for a picture,
but to spend the day with me.
JEREMIAH 29:13
You will seek Me and find Me when you search for Me with all your heart.
Avonlea x
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Aw, who wants to see Darcy anyway!
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Hee hee, plenty of people, I’d say! But I was quite happy seeing his house π
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Did you like him after seeing his house?
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I think you’ll have to ask Elizabeth Bennet about that π
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Well, how do I go about that?
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Why, you must read Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. Of course.
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Love this entry! My friend and I visited Chatsworth for the first time this summer, and I am sad to say, I missed Mr. Darcy. But I love how you tied it together with how we rush through our lives. Jeremiah 29:13 is one of my favorite scriptures, and I love that you managed to pair Mr. Darcy and Jesus together in one post! Thanks for sharing π
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I’m so pleased you got to visit Mr. Darcy’s home π and presumably a lot of other lovely, lovely places on my dear green island. I am also so very, very pleased that you stopped by my blog. I hope you will return!
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[…] « Mr. Darcy and Me – My Trip to Pemberley […]
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Now I have to watch Pride and Prejudice again, for the 30th time! I love hearing about your life overseas.
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It’s always time for P&P and tea β€
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