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“While that letter could never have altered the grand scheme of things, it did precipitate two potentially embarrassing incidents at my wedding and at the wedding of my cousin to the princess. I like to be able to count on my friends, Bingley. I certainly do not expect them to be my enemies.”

“I understand, Darcy. I will have a serious talk with Caroline. But as to Miss Bennet, do you know when she will be returning from Hertfordshire? I merely ask so that I might know whether I should ride to Longbourn or present myself at Cheapside.”

“I expect them to return tomorrow evening, Bingley.”

“Very well, I shall wait on Miss Bennet at Cheapside if you would be so good as to give me her direction.”

“I hardly know it myself, Bingley, but Farley will be able to inform you.”

“As to this letter...,” said Bingley. “Do you mind if I keep it?”

“Of course not, Bingley. I certainly do not wish to keep it.”

“Thank you, my friend! I hope soon to call you brother! Let me shake your hand! I will see to this at once! Oh, I have a thousand things to do!”

After grasping Darcy’s hand firmly, Bingley was off with a bound.

Shortly after, Finn returned to the study. “Are you ready for your exercise, sir? I believe that once we are finished with the machine, Mr Trevor should have sufficient water in the pool to allow you to try it.”

Having got through the mire of the disclosure of her marriage to her mother, Elizabeth had spent the morning following Mary’s wedding walking around the Longbourn estate with Harry and Charlotte, viewing the improvements made by the bailiff. Sagging gates had been restored, fences mended and the chimney of one of the tenant’s cottages relieved of an old starling’s nest. Elizabeth could only admire Harry’s dedication and energy. Afterwards in the barn, Elizabeth had showed Harry how the plow was harnessed, to the best of her memory, for Old Matthew had died in the new year and his two offsiders were in dispute on how it should be done. Together they had worked out that a piece was missing—taken to the blacksmith for repair after last year’s sowing and no doubt forgotten there following Old Matthew’s passing.

Elizabeth would have liked to have spent more time with Harry; they had to rush through everything. But the Gardiners needed to return to London in the afternoon, for Mr Gardiner had multiple business commitments to fulfil. Over lunch Mrs Bennet fell back into her old habit of complaining; the frenetic energy that had galvanised her mood in the lead-up to Mary’s wedding having passed away. How would she manage with her three eldest gone? She needed to lighten her mourning, but she hardly had a farthing to spend on new clothes. The carriage needed to be taken out more often and Mr Collins had insisted they pay for the hay and straw they took from the tithe barn. Could not her brother Gardiner spare a little more money? He no longer had Lizzy on his hands. And perhaps Mr Darcy could invest in his business? With ten thousand a year he must hardly know what to do with his riches.

Proceeding in front of Georgiana, these last speculations were so mortifying to Lizzy that she offered to stay another week at Longbourn to support her mother and help with the estate, although she knew Darcy would not be happy with another put off. When the Gardiners pointed out that Elizabeth’s first obligation was to her new husband, Jane calmly stepped into the breech. She would stay to lift her mother’s spirits during the transition period, returning to London after one of Mr Gardiner’s visits. This the Gardiners readily agreed to, knowing that Mrs Bennet’s anxiety for Jane’s prospects would soon outweigh any crotchets over Mary’s disappearance and cause her to thrust Jane back into London Society. It also solved a minor dilemma that had been raised at breakfast—as to when Jane should transfer from the Darcy carriage to the more crowded Gardiner carriage on the way home.

Shortly after lunch, the visitors departed for London. Elizabeth had to dab at a tear that pooled in the corner of her eye when she parted from Jane, their hug evoking the memory of their last parting at Longbourn when Jane had climbed into the carriage to take up the governess position with the Garths. The place occupied by Jane’s trunk on the forward journey was taken by an old trunk of Mr Bennet’s from his Oxford days, which was appropriately filled with his books on the classics bequeathed to Lizzy. Thus were the last of Elizabeth’s possessions removed from Longbourn.

As the carriage stood with the horses champing at the bit, Mrs Bennet begged Lizzy to drive out to Longbourn for the day with her new husband whenever she could, including Georgiana in the invitation and grasping Georgie’s hand through the carriage window. Having enlisted her aunt’s support to apprise her mother quietly before lunch of her husband’s illness, Lizzy replied that any visit would depend on the pace of Darcy’s recovery. They would assuredly visit on their journey north to Darcy’s estate, though whether that would occur in the spring, summer or later, it had not yet been decided.

Finally, they were off. As they passed through the gates, Lizzy felt something tear inside her—her connection with Longbourn diminished, perhaps severed. She acknowledged herself no longer its absentee caretaker, though she had promised to continue corresponding with Charlotte. Longbourn’s future mistress and Harry had things well in hand. The baton had already been passed.

Elizabeth was in a reflective and uncharacteristically maudlin mood for the first half of the journey—poor company. But an amusing contretemps between an ostler and the occupants of a carriage in St Albans dispersed the cloud. She spent the remainder of the journey questioning Georgiana on her impressions of Longbourn.

They arrived home shortly before sunset to be welcomed wholeheartedly by Darcy who had waited downstairs for them. Dinner was spent relaying news of the wedding. Darcy was glad to hear his new sister appeared to have married an estimable young man, though he could not even recall Mary’s appearance, only the fact that her performance on the pianoforte was far inferior to Georgiana’s, a comparison that he wisely kept to himself. Nor could he remember Mr Elliot, having attended church in Meryton during his stay at Netherfield. Although Lizzy could recall two sedate evening parties when they had both been present, the clergyman might as well have been invisible on those occasions as far as Darcy was concerned. And that, thought Darcy ironically, would likely be the way Mr Elliot would remain, for although his hope of walking again increased daily, Darcy’s sight had improved not one iota. Finally, Lizzy noted a physical resemblance between Mr Elliot and Calhoun, Darcy’s friend from Cambridge, and Mary’s new husband at last gained an aspect in Darcy’s mind.

After dessert, Georgiana stifled a yawn and begged their pardon—the journey had tired her. She wished them both goodnight. Thankful for his little sister’s consideration, Darcy reached out to Elizabeth.

“I missed you so much. It is good to have you finally here beside me.”

“I missed you too,” replied Elizabeth, grasping his hand, “although perhaps my mother missed you even more.”

Darcy smiled at her joke. “She accepted my apologies?”

“We did not disclose the marriage until after Mr Collins had left for Kent. It shames me to say it, but we did not think we could trust Mama not to make a song and dance about it, possibly even boast about it to Charlotte and my cousin as a petty revenge. We explained you were recovering from a serious illness and were not able to make the journey yet yourself. She looks forward to the notice in The Morning Post. She will forgive you everything if you drive with her down the main street of Meryton with two servants standing up behind, perhaps stopping at the butcher’s, baker’s and haberdashery, so that she can make several large orders.”

Darcy smiled at Elizabeth’s raillery. “We cannot choose our relatives. You have already experienced the worst of mine. I think I can survive a trip down the main street of Meryton.”

Leaning forward, Elizabeth pecked Darcy’s cheek for this noble sentiment, thinking his charity had come a long way since they had first met.

Darcy was in no way going to allow Lizzy to escape his proximity. Having captured her wrist, he planted a kiss there and began to work his way along her arm. He had not got much further than her elbow when Lizzy decided to make things easier for him by getting up and reseating herself upon his lap. Their encounter quickly turned into a very passionate interlude during which Darcy got as far as sliding the sleeve of Elizabeth’s gown off her shoulder before having other ideas.

“I want to show you something,” he breathed as he nipped at her neck.

Lizzy dared not ask what, but when Darcy slid the sleeve of her gown back onto her shoulder, she realised her mind had been travelling in a different direction to his. She dutifully removed herself from his lap. Darcy rang the bell three times to summon Farley and once to summon Finn while Elizabeth tidied her hair in the mirror above the sideboard.

When they descended towards the kitchens, Elizabeth wondered if Darcy had succumbed and bought a new closed stove for Mrs Flowers after all. But the door to the old coal cellar was soon opened to reveal a luxurious grotto containing Darcy’s new plunge pool.

“Well,” said Lizzy looking around. “These white tiles and polished wooden banisters are very crisp and sophisticated but Mr Trevor has fallen short in his decorating efforts. Surely this place lends itself to something more exotic from the Arabian Nights? My mother would soon set you right.”