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“Why! It is Miss de Bourgh’s dollhouse! Or I should say Lady Stanley’s!”

Georgiana burst out giggling.

“Of all the take-ins!” exclaimed Lizzy. “Neither of you said a word when the dollhouse was built!”

Darcy chuckled. “Did you not think it strange that I should have a set of plans lying around for Mr Petit to copy?”

“I thought you had just borrowed some plans from your architect. How odious of you to keep it a secret!” scolded Elizabeth.

Georgie laughed. “We wanted it to be a surprise!”

“And did your cousin realise you were giving her a scale model of your countryseat?” asked Elizabeth.

“Oh, certainly!” replied Georgie. “She asked me to arrange the furniture just as we have it now. She only had vague memories of visiting as a child, but she recognised several distinctive pieces like the long clock in the vestibule.”

“So that was all copied too?”

“Indeed,” said Darcy, “Mrs Flowers requested the inventory from Mrs Reynolds, and Georgie identified similar pieces of furniture from catalogues supplied by Finn. I must admit I thought it very apposite.”

“Well!” said Elizabeth, shocked that so much time had been devoted to a project under her very nose without her suspecting the least thing. “What a couple of sneaks you are!” And then, forgiving them for their secretiveness, she tried to be more admiring of their ingenuity. “I suppose it is nice that Lady Stanley has a reminder of her relatives, particularly if she is too delicate to make the journey any longer,” offered Elizabeth.

“Moreover,” said Darcy, his lips curling into the cherubic smile Elizabeth was beginning to know well, “she is now mistress of Pemberley as Aunt Catherine always wanted.”

Georgie’s mouth opened in an ‘Oh!’ as the joke finally dawned on her while Elizabeth suppressed a wry smile.

“You think you are very smart, don’t you?” Elizabeth teased.

“Yes, I do,” Darcy replied imperturbably.

Georgie responded with a shout of laughter. After admiring the prospect once more, Elizabeth suggested they waste no time in acquainting themselves with the interior. Returning to the carriage, they descended the drive, reaching the bottom of the steepest part just as the light began to fail. Lizzy watched in awe as an incredible number of servants disgorged from the house to form two neat lines leading to the steps.

It was quite dark by the time they reached the house. The scene was lit only by the light leaking from the interior, several braziers that had been lit near the steps, and two torchères carried by footmen. When the carriage pulled up, an old woman wearing a lapel watch walked briskly to the carriage door and curtsied. As Darcy drew his rose-coloured glasses from his waistcoat, Elizabeth motioned for Georgie to alight first. Then she got down and waited to help her husband, but he easily managed the step with his cane to descend gracefully.

“How good to see you again, Mrs Reynolds!” said Georgie, starting forward and clasping the old woman like a relative.

“It has been such a long time, Miss Georgie,” said the housekeeper, returning the hug and shooting a surreptitious glance at Darcy. “I do hope your come-out went well.”

“I am not married!” said Georgie, somewhat triumphantly, “but brother is! You did not expect that, did you?”

“I am not sure why I should not have,” said the housekeeper defensively before turning her gaze once more upon Darcy. “Welcome back to Pemberley, sir.”

“It is good to be back, Reynolds,” said Darcy, somewhat stiffly. “May I introduce my wife, Mrs Elizabeth Darcy, née Bennet, of Longbourn in Hertfordshire. We met when I accompanied Bingley and his sisters to his estate.”

Mrs Reynolds curtseyed again. “Mrs Darcy.”

Elizabeth returned her sunniest smile but was increasingly aware of a strange tension amongst all those assembled, chiefly emanating from her husband. She realised that this was the first time Darcy had fronted his servants in Derbyshire without his sight. No doubt, the servants had been made aware that their master had fallen gravely ill on the Continent. It occurred to her that the emergence of Trixie, who was likely still asleep under the carriage seat, might usefully be employed to dispel the tension when there was a shout near the end of the line of servants. A scrabbling of claws on gravel heralded the approach of Cromwell, who came pelting between the two lines of servants like Jehu at a military parade. He was distantly followed by a servant boy who had no hope of catching him. Realising the animal’s destination, a footman made an unsuccessful lunge at the dog who reared up in front of his master. As if he could see, Darcy reached out to grab the dog’s paws in mid-air before they descended on his lapels to besmirch his topcoat.

“Yes, Cromwell. I am glad to see you too. But down, boy.”

With a feint, Cromwell managed to plant a lick on Darcy’s face anyway before subsiding onto his haunches with a bark to pant happily. Laughter burst from the relieved servants, nicely breaking the ice.

It was at this moment that Trixie poked her head from the carriage to see what all the excitement was about. When Cromwell darted forward to investigate the interloper, Elizabeth grabbed at his collar, knowing something of his temperament and fearing for her pup. But the dogs merely sniffed each other’s noses. When Darcy found Cromwell’s collar by first laying his hand on his rump, he took hold of the larger dog from Elizabeth so she could pick Trixie up.

“This is Trixie, Cromwell,” introduced Elizabeth, “and you must be friends.”

Trixie gave the larger dog a lick. It seemed the friendship was well on its way to being established.

“You must be tired, Mrs Darcy,” said Mrs Reynolds. “It is a long way from Hertfordshire.”