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Georgiana had fallen asleep late, utterly fatigued.

She still carried the guilt of believing George Wickham's lies and felt uncertain about how to restore her brother's trust. She had not forgiven herself and was unable to confide her sadness in anyone.

Elizabeth, too, had retired late but rose at dawn.

With nothing pressing on her schedule, she slipped out through the back door and made her way to the stables.

As fate would have it, Oscar—Mr. Turner's loyal hound—was resting in the first pale sun of the morning.

Elizabeth took a seat on a nearby bench overlooking the small lake, and the old dog settled at her feet.

"You are up early this morning, Miss Bennet," said Mr. Turner, emerging from the stable.

He noted her pale complexion and offered a kind greeting.

"It is a habit, Mr. Turner. And you, too, have started your day early," Elizabeth replied gently.

She held a fondness for the Turners—he in the stables and his wife in the kitchen.

"Indeed, my dear Miss. We rise early whether we wish it or not.

My wife, Betty, is already baking fresh bread, and I must tend to the animals.

" Elizabeth had long appreciated the servants' labours at Longbourn, but now, working at Pemberley, she understood the depth of their daily responsibilities in a way she had never before realized.

"And where is Nora, the cat?" she asked with a friendly smile.

"She is sleeping in the kitchen, as close to the fire as she can get.

Betty treats her like a child," Mr. Turner said warmly, a hint of affection in his voice.

He and his wife, childless by circumstance, had lavished their love on the estate's animals, which had become their family in every sense.

"Oscar belongs to you now, sir?" Elizabeth asked, stroking the old dog's head.

"He does. He once belonged to a dear friend who sadly died of consumption last year.

Oscar went days without food until he adapted to life here.

He may never be the same—but he is better now.

He sleeps in the stable, though he once slept by his former master's bed.

Well, Miss Bennet, duty calls. Have a wonderful day.

" "You as well, Mr. Turner," she replied.

As she gazed at the gently rippling lake, thoughts of the past day and all she had resolved washed over her.

"Dear Oscar," she murmured, "we share much in common.

We both lost someone who loved and protected us.

And now we find ourselves in a house not our own, dependent—at least in part—on others' kindness.

" Last night's tears had brought clarity.

As she caressed Oscar, she took a deep breath.

'In a way, I must thank Mr. Darcy for reminding me of my place in this house.

I came here behaving like an honoured guest when, in fact, I am merely another member of the staff.

This has been a hard lesson, but one I shall not forget.

I have seen Mr. Darcy treat his servants with respect and fairness, and if I conduct myself like a servant, I shall, in turn, be treated with respect.

I shall not cause a scene like yesterday again.

' "Thank you for your company, dear Oscar, but I must return.

Georgiana will have risen by now, and I wish to see how she is faring.

Until tomorrow, my dear, beautiful friend.

" Elizabeth kissed Oscar's head and hurried back to the house via the kitchen, climbing the service staircase to Georgiana's room.

"Are you feeling any better, dear?" Elizabeth asked, finding Georgiana awake but despondent.

"I… I do not know, Lizzy…" Georgiana whispered before breaking into tears.

Elizabeth sat beside her and drew her into a gentle embrace.

She felt a pang of sorrow for that sweet but fragile girl.

"If you wish to speak of what troubles you, perhaps I can help," Elizabeth offered softly.

Georgiana looked at her friend and took a trembling breath.

"Lizzy, I fear I am not worthy of being a Darcy.

My brother is exceptionally accomplished—respected, successful in school, and skilled in riding and fencing.

He speaks, and people listen; his judgment is trusted…

And here I am, barely able to speak in company…

" Elizabeth waited patiently until Georgiana's sobs subsided.

"May I tell you a story?" she asked quietly.

Georgiana sniffled and nodded. "My sister Jane is, to me, one of the most graceful and beautiful women I have ever known.

" "You are very pretty too, Lizzy," Georgiana managed.

"Thank you," Elizabeth replied. "But Mother never thought so.

She praised Jane endlessly—sweet, accomplished—and referred to me as rebellious, warning no man would marry me if I did not change.

She was determined to secure wealthy husbands for us.

Her words filled me with insecurity. Over time, though, I realized I ought not to compare myself to Jane or anyone else.

I accepted myself—my untamed hair, big eyes, and pert remarks.

" Georgiana gave a small, shy laugh. "You do not need to compare yourself to Mr. Darcy.

You may admire his strengths, certainly—but you possess your own gifts.

Your talent for art is a marvel; you play the piano as beautifully as you draw and paint.

But most importantly, you have a kind, generous heart.

" Georgiana squeezed Elizabeth's hand. "Thank you, Lizzy.

I am not sure I deserve all that." "You do, Georgiana.

I lost my father a few months ago, and with him went financial security and a home.

I now work away from my mother and sisters.

Yet, in your presence, I feel not like a paid companion but a friend.

You have made me feel welcome here—so much so that I sometimes forget I am part of the staff.

You must never believe yourself unworthy of being a Darcy.

You are, and I believe your brother feels that, too.

" "Oh, Lizzy…" Georgiana sobbed anew, then pulled Elizabeth into a tight embrace.

"You are the best friend I have ever had.

Even if you are my companion, to me—you are so much more than that.

" "I am glad, dear," Elizabeth whispered.

"And remember: you need not compare yourself with your brother.

Men can choose what to do with their lives.

They inherit, study, and manage properties.

Women are rarely given any freedom." Georgiana sniffed and nodded.

"I understand. I shall call Molly to help me dress.

I am sure William awaits us at breakfast." "I have already had breakfast. I shall wait for you in the music room," Elizabeth said gently.

"But before I go, I must speak with you about something.

Georgiana, when we are in the presence of others, I shall address you as Miss Darcy.

" "No, Lizzy…" Georgiana began, her face troubled.

"My dear, I believe it best that we maintain the formality society expects of us," Elizabeth continued.

"In the eyes of others, I am responsible for accompanying you, for instructing and guiding you.

I am not, officially, your friend." "But, Lizzy—" "Please," Elizabeth said kindly but firmly, "I ask that you respect my decision.

You may continue to call me Lizzy if you wish.

I only hope you understand." Georgiana nodded reluctantly.

"Very well, if that is what you prefer." She could not help but suspect that her brother had said something to make Elizabeth uncomfortable.

He was a good man, but occasionally too severe in his expectations.

Elizabeth left and returned to her own bedroom to retrieve a few pieces of music.

She felt calmer now, reflecting that Miss Darcy reminded her of Kitty and Lydia, with their restless emotions and need for affection.

Yet, unlike her sisters, Georgiana lived in far greater solitude and longed for female companionship.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Reynolds had informed Mr. Darcy that Miss Darcy had initially refused to rise, claiming to feel unwell.

These moments always stirred deep anxiety in him.

There were days when Georgiana would remain in her room, withdrawn, barely speaking, and eating very little.

He had attempted patience, which yielded little progress.

When he tried to be firm, it only brought her to tears.

She was his only close family, and he cherished her beyond words.

He would do anything to see her happy again.

But Wickham had wounded her heart, and Mr. Darcy still did not know how to help her heal.

"Sir, Miss Darcy will be ready shortly," said Mrs. Reynolds.

"I shall serve breakfast in the small dining room.

" "Very well. As soon as I sign this letter, I shall join you.

I presume she has no fever?" "No, sir. Molly says she slept poorly but felt much improved after speaking with Miss Bennet," the housekeeper replied with a slight curtsy, then withdrew.

At the mention of Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy tensed.

He remembered the incident from the previous evening all too vividly—and regretted his conduct.

She had simply taken a book, and he had rebuked her as if she had committed some grave impropriety.

He had spent much of the night contemplating how to make amends.

At last, he had devised a plan, which he intended to propose at breakfast. As he made his way to the small dining room, he encountered Elizabeth in the hallway on her way to the music room.

"Miss Bennet, Mrs. Reynolds told me breakfast is to be served in the smaller dining room.

" "Good morning, sir. I had already taken my breakfast and informed Miss Darcy that I would wait for her in the music room.

We are preparing a piece to perform for your guests at the dinner later this week.

" Her tone was calm, respectful, and measured, and she avoided meeting his eyes—much as Mrs. Reynolds or Mr. Moore might have done.

Something in Elizabeth's manner disconcerted Mr. Darcy.

He was about to speak when Georgiana appeared bright and eager.

"William, I am famished. Let us have breakfast at once!

We have much to do with Lizzy today." "Miss Bennet," Darcy said, turning back to Elizabeth, "even though you have already dined, might you join us?

Perhaps some tea or coffee, if you prefer?

" "Of course, sir," she replied graciously and smiled at Georgiana.

Mr. Darcy was strangely disheartened. He had expected one of her quick remarks, perhaps even a reproachful look.

Instead, she was polite and reserved—so unlike the Elizabeth he had come to know.

Georgiana took her friend's arm and led her away, chatting merrily as they walked.

Breakfast proved lively. Elizabeth and Georgiana discussed the musical pieces they intended to rehearse that morning and the art lessons planned for the afternoon.

Mr. Darcy noticed that Elizabeth now addressed Georgiana as Miss Darcy, and though he was curious about the change, he refrained from commenting.

He did not wish to intrude upon their conversation.

Yet something had changed. Elizabeth appeared altered in a way he could not fully comprehend.

He had half expected her to be angry, but instead, she was composed and courteous—though distant.

Perhaps, after the unfortunate exchange in the library, she had come to accept that the gulf between them could never be bridged.

That, he told himself, was likely for the best. And yet, he could not bear for her to remain hurt or resentful.

He wished—sincerely—to make some gesture of reparation.

"Georgiana, Miss Bennet," he said at last, "if you might delay your drawing lesson this afternoon, I would be pleased if you would accompany me to Lambton.

I have some purchases to make, and I would like to visit Mr. Shaw's bookshop.

Perhaps you might find a volume or two of your own—and anything else you may require.

" "Oh yes, what a delightful idea, William!

Lizzy, do say you will come." "Whatever you decide, Miss Darcy, I am happy to accompany you," Elizabeth replied, smiling warmly.

"Then we shall depart in two hours," Mr. Darcy announced, glancing at Elizabeth, though she seemed not to notice.

Brother and sister continued discussing their plans for Lambton.

Elizabeth, meanwhile, remained silent, listening attentively.

She had come to see that Mr. Darcy could be quite agreeable—so long as she fulfilled her role without stepping beyond its limits.

◆◆◆

Mrs. Bennet had to sit down and read her daughter's letter twice before she could believe it was all true.

Jane was now married and held the title of Baroness, and in just two days, she and her husband would arrive at Longbourn.

Some months earlier, she would have wept and exclaimed with sheer joy.

However, after all that had transpired in recent months, her view of life had changed considerably.

'Oh, my dearest Jane, I do hope you have not sacrificed your own happiness and future for the sake of our family,' said Mrs. Bennet, unable to hold back her tears.