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Although there were a dozen questions she wanted to ask, Elizabeth reminded herself that her sister had only just arrived.

She rang the bell and commented only, “Well, I am very, very glad that you and your family are here. I want to hear all of your stories, but for now you must be wishing for a bath. You go ahead and I’ll go find some clothes for you to change into. ”

“Thank you, Elizabeth,” murmured Mrs. Tucker. Just as she was about to follow a maid through the door, however, she turned back with an uncertain look. “Lizzy, please, nothing too fancy…”

Elizabeth laughed, happy to see a flash of the sister that she recalled from childhood. “Nothing fancy, Mary, I promise.”

The Darcys had planned to join a group of acquaintances at the theatre that night, but were glad to send their regrets so that they might spend the evening with their unexpected guests.

Elizabeth began peppering her sister with questions even before the three of them had sat down to dinner, and Mary found herself telling stories that she had not thought of in years.

At some point, however, Mr. Darcy pointed out that his sister-in-law had barely touched her food. “Perhaps you might tell some of your own news, Elizabeth.”

When her sister appeared uncertain, Mrs. Tucker urged, “Please do, Lizzy. I only received seven letters from England the whole time I was away, and three of those were in such wretched condition by the time they reached me that I could barely make out who they were from, much less read any of the contents.”

Once Elizabeth was assured that Mrs. Tucker had received word of Mrs. Bennet’s demise, she began telling of her sisters and of Longbourn. “Papa spends about half his time in Meryton, when he is not visiting one or another of his daughters.”

Mary was intrigued to hear Mr. Darcy chuckle softly; the gentleman’s wife rolled her eyes at him and explained, “Papa rarely bothers to warn us that he is coming; we have learned to keep a room ready for him at all times and the staff knows to let him in, whether or not we are in residence.”

Even Mr. Darcy laughed aloud when Mrs. Tucker remarked that this seemed perfectly in keeping with the father she recalled from childhood.

In truth, Mary was fascinated to see how much her sister’s husband had changed, and yet how much he had stayed the same.

Darcy remained the tall, handsome aristocrat with the noble mien and formal manners that she recalled meeting long ago in Hertfordshire, but now he had permanent laugh lines creasing his face and the soft look that had warmed his eyes when he looked upon her sister appeared to have become a nearly constant trait.

“Papa always manages to remember when Master Collin is coming to visit, though,” offered Elizabeth after a moment.

“Just wait until you see them together, Mary. Collin is at school now, of course, but he spends his time between terms at Longbourn and our father is very good with him. Mr. Higgins—the steward—continues to run the estate (I fear that our father has not lost his indifference toward the mundane), but since Mrs. Hill retired and Mrs. Higgins took over as housekeeper, Longbourn seems to run like a well-oiled clock.”

Mrs. Darcy looked to her husband and he nodded in agreement, adding, “Indeed. The profits have increased significantly, and that is without even considering the stable.”

Elizabeth smiled. “Ah yes—the horses! You’ll be amazed at all the activity when you visit. The bloodstock that Sir Richard Fitzwilliam brought back from the continent has proven to be exceptional. The Duke of Wellington himself purchased one of their yearling fillies last year.”

After agreeing that this was a remarkable feat, Mary inquired, “And do the Fitzwilliams have any more children?”

“No, only Collin,” answered Elizabeth, sharing a look with her husband.

Not even to her sister would the Darcys confide the truth, that Richard’s injuries from the war would forever prevent him from siring any children of his own.

“They do not seem to regret it, however. He and Charlotte split their time between London and Hertfordshire, when they are not abroad.”

At Mrs. Tucker’s curious look, Lizzy explained, “Richard continues to work at the War Office and is often attached to various diplomatic envoys.” Mrs. Darcy raised one eyebrow at her husband and added in a whisper, “From various hints that Lydia has let drop, I suspect they may be doing more espionage than diplomacy on these trips, though!” Fitzwilliam shook his head in amusement.

“Lydia!?!” exclaimed Mary. “What does she have to do with it?”

“Well, did you receive word when she married Richard’s assistant?”

When Mrs. Tucker mutely shook her head, Elizabeth explained, “You may remember him as Lieutenant Sanderson—he was an officer in the militia that was stationed at Meryton for a time during the year Jane and I married?”

When the other woman nodded slowly, having a vague recollection of the gentleman, Mrs. Darcy added, “Well, apparently he has an exceptional capacity for languages; Richard recognized how useful such a talent could be and arranged his transfer.”

“And Lydia?”

“Ah. I’ll be interested to hear your opinion when you next meet our youngest sister. She has changed, and yet she is very much as she ever was. Just as lively and full of energy, but she’s able to control it… or perhaps to channel it is a better description.”

“But how did she come to marry Lieutenant Sanderson?”

“Well, once she finished three years at school, Lydia returned to Longbourn.” Elizabeth’s tone became solemn.

“That was the year Mama passed away and Kitty married Mr. Wright; I fear Longbourn felt very dull to Lydia. I don’t mean to say that she did not grieve for her mother, for she did…

indeed, I think she felt the loss more than any of us.

It’s just that she and Papa have very little in common, and I suppose that she was accustomed to always having other young ladies around her.

” Elizabeth sighed, recalling the many unhappy letters she had received from her youngest sister during that time.

“We asked Lydia to remain at Longbourn for her mourning because we worried about Papa being there alone; the Fitzwilliams visited as often as they could, but it was not the same as having someone else living under the same roof. They came to spend several months at Pemberley… or perhaps I should say that Lydia stayed with us while our father came to visit the library and Sir James.”

Fitzwilliam chuckled a little but Mary only looked confused.

With a smile, Elizabeth explained, “Mr. Darcy’s uncle, Sir James Darcy.

He was a high court judge until he retired some years ago, and now he lives in the dower house at Pemberley.

He is a very educated gentleman and is nearly finished with a monograph on the birds of England.

” She laughed a little, thinking about how the acquaintance had helped draw her father out of his melancholy.

“In fact, Sir James encouraged Papa to organize his own essays on the Greek philosophers into a manuscript.”

At Mary’s raised eyebrows, Mrs. Darcy nodded with a smile.

“Indeed, our father has devoted himself to the project with an enthusiasm that I would never have predicted. Papa even went back to consult some of his colleagues at the university several times; he says that the book is to be published within the year.”

“Astonishing,” said Mrs. Tucker with no little wonder in her voice.

“Indeed. But you asked about Lydia,” said Elizabeth, returning to her original point. “She visited us at Pemberley and then stayed with the Bingleys at Holloway for a time, but I suppose that neither Jane nor I maintain a particularly active social calendar when we are in the country.”

Mrs. Darcy winked at her husband and the gentleman rolled his eyes good-naturedly in response.

The Darcys generally visited London twice a year for part of the Seasons, but in general they were perfectly content to spend the majority of their time in Derbyshire; they continued the traditions of a fox hunt and harvest ball in the autumn and a large gathering of family and close friends at Christmas, but beyond that, they remained largely content with their small circle of intimates.

Turning back to her sister, Elizabeth resumed, “Apparently Mr. Sanderson had developed warm feelings for our sister while he was in Meryton with the militia and never forgot her. When he became Sir Richard’s assistant, he and Lydia saw a great deal more of one another and formed an attachment very rapidly.

They married from Longbourn on Lydia’s eighteenth birthday and now spend most of their time in London, when they are not abroad with the Fitzwilliams.”

“Children?”

“No, but they are so busy that I don’t believe either regrets it.

Right now they are in Russia—Saint Petersburg—and when they get back, you will understand; Lydia will have a dozen stories about the parties they attended and the noblemen and diplomats she danced with, and Mr. Sanderson will sit there smiling like a sphinx.

Truly, Mary—I genuinely believe that they are working as spies for the government. ”

“Elizabeth,” murmured Mr. Darcy warningly.

Mrs. Tucker studied them both and decided that her host’s genuinely serious tone told her a great deal about the potential truth of the matter. She chose to turn the subject. “And how are Jane and Catherine?”