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The rest of the day passed in a kind of quiet glow.

The Colonel was the first to find them and offered his congratulations with a dry, satisfied air—“At last,” was all he said, though his smile lingered longer than usual.

Mrs. Gardiner embraced Elizabeth with warmth and not a little relief, while her husband shook Darcy’s hand solemnly and added, “I suspect she will keep you in good order, sir.”

Even Mrs. Reynolds, once reserved in her opinions, seemed quietly pleased.

She had grown to admire Elizabeth in the past week, not merely for her calm presence in the household, but for the change she had seen in her master.

Joy softened his silences now. And she, who had known him as a boy, recognized it for what it was.

Later, as they sat near the fire, Colonel Fitzwilliam spoke more softly.

“She would not leave his side at first. For days, Georgiana refused to sleep unless she could be near the room—even when he did not wake. But the strain was too much. When her health began to falter, and with Lady Catherine making everything tenfold worse, my parents insisted she return with them to our house.”

He paused, watching the fire flicker low.

“She rallied again once he was out of danger, but when the journey north was arranged, we departed too quickly to bring her with us. My parents should be at Matlock by now with her. She has been eager for news—and more than a little resentful at being left behind.”

They had hoped to leave together the following day, stopping in Matlock to inform the family and collect Georgiana before returning to Longbourn. But Dr. Wentworth, firm in his authority, insisted Mr. Darcy remain at Pemberley for at least another week.

Darcy opened his mouth to argue—only to be silenced by Elizabeth’s hand on his arm.

“For once,” she said gently, “I agree with the doctor.”

His jaw flexed. “I do not want to be parted from you again. Not even for a day.”

“Nor do I,” she said softly. “But I saw you in that carriage, Fitzwilliam. Pale, in pain, barely upright—and still insisting on traveling north. If something had gone wrong, if you had collapsed again while trying to reach me…”

She trailed off. Her voice had grown tight.

“I would not have survived it,” she finished.

Darcy looked away, his hand still resting on hers. “I could not bear the thought of you waiting. Of you not knowing.”

“I know that now,” she said. “But I cannot ask you to endanger yourself again. We have waited this long. Let us not begin our life with another risk.”

His gaze returned to hers, full of feeling. After a moment, he bowed his head in reluctant surrender.

“Then I will not argue,” he said quietly. “But I shall count the days. ”

It was Colonel Fitzwilliam who stepped forward then, his tone intentionally light.

“I’ll ride to Matlock,” he said. “Break the news, endure my mother’s reaction, fetch Georgiana—and return with all proper expressions of family joy.

That way, when Darcy is permitted to travel, we can all go together. ”

Elizabeth managed a smile. “You are very good.”

“I am under orders now,” he replied with mock solemnity. “I would not dare disappoint you.”

Her smile lingered a moment longer before fading into something quieter.

She turned toward the hearth, her fingers brushing the worn brocade of the chair.

“She loved me once,” Elizabeth said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I do not know what she will think of me now. I only know he was hurt—and I was not with him.”

Darcy was quiet a moment. Then he said, “She may not understand it all. Not at first. But she knows I chose to go to you. That I would do so again. And I believe—when she sees what you are to me, and that you care for her, truly and not for my sake alone—she will love you again, Elizabeth. Of that I am certain.”

The next morning dawned warm and clear, the skies bright with the easy fullness of high summer. The air held that golden stillness peculiar to July—ripe fields, distant birdsong, and the faintest scent of roses drifting in from the garden.

As the Gardiners expressed their gratitude to Mr. Darcy with grace and affection, Colonel Fitzwilliam stood to one side, speaking quietly with Elizabeth. He took her hand and bowed over it with a fond, familiar gallantry.

“I wish you a safe journey,” he said, voice lowered. “And fortitude for whatever awaits you at home.”

Her smile flickered. “Thank you. I expect I’ll need it.”

He pressed a light kiss to her glove and stepped back. “Take care of him.”

She glanced sideways at Darcy, who stood just beside them, still engaged in conversation with Mr. Gardiner. “Always,” she said.

The Colonel stepped forward to bid the Gardiners farewell—polite, brief, appropriate to acquaintances—and then assisted Mrs. Gardiner into the carriage with practiced ease. A moment later, he turned away and disappeared into the house.

Elizabeth and Darcy lingered behind.

“I will miss you greatly,” she said quietly, “but I will feel happy knowing you are safe. ”

Darcy took her hand in his. “And I shall miss you too. More than I can say.”

“I should be going,” she murmured, though her fingers refused to let go.

“I know.” He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles—slow and steady, reverent.

“Please rest and recover.”

“I will,” he said. “But only because I have something to return to.”

Elizabeth tried to smile, but her throat tightened. He noticed, of course.

“I love you, Elizabeth,” he said. “And nothing will keep me from coming to you.”

She stepped closer. “I love you too. And I would rather wait a few extra days—or even a week—in peace than a lifetime in grief. So I beg you, listen to your body. Rest when you need to.”

“I promise,” he said with a faint smile. “I shall follow the doctor’s advice. My very proper wife-to-be.”

They stood like that for a moment, neither speaking, only watching the other.

Then, without ceremony, he cupped her cheek, leaned in, and rested his forehead gently against hers.

“I will see you soon,” she whispered, eyes closed.

“Not soon enough,” he murmured.

She lingered a moment more, then turned. He helped her into the carriage himself. As the door closed, he leaned in one final time.

“Goodbye, my love,” he whispered, low enough that only she could hear.

Darcy remained in the doorway, watching as the carriage pulled away, his hand still lifted—as if trying to hold the memory of her fingers just a little longer.

The journey south was long but peaceful, the road winding through familiar fields now cast in deeper summer hues. As the carriage crested the final hill and Longbourn came into view, Elizabeth felt a quiet stirring. Her journey back to Longbourn was nearly at an end.

She thought of all the changes this lifetime had brought. She had been home at Pemberley—and it was there her memories felt strongest, truest. Yet she knew her work here was not finished. There were still things that must be set right before she could return home again .

As the carriage rounded the drive, a flurry of small feet and waving hands met them. The Gardiner children ran across the gravel in a stream of delighted shrieks, launching themselves into their parents’ arms before the footman could lower the step.

Mrs. Bennet followed only moments later, arms flung wide, voice ringing out across the lawn.

“My dear Mr. Gardiner! My dear, dear Lizzy! Oh, such a journey—and such a surprise!” She turned to Elizabeth, eyes sparkling. “I read Jane’s letter, of course—I could not help it! Mr. Darcy! Ten thousand a year! And a house in town! And to think, you never wrote to me directly!”

Mr. Bennet, lounging in the doorway with practiced ease, offered a dry salute. “Welcome home, Gardiner. You’ve done me the honour of returning my daughter engaged, I see. That’s a new trick. Shall I send all my relations off with you and expect them returned in an altered state?”

Mrs. Gardiner laughed and kissed her brother’s cheek as he ushered them all inside.

The crush of movement softened as they crossed the threshold.

Elizabeth’s sisters came forward in turn—first Jane, serene and glowing, who folded her into a wordless embrace that answered her letter better than words.

Their correspondence had been brief, but full of meaning. This was the rest of it.

Then Mary, standing slightly apart, caught her eye. Her hair was styled differently—looser, gentler—and she wore a pale dress that struck Elizabeth as oddly familiar.

Elizabeth stepped forward and hugged her. Mary accepted the embrace quietly, but firmly.

“You look—” Elizabeth began, then paused, studying her more closely.

Kitty, never far behind, supplied the explanation. “Once we finished the gown we were remaking for Jane’s wedding, we took some of your old dresses and altered them for Mary. This one was yours—but you’d never know it now. She even let me do her hair!”

Elizabeth turned back to Mary, her hands resting lightly on her arms. “You look lovely,” she said, and meant it. “Truly.”

Mary blushed, but her smile lingered.

Mrs. Gardiner had turned to Jane as they made their way toward the drawing room. “And how are the final plans coming along?”

Jane gave a modest smile. “All is nearly ready. But I’m very glad to have Lizzy back.”

Elizabeth smiled and gave her sister’s hand a small, wordless squeeze .

At that moment, Lydia flounced into the hall, arms crossed.

“Well,” she said, “it’s hardly fair that you got engaged while I had to stay home.

If you’d let me go with the Fosters, I’m sure I’d be engaged by now too.

” She sighed dramatically. “But since I wasn’t, I suppose everything must be about Lizzy again.

Not that I mind, of course—it would just be nice if someone asked me how I’m feeling. ”

Mrs. Bennet waved off the comment with a flutter of her hand and launched into her plans for Meryton, listing every shop worth visiting now that she had two daughters on the brink of marriage.

Elizabeth exchanged a glance with Mary, who raised a single brow in silent commentary. Kitty covered a grin behind her hand.

The next morning was all bustle and goodbyes. Mr. Bingley had arrived in time for breakfast, cheerful and apologetic, explaining that he’d kept away the day before to allow the family time to reconnect. He was greeted with warmth and a touch of relief, especially by Jane.

The Gardiner children—still rosy from country air—chattered excitedly as they climbed into the carriage beside their parents, waving to the house with sticky fingers and loud goodbyes. Mr. Gardiner offered his thanks once more, shaking Mr. Bennet’s hand and giving Kitty a very proper bow.

As he turned to go, he clapped a hand to Mr. Bingley’s shoulder. “Well, sir—when next we meet, it seems you’ll be my nephew.”

Bingley laughed, his cheeks pinking. “It’s the greatest honour I shall ever have, sir.”

Mrs. Gardiner moved to Elizabeth’s side and embraced her gently. “Pemberley was beautiful,” she said, “but I think your presence made it finer still.”

Elizabeth’s voice was quiet. “I would never have gone without you. Thank you—for all of it. For everything.”

Mrs. Gardiner only smiled and kissed her cheek.

As the carriage pulled away, the sisters lingered on the front step, watching the dust settle on the lane.

“Where is Lydia?” Elizabeth asked after a moment, scanning the hedge row.

“She was meant to help with the tenant baskets this morning,” Kitty murmured, “but she slipped out just after dawn. Said she had to return Aunt Philips’ bonnet—but she didn’t take anything with her.”

Elizabeth’s brow tightened. She glanced toward Mary, who sighed softly .

“She’s been restless all week,” Mary said. “Always vanishing off somewhere, but claiming she is with Aunt Philips.”

“Nonsense,” said Mrs. Bennet breezily as she swept out onto the step. “Lydia is with my sister, and no doubt doing her best. You girls are always thinking the worst of her. She has spirit—that’s all.”