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“...separate chambers since they arrived,” a woman’s voice was saying. “Miss Darcy’s maid says it was the same on their journey, with the sister sharing the mistress’s room until she went to stay with the friends in Leicester, and then the mistress always sleeping alone!”

“Perhaps she’s with child already and needs her rest,” another voice suggested.

“Or perhaps the master regrets his choice,” a third voice added, causing Elizabeth to freeze in her tracks.

“I’ve heard the family aren’t best pleased.

The Matlocks, and the master’s aunt in Kent.

They’re very high in the instep and the new Mrs. Darcy, I hear her family’s nobody much.

There were a lot of letters from Matlock and Rosings waiting for the master on his return. ”

Elizabeth moved away quickly, her cheeks burning.

She had not intended to eavesdrop, but what she had heard confirmed her worst fears.

The servants were indeed gossiping about her marriage, drawing their own conclusions about the separate bedchambers, perhaps even questioning Darcy’s commitment to her.

How could she establish herself as mistress of Pemberley if the staff doubted her position in her husband’s affections? How could she command their respect if they believed Darcy himself might be regretting their union?

Elizabeth found herself in the library, seeking solitude to compose herself. To her surprise, Georgiana was already there, sketching by the window.

“Elizabeth!” Georgiana looked up with a smile that faded as she noted Elizabeth’s expression. “Is something amiss?”

There was no point pretending. “I fear I may have overheard something I was not meant to hear,” Elizabeth admitted, sinking into a chair opposite Georgiana.

“Servants’ gossip?” Georgiana guessed perceptively.

Elizabeth nodded, then hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. Georgiana might not be aware of the sleeping arrangements, and Elizabeth had no wish to make her uncomfortable.

Georgiana set aside her sketchbook. “When I returned from Ramsgate after... after what happened with Mr. Wickham, there was talk among the servants,” she said quietly.

“Not malicious, perhaps, but curious, speculative, because I was not meant to come home for many weeks and they wondered what had happened, especially since my companion Mrs. Younge had been dismissed. It made me feel as though I was living behind glass, observed but separate.”

“That is it exactly,” Elizabeth replied, relieved by Georgiana’s understanding. “I am trying to find my place here, to become mistress of Pemberley in truth as well as name, but there are... complications.”

“Because of your sister?” Georgiana asked. “You need not worry about Lydia, Elizabeth, I promise Mrs. Wilkins will take very good care of her, and nobody here knows a thing about it.”

Your maid knows something, Elizabeth thought, and she has already spoken out of turn .

Though the maid did not know of Lydia’s disgrace, she had gossiped about Elizabeth and Darcy’s sleeping arrangements during their journey, and that was not acceptable.

But Elizabeth could not talk to Georgiana about the separate bedchambers; that was too awkward a conversation, and perhaps it was for Mrs. Reynolds to deal with the maid’s loose lips.

She would discreetly bring it to the housekeeper’s attention the next time they spoke.

Elizabeth chose her words carefully. “Yes, that is part of it. Your brother has been most considerate of everyone’s comfort during a rather unusual situation.”

“He thinks the world of you, Elizabeth,” Georgiana said earnestly. “Anyone with eyes can see it. He chose you, and I have never seen him happier.”

The simple conviction in Georgiana’s voice eased some of Elizabeth’s anxiety. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I am very fortunate in my new sister.”

“As am I,” Georgiana replied with a shy smile. “And if I may offer some advice from my own experience? The gossip will fade as they grow accustomed to you. In the meantime, perhaps it is best not to hear it.”

Elizabeth laughed, recognizing the wisdom in the younger woman’s words. “That is excellent counsel, Georgiana. I shall endeavour to be both deaf and blind to anything not directly addressed to me.”

Mrs. Annesley entered the library, coming over to look at Georgiana’s sketch, and Elizabeth felt a new determination forming as she turned away to peruse the shelves and select some reading matter.

Whatever the servants might say behind her back, she would carry herself with the dignity befitting Darcy’s wife and Pemberley’s mistress.

It transpired that her first morning at Pemberley, when her husband had not attended breakfast and had been absent for most of the day, had been an anomaly.

Having been absent for some time, an urgent matter on the estate had required Darcy’s immediate attention, but once it was dealt with he seemed far more present than Elizabeth had expected, joining her and Georgiana every morning at breakfast and often taking luncheon with them too.

Indeed, Elizabeth found Mr. Darcy to be the most attentive of husbands in every respect save one.

Each morning at breakfast, he inquired after her rest and comfort; throughout the day, he sought her opinion on matters both trivial and significant, and each evening, he ensured she had everything she required before bidding her a proper good night at her chamber door.

It was all perfectly correct, unfailingly considerate, and increasingly maddening.

A week had passed since their arrival at Pemberley, and Elizabeth was beginning to wonder if she would ever know the true intimacy of marriage that currently existed only in her imagination.

While she had determined to speak to him of their sleeping arrangements, every time they were sufficiently private that she might do so, a lump of nerves welled in her throat and she found herself uncharacteristically lost for words.

On this particular afternoon, they were walking alongside the stream that wound through Pemberley’s eastern gardens.

The weather was mild, the sun occasionally emerging from behind soft clouds to cast dappled light through the green-leafed trees.

Darcy had suggested the walk after luncheon, mentioning that this was a favoured walk in all weathers and he did not think Elizabeth had yet seen it.

“Are you warm enough?” he asked, glancing at her light spencer with concern. “The breeze can be deceptive in its coolness.”

“I am perfectly comfortable, thank you,” Elizabeth replied, trying not to sound impatient with his constant solicitude. “The exercise keeps me quite warm enough.”

He nodded, seemingly satisfied, and they continued in companionable silence for a time.

Elizabeth found herself stealing glances at his profile, admiring the strong line of his jaw and the thoughtful set of his mouth.

How strange to be married to this man and yet to feel in some ways as distant from him as when they had first met.

As they rounded a bend in the path, Elizabeth’s foot caught on an exposed root.

She stumbled slightly, and Darcy’s arm shot out to steady her, catching her firmly about the waist. The contact, though brief, sent a jolt of awareness through her body.

For a moment, they remained frozen, his hand warm against her side, their eyes locked in mutual surprise.

“Forgive me,” Darcy said, quickly releasing her once she had regained her balance. “I hope I did not presume too much.”

“Not at all,” Elizabeth managed, her voice not quite steady. “You merely prevented an undignified tumble. Thank you.”

They resumed walking, but something had shifted in the atmosphere between them. Elizabeth was acutely conscious of his presence beside her, of the careful distance he maintained, of the way his hands now clasped behind his back as though to prevent any further accidental contact.

Seeking safer ground, Elizabeth said, “Mrs. Reynolds mentioned that the tenant at Willow Cottage has requested repairs to the roof before next winter.”

Darcy seemed grateful for the change of subject. “Yes, it is a matter requiring attention. The cottage is one of the oldest on the estate, and I fear years of piecemeal repairs have only delayed the inevitable need for more substantial work.”

“Perhaps it would be more economical in the long term to undertake a complete renovation rather than continue with minor repairs?” Elizabeth suggested.

His eyes brightened with interest. “You are thinking practically. I had considered the same, as I believe the house to be too small and to need extra rooms to be added on. The family has lived there for three generations; they deserve a sound dwelling large enough for their family to live in comfort, though I am afraid they may have to move out temporarily in order for such significant rebuilds to take place. I do have an available house in Kympton they might use for a few months, though...”

They fell into a discussion of estate matters, the awkwardness of moments before gradually dissipating as they found common ground in their concern for Pemberley and its people.

Elizabeth offered observations and suggestions that Darcy received with genuine consideration, sometimes agreeing, sometimes gently challenging her assumptions with additional information she had not yet been privy to.

It was in these moments that Elizabeth could most clearly envision their future partnership: working together as stewards of Pemberley, each bringing their own strengths to the shared responsibility. If only they could achieve the same harmony in the more intimate aspects of their marriage!