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The radiant smile she bestowed upon him confirmed he had spoken well, though the prospect of hosting Mrs. Bennet at Pemberley was not without its concerns. For Elizabeth’s happiness, however, he would endure far worse inconveniences than her mother’s effusions.

“Thank you,” she said softly, reaching up to touch his cheek. “You continue to surprise me, Mr. Darcy.”

“I shall endeavour to do so for many years to come, Mrs. Darcy,” he replied, covering her hand with his own.

Though Elizabeth seemed pleased by his suggestion, Darcy observed the slight furrow between her brows, recognizing in it a sentiment he had not anticipated: guilt.

He recalled with painful clarity his own role in separating the Bennet sisters, not merely through marriage but through his previous interference in Jane and Bingley’s attachment.

The weight of that knowledge pressed upon him anew, demanding acknowledgment and, perhaps, remedy.

“You are troubled,” he ventured, not a question but a gentle observation.

Elizabeth looked up from a second perusal of Jane’s letter, her expression clearing in an attempt at cheerfulness that did not quite reach her eyes. “Not troubled, precisely. Merely thoughtful.”

“About Jane,” he pressed, determined not to allow her to dismiss her feelings for his comfort.

A small sigh escaped her lips. “Is it so obvious? I find myself feeling rather selfish, to have pursued my own happiness so readily when she...” She trailed off.

“When she remains at Longbourn, separated from the man she cares for,” Darcy finished for her. The words tasted bitter, for he could not forget his complicity in that separation.

“Yes,” Elizabeth admitted. “Though she would never reproach me, nor would I wish to cast any shadow on our own joy. It is merely that Jane has always been the one who sacrificed for others. She deserves happiness.”

Darcy nodded, guilt twisting in his chest. Though he had confessed to Elizabeth his interference in Bingley’s affections for Jane, the full measure of his manipulation remained a private shame.

He had not merely advised his friend against the match; he had actively concealed Jane’s presence in London from Bingley, colluding with Caroline Bingley to do so.

“I have thought often of my actions regarding your sister and Bingley,” he said carefully. “My regret is profound, not merely for the pain I caused but for the presumption behind my interference.”

“You acted according to your understanding at the time. We have discussed this, and I have forgiven you.”

“Your generosity exceeds what I deserve,” he replied. “Yet I cannot help but feel responsible for Jane’s current solitude.”

“Bingley made his own choice in the end,” Elizabeth reminded him gently.

“After considerable pressure from me,” Darcy countered. “I may have revised my opinion of the match and ceased my active discouragement, but I have not yet made proper amends.”

Elizabeth studied him closely. “What are you suggesting, Fitzwilliam?”

The use of his given name, still rare enough to cause a flutter of pleasure, momentarily distracted him from the serious turn of their conversation. He was saved from immediate reply by the entrance of Mrs. Reynolds.

“Pardon the interruption, sir, madam,” the housekeeper said with a respectful curtsy. “Miss Darcy asks if you will join her in the music room.”

“Of course,” Elizabeth replied, rising gracefully. “Please tell her we shall come directly.”

As Mrs. Reynolds departed, Darcy offered his arm to Elizabeth. “Shall we continue our discussion later?” he asked quietly.

“If you wish,” she replied, though her curious glance suggested she was not entirely satisfied with the postponement.

They found Georgiana already seated at the pianoforte, her slender fingers moving deftly through the opening bars of a Mozart sonata. She looked up as they entered, her face brightening.

“Elizabeth! I hoped you would come. Will you turn pages for me? This next section is quite challenging.”

As the two women bent their heads over the music, dark curls beside fair, Darcy was struck by the tableau they presented.

His sister, once so shy and reserved, now visibly comfortable in Elizabeth’s presence; his wife, extending the same genuine warmth to Georgiana that she showed to her own sisters.

The sight stirred something profound within him, a sense of rightness that transcended his earlier discomfort, and he quietly took a seat, content to enjoy the pleasure the sights and sounds of their playing afforded him.

The music flowed around the room, Georgiana’s skilled fingers drawing forth the complex harmonies with increasing confidence. When the piece concluded, Elizabeth’s enthusiastic praise brought a becoming blush to his sister’s cheeks.

“Did you enjoy reading your letters?” Georgiana asked, obviously eager for Elizabeth to have happy news. “I hope all is well?”

“Lydia sent her praise and thanks for your sketches. And Jane… is content.”

Darcy winced a little, that ‘content’ was the best they might ascribe to Jane’s feelings.

“I should like to know your sisters better, especially Jane,” Georgiana replied. “She was so kind to me, asking about my studies and seeming genuinely interested in my responses.”

“That is Jane precisely,” Elizabeth agreed, a touch of wistfulness entering her voice. “Always attending to others’ comfort rather than her own.”

Darcy, who had been content to observe their interaction, found himself drawn to speak. “I was reflecting earlier on how different Pemberley must seem to you after the liveliness of Longbourn. You must miss your family’s company, particularly your sisters.”

Elizabeth looked up, surprise evident in her expression. “I do, though the compensation of my current situation more than balances the account.”

“Still,” he persisted, the idea that had been forming in his mind taking clearer shape, “it seems a particular hardship that you and Jane should be separated so soon after your marriage, especially given her solitary situation at present.”

Georgiana glanced between them curiously. “Is Jane unwell?”

“Not in health,” Elizabeth clarified. “But I believe she may be somewhat lonely. She and I have always been particularly close.”

“I liked her exceedingly when we met,” Georgiana offered. “She has such a gentle manner, and she spoke so kindly of everyone.”

Darcy noted the genuine warmth in his sister’s voice. “I had been considering,” he said, addressing Elizabeth but including Georgiana in his glance, “whether, when we journey to London for the Season in the new year, we might invite your sister to join us.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “To London?”

“For Georgiana’s debut,” Darcy explained. “We had planned to open the Darcy house in town for the Season. Your sister’s company might make the transition more comfortable for you, and she would certainly be welcome.” He turned to Georgiana. “Would such an arrangement be agreeable to you?”

Georgiana’s face lit with genuine enthusiasm. “Oh yes! I should like that very much. I confess I have been somewhat anxious about my coming out, and having both Elizabeth and her sister to guide me would be a great comfort.” She turned to Elizabeth eagerly. “Do you think she would come?”

Elizabeth appeared momentarily speechless, her eyes suspiciously bright. “I... I believe she might, yes.”

“Then it is settled,” Darcy declared, pleased by his sister’s ready acceptance of the plan. “We shall write to her directly, extending the invitation.”

What he did not say, though he suspected Elizabeth understood, was that Bingley would certainly be in London during the Season.

His friend maintained a house there and participated regularly in society events.

The opportunity for Jane and Bingley to meet again, this time without his interference, might well lead to a renewal of their attachment.

“Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth said softly, using his given name deliberately, “this is most thoughtful of you.”

The gratitude in her eyes moved him deeply. It was such a small thing to offer, yet clearly it meant a great deal to her. That her happiness should be so closely tied to her sister’s welfare spoke to the depth of her familial devotion, a quality he had once disparaged but now valued immensely.

“I shall write to Jane immediately after luncheon,” Elizabeth continued, turning back to Georgiana. “Would you care to add a note of your own? I know Jane would be pleased to hear from you directly.”

“I should like that very much,” Georgiana agreed, her natural shyness momentarily overcome by genuine enthusiasm. “Perhaps I might describe some of the concerts and exhibitions we plan to attend? Jane mentioned an interest in art when we spoke at your wedding.”

“An excellent suggestion,” Elizabeth approved.

As the two continued their discussion, Darcy observed with satisfaction the easy rapport between them.

Georgiana had always been painfully reserved with strangers, yet with Elizabeth, she showed none of her usual reticence.

And now she spoke of Jane with similar warmth.

His decision to invite Jane to London was proving beneficial already, strengthening the bonds between Elizabeth and his sister even before Jane’s arrival.

A bell rang in the distance, one that heralded luncheon would be served shortly. Georgiana rose reluctantly, saying that she needed to excuse herself to freshen up, but that she looked forward to continuing their conversation at luncheon.

Left alone with Elizabeth, Darcy found himself suddenly aware of her proximity. She remained seated at the pianoforte, her fingers resting lightly on the keys without producing sound, her expression thoughtful.

“Thank you,” she said simply, looking up at him.

“There is no need for gratitude,” he replied, moving to sit beside her on the bench. “Your happiness is essential to my own.”

Elizabeth’s smile held a warmth that made his breath catch. “It is not merely the invitation to Jane, though that is certainly generous. It is your understanding of what she means to me, and your willingness to remedy a situation you might easily have ignored.”

“I have caused enough pain through pride and interference,” he said quietly. “If I can make some small amends through this gesture, it is the least I can do.”

“It is not small to me,” she countered, her hand finding his. “It represents everything I have come to appreciate in you, Fitzwilliam: your capacity for growth, your determination to right perceived wrongs, your consideration for those you care about.”

Her words settled around him like a benediction, healing wounds he had not realised still ached. The knowledge that she saw him so clearly, understood his flaws yet cared for him still, humbled him completely.

“Elizabeth,” he murmured, his voice lowering instinctively despite the empty room.

The way she looked at him then, eyes luminous with emotion, made him think seriously of taking her hand and leading her back up the stairs to their chambers.

The day's business could surely wait; the estate had managed without his constant supervision for centuries. But propriety and his own sense of responsibility intervened. There would be time enough for such indulgences later, when the day’s obligations had been met.

As if reading his thoughts, a blush rose to Elizabeth’s cheeks. “Perhaps we should join Georgiana for luncheon,” she suggested, though her voice carried a note of reluctance that matched his own sentiments exactly.

“A sensible suggestion,” he agreed, rising and offering his hand to assist her. “Though I find my appetite is not primarily for food at present.”

Her laugh, low and intimate, confirmed she understood him perfectly. “Patience, Mr. Darcy, is supposedly a virtue.”

“One I find increasingly difficult to cultivate in your presence, Mrs. Darcy,” he returned, pleased by the heightened colour in her cheeks.

As they made their way toward the dining room, Darcy reflected that marriage to Elizabeth was proving to be even more transformative than he had anticipated.

She challenged him, supported him, and inspired him to become a better version of himself.

The journey would not always be smooth, particularly as they navigated the integration of their very different families, but he was increasingly confident that together, they could face whatever difficulties arose.

For now, he would content himself with the knowledge that he had brought that particular light to her eyes, and later, when they were alone again, he would discover what other responses he might elicit from his brilliant, beautiful wife.