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Colonel Fitzwilliam approached next. “Mrs. Darcy,” he greeted her with a bow and a cheerful smile. “May I offer my congratulations to both you and my fortunate cousin? I must say, when I first met you in Kent, I never imagined we would soon be related by marriage.”

“Nor did I,” Elizabeth admitted with a smile. “Life is full of the most unexpected turns.”

“Indeed,” he agreed, his expression growing momentarily serious. “And sometimes those turns require the steadying hand of a friend.”

“Friends such as yourself are invaluable, Colonel,” Elizabeth said meaningfully.

“Richard, please,” he corrected her. “We are family now, after all.”

The wedding breakfast that followed was a modest affair by the standards of their circle, but more than adequate for the small party.

Mrs. Bennet had outdone herself in the preparation, with cold meats, pastries, and a wedding cake that drew admiring comments from all present.

Elizabeth found herself seated beside her new husband, acutely aware of his presence, the occasional brush of his hand against hers sending a thrill through her that she struggled to conceal.

“Are you pleased, Mrs. Darcy?” he asked quietly, during a moment when the others were distracted by Mrs. Bennet’s animated description of the cake’s preparation.

Elizabeth met his gaze, wondering what he was truly thinking. “Very pleased, Mr. Darcy,” she replied. “Though I confess my new name still sounds strange to my ears.”

“You have a lifetime to become accustomed to it,” he assured her, a slight smile touching his lips.

“A lifetime,” she repeated, marvelling at the thought. “That seems both an eternity and no time at all.”

The departure from Longbourn after their breakfast proved more emotional than Elizabeth had anticipated.

Standing in the circular drive before her childhood home, now as Mrs. Darcy, she found herself unexpectedly moved by the sight of her family assembled to bid her farewell.

Even her mother, who had spent the morning alternately weeping with joy over her daughter’s advantageous match and issuing last-minute instructions to the servants, now dabbed at her eyes with genuine feeling as the grand Darcy travelling carriage stood waiting.

“Oh, my dearest Lizzy!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, embracing her daughter for what seemed the tenth time. “To think I shall now address my letters to Mrs. Darcy of Pemberley! You must write the moment you arrive, and tell me everything about your new home!”

“Yes, Mama,” Elizabeth replied patiently. “I shall write as soon as we are settled.”

Mr. Bennet stood slightly apart from the general commotion, his expression caught between pride and melancholy. When Elizabeth approached him, he took both her hands in his.

“Well, my Lizzy,” he said quietly, “I have given you away, as fathers must. But I trust Mr. Darcy understands the value of what he has received.”

“I believe he does, Papa,” Elizabeth assured him, her voice catching slightly. “And you have not lost a daughter, but gained a peaceful library at Pemberley to retreat to when you visit.”

This drew a smile from him. “A most compelling inducement. I shall hold you to that promise.” He leaned forward to kiss her forehead, a rare gesture of affection that brought tears to Elizabeth’s eyes.

Jane’s farewell was loving. “I shall miss you terribly, Lizzy,” she said as they embraced. “But knowing you are happy makes the separation bearable.”

“We shall not be parted long,” Elizabeth promised her.

Mary approached next, offering a stiffly formal curtsy before surprising Elizabeth with a brief, awkward embrace.

“I have a gift for your journey, a small volume of sermons on matrimonial duties,” she said, pressing a slim book into Elizabeth’s hands.

“I have marked those passages I thought most pertinent.”

“How thoughtful,” Elizabeth murmured, tucking the book into her reticule with a mental note to examine it later, if only to appreciate Mary’s good intentions.

Kitty’s goodbye was a mixture of tears and excitement. “You must send for me to visit as soon as possible,” she insisted. “Longbourn will be insufferably dull without you, and I long to see Pemberley.”

“And you shall,” Elizabeth promised, “though perhaps not until next spring, when the gardens will be at their best.”

Kitty's face fell, but there was no question of an invitation to Pemberley this year.

As far as everyone at Longbourn save for Mr. Bennet and Jane would know, Lydia would be there…

except Lydia would not go there at all, being secreted safely away with Mr. Darcy's old nurse until her baby came.

Everyone at Pemberley would be told that Lydia had travelled with the Darcys as far as Leicester to visit family, and so the illusion would be complete at both locations.

Mr. Darcy, who had been engaged in a final conversation with Colonel Fitzwilliam, now joined Elizabeth. “The carriages are ready, my dear,” he said softly. “We should depart if we are to reach our first night’s lodging before dark.”

Elizabeth nodded, then turned to watch as Lydia was embraced by her mother and sisters.

The youngest Bennet daughter’s face was a study in conflicting emotions: relief, apprehension, grief, and something that might have been shame, an emotion Elizabeth had never before associated with her most vivacious sister.

“You will write to us, won’t you, Lydia?” Mrs. Bennet was saying.

“Yes, Mama,” Lydia replied, her voice oddly subdued. “Of course.”

Elizabeth saw Lydia flinch as Mrs. Bennet squeezed her a little too hard, and quickly moved to intervene. “We really must be on our way, Mama. We have many miles to travel.”

With a final flurry of embraces, handkerchief waving, and last-minute admonitions from Mrs. Bennet, they were finally settled in the carriages.

The primary travelling coach bore the Darcy crest on its doors and was appointed with every comfort: plush seats upholstered in dark blue velvet, thick rugs for their feet, and cleverly designed compartments for refreshments and books.

For this first stage of the journey, Darcy had suggested that he would ride alongside the carriage on horseback, leaving the ladies to become acquainted.

Elizabeth found herself seated beside Georgiana, with Lydia opposite.

A second, smaller carriage followed behind, carrying Georgiana’s companion Mrs. Annesley – who had discreetly said that as not one of the family, she would give them their privacy for the moment – Darcy’s valet, and Georgiana’s lady’s maid, who would assist all the ladies on the journey.

Darcy had promised Elizabeth her own maid once they arrived at Pemberley.

As the carriage pulled away from Longbourn, Elizabeth caught a last glimpse of her family standing in the drive, gradually diminishing as the distance increased, until they rounded a bend in the lane and were lost from sight. She was surprised by the sudden pang of nostalgia that seized her.

“It is strange,” she said aloud, “to leave the only home one has ever known.”

Georgiana looked at her sympathetically.

“I remember feeling the same when I first left Pemberley for school. But you will soon come to love Pemberley as your own, I am certain of it. It is at its finest in summer, when the roses are in bloom and the lake reflects the blue of the sky. But even winter has its charm, with fires burning in every grate and the Peaks covered in snow.”

Elizabeth smiled at her new sister’s enthusiasm. “I look forward to experiencing all its seasons.” She turned to include Lydia in the conversation. “And you, Lydia, shall see something of the country as well, though in rather different circumstances.”

Lydia, who had been staring listlessly out of the window, turned her attention to Elizabeth. “Yes, I suppose I shall,” she agreed without her usual animation. “Though I doubt a widow’s establishment in Leicester will compare to the grandeur of Pemberley.”

There was a hint of the old Lydia in this remark, a touch of petulance that was almost reassuring. Elizabeth exchanged a quick glance with Georgiana, who seemed uncertain how to respond to Lydia’s comment.

“Mrs. Wilkins keeps a most respectable house,” Georgiana ventured after a moment. “She was the kindest of nurses to both my brother and I when we were small, and I know my brother trusts her implicitly.”

Lydia merely nodded, returning her gaze to the passing countryside.

The first few miles passed in somewhat strained conversation.

Georgiana, naturally shy, made valiant efforts to engage both Elizabeth and Lydia, asking about their childhood at Longbourn and sharing gentle anecdotes of her own upbringing at Pemberley.

Elizabeth responded warmly, drawing parallels between her experiences and Georgiana’s where she could, attempting to build bridges of understanding between them.

Lydia contributed little, her responses brief and uncharacteristically subdued. Elizabeth observed her sister with growing concern, noting the dark shadows beneath her eyes and the way her hands occasionally strayed to her stomach before being hastily withdrawn.

When they stopped at a coaching inn to change horses and take refreshment, Elizabeth seized the opportunity to speak with Lydia alone. While Darcy escorted Georgiana inside, Elizabeth held her sister back with a gentle touch on her arm.

“Walk with me a moment,” she suggested, nodding toward a small garden at the side of the inn. “The fresh air will do us good after being confined in the carriage.”

Lydia followed without protest, an acquiescence that would have been unthinkable just months ago. They strolled slowly along a gravel path.

“How are you truly, Lydia?” Elizabeth asked softly when they were out of earshot of the others. “You need not pretend with me.”