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Elizabeth studied him with a knowing look that suggested she was not entirely convinced by this explanation, but she did not press further. It was another quality he treasured in his wife, her instinctive understanding of when to pursue a subject and when to allow him his privacy.

“Then shall we accept?” she asked instead. “I believe a few weeks at Netherfield would be most agreeable, particularly at this season when the countryside is at its finest.”

“If it pleases you, then certainly,” Darcy agreed. “Shall we depart next week? That would allow sufficient time for preparations without delaying our visit unduly.”

“Next week would be perfect. I shall write to Jane today to inform her of our plans, and you might respond to Mr. Bingley’s invitation.”

The decision was made: they would return to where their story had begun, but as very different people than they had been then. He, in particular, had been transformed by Elizabeth’s love and her challenging of his assumptions. This visit would be, in some ways, a testament to that transformation.

The fire in their private sitting room had burned down to a comfortable glow, casting soft shadows across the elegant furnishings.

Darcy sat in his favourite armchair while Elizabeth occupied the small sofa adjacent to it, her feet tucked beneath her in a posture that would have scandalized his aunt Lady Catherine but which he found utterly endearing.

The evening had brought a sharp autumn chill that made the warmth of the fire all the more welcome, and with it a contemplative mood that seemed to have settled over them both.

Their imminent departure for Hertfordshire lingered unspoken between them, bringing with it thoughts of Jane and Bingley and the complications that might arise from their reunion.

Darcy watched as Elizabeth absently turned the pages of her book, her attention clearly elsewhere, and decided the time had come to address what had been on his mind since Bingley’s invitation arrived two days earlier.

“You seem distracted this evening,” he observed quietly.

Elizabeth looked up with a small smile of acknowledgment. “I am poor company, I fear. My thoughts keep returning to our upcoming visit and what it might mean for Jane.”

“I have been thinking of that as well,” Darcy admitted, setting aside the estate report he had been pretending to review. “Bingley’s intentions seem quite clear.”

“Indeed.” Elizabeth closed her book entirely, marking her place with a ribbon. “I received a letter from Jane today. Mr. Bingley called at Longbourn the very day after his return to Netherfield.”

This prompt attention confirmed what Darcy had already suspected about his friend’s continuing attachment. “And how was he received?”

“Politely, according to Jane. She writes with her usual restraint, but reading between the lines, I believe she remains uncertain of her own feelings.” Elizabeth shifted to face him more directly.

“The last year has changed her in ways that are still revealing themselves. She is less willing now to believe uncritically in others’ good intentions. ”

“A natural consequence of disappointment,” Darcy said carefully. “One that I bear significant responsibility for.”

Elizabeth studied him thoughtfully. “You have acknowledged that responsibility already, Fitzwilliam. There is no need to revisit old regrets.”

“Perhaps not,” he agreed. “But our return to Hertfordshire brings the matter to the fore once more. Bingley will almost certainly renew his addresses to your sister, and I...” He paused, searching for the right words.

“I wish to make it absolutely clear that I will not interfere in any way this time. Whatever develops between them must do so according to their own feelings, without influence from me.”

“I appreciate that assurance,” Elizabeth said softly.

“It is not merely an assurance but a promise,” Darcy emphasized, wanting her to understand the depth of his commitment on this point.

“My previous interference was unconscionable, born of pride and misplaced concern. I believed myself wiser than Bingley in matters of the heart, more capable of discerning true feeling from polite sociability.”

“And now?” Elizabeth prompted gently.

Darcy shook his head ruefully. “Now I recognise the arrogance of that assumption. If recent events have taught me anything, it is that matters of the heart cannot be judged by external standards or conventional wisdom. Each person must determine their own path.”

Elizabeth’s expression softened with approval. “That is a significant change in perspective.”

“One that was sorely needed,” Darcy acknowledged. “I once made judgments about the nature of your sister’s feelings based on my own limited observations and prejudices. It was presumptuous in the extreme.”

“Jane has always been reserved in displaying her emotions,” Elizabeth said. “It is her nature to maintain a certain composure, even when deeply affected.”

“A quality I mistook for indifference,” Darcy admitted. “I allowed my concerns about your family’s situation and my own prejudices about suitable connections to cloud my judgment.”

“And now those concerns have been somewhat alleviated, I suppose, by your closer acquaintance with our family,” Elizabeth suggested.

Darcy considered this. “Not alleviated so much as put into proper perspective. The considerations that once seemed so paramount, differences in fortune and connection, appear far less significant when weighed against genuine affection and compatibility of character.”

Elizabeth smiled, clearly pleased by this response. “So you would not oppose a match between them now?”

“I would not presume to have any say in the matter whatsoever,” Darcy clarified. “My opinion, whether favourable or not, is entirely irrelevant to what should be a decision made by your sister and Bingley alone.”

“And yet,” Elizabeth said perceptively, “something still troubles you about the situation.”

Her intuition regarding his thoughts never ceased to amaze him. Darcy rose from his chair and moved to stand before the fire, gathering his thoughts carefully. How to express his concern about Colonel Fitzwilliam without betraying his cousin’s confidence?

“I merely wish to ensure that your sister is allowed to make her choice freely, without feeling any obligation toward Bingley because of their previous connection,” he said finally. “There are... circumstances that have changed since their last meeting.”

Elizabeth’s gaze sharpened with interest. “What circumstances do you refer to?”

Darcy chose his words with care. “During our efforts to resolve Lydia’s situation, Jane spent some time in the company of Colonel Fitzwilliam. I observed... that is, it seemed possible that a mutual regard might have developed between them.”

Elizabeth was silent for a moment, processing this revelation. “Do you believe Colonel Fitzwilliam formed an attachment to Jane?”

Darcy sighed, reluctant to speak for his cousin yet unwilling to mislead his wife.

“I believe it possible, yes. During our journey to Leicester, he spoke of your sister with particular warmth. But I would not want your sister to feel that Bingley’s prior claim somehow obligates her, should her affections have turned elsewhere. ”

“I see,” Elizabeth said thoughtfully. “And has your cousin expressed any intention to pursue her?”

“No,” Darcy admitted. “In fact, when I mentioned Bingley’s planned return to Netherfield, Fitzwilliam made it clear he would not interfere with what he considers Bingley’s prior claim.”

“So both gentlemen are determined to be honourable, possibly at the expense of their own happiness,” Elizabeth observed with a hint of exasperation. “While neither considers that Jane might have feelings and preferences of her own in the matter.”

This succinct assessment of the situation made Darcy smile despite himself. “When you put it that way, it does seem rather presumptuous on both parts.”

“Exceedingly so,” Elizabeth agreed. “Jane is neither a prize to be claimed by the first applicant nor a passive observer in her own life story. She will make her choice based on her own heart, as she should.”

“Then we are in complete agreement,” Darcy said, returning to sit beside her on the sofa rather than in his separate chair, a closeness that still gave him quiet pleasure after months of marriage. “I only wish for your sister to know that whatever her decision, she has our support.”

Elizabeth’s expression softened with evident appreciation. “That means a great deal, Fitzwilliam. Especially from you.”

“I hope you will tell her as much,” Darcy said. “Before Bingley begins his attentions in earnest upon our arrival. I would not have her constrained by any misplaced concern about my friendship with Bingley or any sense of obligation because of our previous history.”

“I shall tell her,” Elizabeth promised. “Though I expect Jane will form her own opinion regardless. She has grown quite definite in her judgments lately.”

“A family trait, it would seem,” Darcy observed with a smile.

Elizabeth laughed softly. “Perhaps. Though Jane expresses her opinions with considerably more gentleness than I typically manage.”

“Your directness is one of your most cherished qualities,” Darcy assured her, taking her hand in his. “At least to those of us fortunate enough to merit your genuine regard.”

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the fire crackling softly in the grate. Outside, a light rain had begun to fall, its gentle patter against the windows only enhancing the sense of intimate comfort within their private sitting room.

“It means more than I can express,” Elizabeth said finally, “to hear you speak so respectfully of Jane’s autonomy in this matter. There was a time when I feared you considered my family’s judgment universally deficient.”

“There was a time when I did,” Darcy acknowledged frankly. “But that time has long passed, along with many of my other misconceptions.”

Elizabeth squeezed his hand, a silent acknowledgment of the distance they had both travelled from those early days of mutual misunderstanding. “I am proud of the man you are, Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

The simple declaration, delivered without embellishment or excess sentiment, touched him deeply. From Elizabeth, whose good opinion was never given without merit, such words carried profound weight.

“Whatever good qualities I possess have been immeasurably enhanced by your influence,” he replied. “You have taught me to see beyond the narrow confines of my own perspective.”

“We have taught each other, I think,” Elizabeth said reflectively. “I was equally guilty of judgments made too hastily and held too firmly.”

Darcy lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against her fingers. “Then let us both take satisfaction in our mutual improvement.”

Elizabeth smiled, her eyes warm with affection. “Indeed. And let us hope that Jane and Mr. Bingley, or Jane and Colonel Fitzwilliam, or Jane and some as-yet-unknown gentleman, might find a similar partnership.”

“Your sister deserves nothing less,” Darcy agreed.

The conversation turned to practical matters of their upcoming journey, but Darcy found his thoughts lingering on how profoundly his life had changed in the year since he had last visited Hertfordshire.

He had arrived then full of pride, convinced of his own superiority and determined to maintain his distance from what he considered inferior society.

He would return now as a man transformed by love, with Elizabeth by his side and a new understanding of what truly mattered in life.