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The remainder of the visit passed pleasantly enough, with Caroline making only one more veiled reference to Lydia’s situation, which Elizabeth deflected with calm composure.

Georgiana gradually relaxed enough to contribute modestly to the conversation, particularly when the topic turned to music and the pianoforte in the Netherfield drawing room, which Caroline insisted must be at Georgiana’s disposal during their stay.

When finally they were shown to their rooms to rest before dinner, Elizabeth found herself alone with Darcy in a comfortable suite that overlooked the gardens. The autumn afternoon was beginning to fade into evening, casting a warm glow through the windows.

“You handled Caroline Bingley with remarkable poise,” Darcy observed, coming to stand beside her at the window.

Elizabeth smiled, leaning against his tall frame. “I find her barbs have lost much of their sting now. Perhaps it is the security of being Mrs. Darcy, or perhaps simply the knowledge that her opinion matters not at all to my happiness.”

“Both, I imagine,” Darcy replied, his arm slipping around her waist. “Though I confess I was tempted to intervene when she mentioned Lydia.”

“There was no need,” Elizabeth assured him.

“Caroline Bingley’s attempts to disconcert me serve only to reveal her own insecurities.

Besides,” she added with a small laugh, “Mrs. Hurst’s sudden desire to claim connection to my family provided distraction enough.

I never thought to see the day when Louisa Hurst would eagerly anticipate a visit to Longbourn. ”

“Self-interest works remarkable transformations in some people,” Darcy observed dryly. “But tell me, what did you make of your sister? She seemed well, if perhaps a little reserved.”

Elizabeth considered the question thoughtfully. “Jane is... different somehow.” She paused, thinking of her sister’s careful composure throughout the visit, even when Bingley’s attentions had been most marked. “I shall need more time with her to determine whether her heart remains engaged.”

Darcy nodded, his expression serious. “Bingley’s certainly does, if his behaviour today is any indication.”

“Indeed,” Elizabeth agreed. “Tomorrow at Longbourn should prove most interesting, particularly if Caroline and Mrs. Hurst do accompany us. I cannot imagine what my mother will make of Mrs. Hurst’s newfound regard for our family.”

The thought brought a smile to her lips as she turned away from the window to prepare for dinner. Whatever else their visit to Hertfordshire might bring, it would not be dull.

Longbourn looked smaller somehow, its familiar facade and modest gardens diminished not by any physical change but by Elizabeth’s expanded perspective.

After the grandeur of Pemberley, her childhood home appeared almost quaint, yet no less dear to her heart for its comparative modesty.

As their carriage came to a halt before the entrance, she felt Darcy’s questioning glance and offered him a reassuring smile.

“It feels strange to arrive as a visitor,” she admitted quietly, “but I am eager to see them all.”

“Even your mother?” Darcy asked with the hint of a smile that would have been unthinkable a year ago.

“Especially my mother,” Elizabeth replied with a soft laugh. “Though I make no promises about her behaviour.”

They had barely descended from the carriage when the front door burst open and Mrs. Bennet hurried out, her face alight with excitement.

“Lizzy! Mr. Darcy! Oh, my dear, dear Lizzy, how well you look! So fashionable! So elegant! And Mr. Darcy, sir, how very handsome you are. I have been telling everyone that my Lizzy has the most handsome husband in all of England, have I not, Mr. Bennet?”

Mr. Bennet, who had followed his wife at a more measured pace, merely raised an eyebrow before shaking Darcy’s hand and folding Elizabeth into a brief, albeit quite tight, embrace. “Indeed, my dear, you have mentioned it with some regularity.”

“Come in, come in,” Mrs. Bennet continued, ushering them toward the house with fluttering hands.

“I have had Cook prepare all your favourite dishes, Lizzy, though I suppose they cannot compare to what you are used to at Pemberley. I suppose you have a French chef? Oh, you must tell me everything about Pemberley. I have been positively dying to hear more details.”

Elizabeth exchanged an amused glance with her father as they entered the familiar hallway. “Pemberley is beautiful, Mama, but it is wonderful to be home again.”

“I should think so, indeed,” Mrs. Bennet replied. “Though Longbourn must seem very cramped to you now, after living in such splendour. But where are the Bingleys? I thought they were to accompany you?”

“Miss Bingley was suffering from a headache this morning,” Darcy explained smoothly. “Mr. Bingley and Mrs. Hurst remained at Netherfield to attend to their sister, but Mr. Bingley sends his regards and promises to call tomorrow.”

“Well, that is a great disappointment,” Mrs. Bennet lamented. “I had so wanted to show Miss Bingley the new chintz in the sitting room. Very fashionable, Lizzy, you must see it directly.”

As they moved into the parlour, Elizabeth was surprised to see Kitty rise from her seat with perfect grace and curtsy elegantly. “Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy, how lovely to see you both.”

Gone was the giggly, flighty girl who had once followed Lydia about like a shadow.

In her place stood a composed young woman whose manner and speech showed remarkable improvement.

Her dress, while simple, was arranged with tasteful consideration, and her hair was styled in a modest fashion that suited her features far better than the fussy curls she had once favoured.

Mary, too, appeared changed, though in more subtle ways. She still sat with her book, but rather than immediately launching into a pedantic discourse on virtue or accomplishment, she greeted them with a measured smile and closed her volume without apparent reluctance.

“Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy,” she acknowledged. “I trust your journey from Pemberley was pleasant?”

“Most pleasant, thank you, Mary,” Elizabeth replied. “What are you reading? You seem quite engrossed.”

“Fordyce’s Sermons,” Mary admitted, but then added with a self-awareness that Elizabeth had never before witnessed in her, “though I find I prefer to discuss them in private conversation rather than recite passages in company these days.”

Elizabeth caught her father’s subtle nod of satisfaction at this remark. Clearly, he had taken a more active role in guiding Mary’s social behaviour.

“A wise approach,” Darcy commented unexpectedly. “Some texts benefit from thoughtful discourse rather than mere recitation.”

Mary appeared both surprised and pleased by this response from her brother-in-law, whom she had always regarded with a certain awe. “Precisely, sir. I have found that sharing ideas rather than merely pronouncing them leads to greater understanding.”

Elizabeth gave Darcy a grateful glance for his kindness, touched by his effort to engage with her family.

“Come, sit down, sit down,” Mrs. Bennet urged, patting the sofa beside her. “Lizzy, you must tell me everything about Pemberley. And what of little Georgiana? Why did she not come with you today? Is she too grand to visit Longbourn?”

“Not at all, Mama,” Elizabeth assured her. “Georgiana was rather weary after our journey this morning and I encouraged her to rest, but she sends her warmest regards and hopes to visit soon. Perhaps tomorrow, when Mr. Bingley calls.”

“Well, I should hope so. Such a sweet girl, though terribly shy. She needs to spend more time in company. Speaking of which,” Mrs. Bennet continued without pause, “I have had a letter from Lydia. Only the second since her marriage! Most inconsiderate of her, when she knows how I worry. She writes that they are settled in York and that Captain Wallace is very attentive, but provides scarcely any details about their home or their society. I am determined to visit her, though Mr. Bennet forbids it utterly. Most unreasonable, I call it. A mother should be permitted to visit her daughter, especially a newly married one.”

“There are reasons why a visit would be unwise at present,” Mr. Bennet stated firmly, in a tone that Elizabeth recognised as newly authoritative. “Lydia and her husband are establishing themselves in York society. Our presence might be a distraction.”

“Distraction! What nonsense,” Mrs. Bennet protested.

“A mother cannot be a distraction. Besides, I wish to see for myself whether this Captain Wallace is worthy of my daughter. So hasty a marriage, and to a mere captain! When she might have had an officer of higher rank had she only waited. I cannot understand why you allowed it, Lizzy. With your influence now, you might have found her a colonel at least.”

Elizabeth felt Darcy tense slightly beside her and placed a calming hand on his arm. “Captain Wallace is a man of excellent character, Mama. His rank may advance in time, but more importantly, he and Lydia are well-suited. She writes to me regularly and assures me she is very content.”

“Content!” Mrs. Bennet scoffed. “What kind of recommendation is that? I wanted all my daughters to be ecstatically happy in marriage. Though I suppose I cannot complain about your match, Lizzy,” she added with a meaningful glance at Darcy.

“Ten thousand a year and Pemberley! That is happiness indeed.”

“Mama,” Elizabeth began, embarrassed by her mother’s mercenary assessment, but Darcy subtly shook his head.

“Mrs. Bennet, I assure you that my greatest fortune is having Elizabeth as my wife,” he said with such sincere gravity that even Mrs. Bennet appeared momentarily abashed.