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Chapter Twenty-Five

The Darcy carriage rolled smoothly over London’s cobbled streets, the familiar landmarks of the city appearing through the windows as they approached Grosvenor Square.

Elizabeth sat beside her husband, a contented smile playing about her lips as she recalled the joyful Christmas celebrations at Longbourn that they had just left behind.

Across from them, Kitty and Georgiana conversed in excited whispers, their friendship having blossomed into something quite remarkable in recent months, and the prospect of a Season in London had rendered them both nearly speechless with anticipation.

“Not long now,” Darcy remarked, glancing out as they turned into the fashionable square. “I expect you are all eager to rest after the journey.”

“Indeed,” Elizabeth agreed, though in truth the comfortable carriage and excellent roads had made the travel from Hertfordshire far less taxing than it might have been. “Though I suspect our young companions may be too excited for rest.”

As if to confirm her observation, Kitty pressed her face close to the window glass, her eyes widening as the carriage slowed before a stately townhouse of imposing proportions.

“Is this truly where we are to stay?” she breathed, unable to contain her awe as a liveried footman hurried down the steps to open the carriage door.

“Welcome to Darcy House,” Darcy said with quiet pride as he descended first, turning to offer Elizabeth his hand.

Elizabeth accepted his assistance, stepping down into the crisp January air with the confidence of one who now understood her rightful place in such surroundings.

Yet observing Kitty’s expression as her sister emerged from the carriage after Georgiana, Elizabeth recalled vividly her own first impressions of such grandeur.

How small and provincial she had felt upon first seeing Pemberley, how uncertain of her ability to preside over such magnificence.

Now, after several months as mistress of that great estate, she viewed Darcy House with appreciation but without the overwhelming sense of intimidation that clearly gripped Kitty.

“Come, let us go inside,” Elizabeth encouraged, taking her sister’s arm. “The wind is quite sharp today.”

The entrance hall of Darcy House presented an exquisite first impression.

Marble floors gleamed beneath a crystal chandelier, while carefully chosen artwork adorned walls covered in silk damask.

Footmen stood at attention, a housekeeper and butler stepped forward with perfectly calibrated bows, and the scent of beeswax and fresh flowers perfumed the air.

Kitty clutched Elizabeth’s arm more tightly. “Lizzy,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, “it is so very grand. Grander even than Netherfield.”

“Indeed it is,” Elizabeth agreed, patting her sister’s hand reassuringly. “Though you will soon grow accustomed to it. A few months ago, I would have been equally overwhelmed.”

“Truly?” Kitty looked doubtful. “You seem so at ease.”

Elizabeth laughed softly. “When I first saw Pemberley, I was quite speechless with awe. But one grows accustomed to grandeur surprisingly quickly. By the time we leave London in May, you shall be navigating these rooms as confidently as if you had lived here all your life.”

Darcy, having given instructions to the footmen regarding their luggage, approached them with Georgiana at his side. “Georgiana will show you the way to your rooms, Kitty. I believe you may wish to refresh yourselves after the journey.”

“Thank you, brother,” Georgiana replied with her characteristic soft-spoken courtesy. “Come, Kitty. You shall have the blue room next to mine. It has the loveliest view of the square.”

As the two girls ascended the sweeping staircase, Elizabeth observed how naturally Georgiana had assumed the role of hostess to her friend.

The shy, uncertain girl she had first met was gradually emerging from her shell, her confidence growing under Elizabeth’s gentle guidance and Kitty’s uninhibited friendship.

“She does remarkably well,” Darcy commented, following Elizabeth’s gaze. “Your sister has been good for her.”

“They have been good for each other,” Elizabeth corrected gently. “Kitty needed direction and purpose just as much as Georgiana needed companionship and encouragement.”

Darcy nodded, offering his arm to lead her toward the drawing room. “I have received a note from Wallace,” he said, lowering his voice though the servants had discreetly withdrawn. “He suggests we might call this afternoon, if convenient. Lydia is eager to see you.”

Elizabeth felt a flutter of anticipation. “I should like that very much. Shall we tell the girls we are visiting acquaintances?”

“Yes, that would be best. Georgiana will not question it, and Kitty...” He hesitated.

“Kitty has learned discretion,” Elizabeth assured him. “She understands there are matters that are not her concern. Besides, she will be far too occupied with exploring the house and planning for the Season to concern herself with our brief absence.”

The arrangements were made with typical Darcy efficiency. After luncheon, during which Kitty’s eyes continued to widen at the silver service and elaborate dishes presented by the French cook, Darcy announced that he and Elizabeth had a call to make upon old acquaintances.

“We shall not be long,” Elizabeth assured the girls, who both promised her they had plenty to keep them busy for the afternoon.

Once settled in the carriage, Elizabeth felt a mixture of anticipation and apprehension at the prospect of seeing Lydia again.

“You seem pensive,” Darcy observed as the carriage moved through progressively less fashionable streets, eventually turning into a modest but perfectly respectable neighbourhood of terraced houses.

“I was thinking of how much has changed,” Elizabeth admitted. “A year ago, Lydia was the silliest, most reckless of girls. Now she is a mother, living under an assumed identity, her entire future dependent upon the fiction we have created.”

“A necessary fiction,” Darcy reminded her gently. “And one that has provided her with security and respectability she might otherwise never have known.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth agreed. “I am grateful every day for your intervention. Without it...” She did not complete the thought, the alternatives too painful to contemplate.

The carriage stopped before a neat brick house with polished windows and a freshly painted door. Though modest compared to Darcy House, it presented an air of comfortable respectability entirely suited to a retired Major and his young wife.

The recently-promoted Major Wallace himself opened the door to them. His genuine pleasure at receiving them was evident in the warmth of his greeting.

“Mrs. Darcy, how delightful to see you again,” he said, bowing over Elizabeth’s hand. “And Mr. Darcy, we are honoured by your visit. Please, come in. Lydia is eager to see you both.”

He led them into a small but well-appointed sitting room where Lydia awaited them.

Elizabeth paused at the threshold, momentarily startled by the transformation in her youngest sister.

The girlish exuberance that had once characterised Lydia’s every movement had been replaced by a quieter, more measured demeanour.

She rose to greet them with a smile that, while still recognisably Lydia’s in its brightness, held a new maturity.

“Lizzy,” she said, embracing her sister with genuine affection. “How wonderful to see you. And Mr. Darcy, thank you for coming. Mrs. Annesley is out, I am sorry to say; she will be disappointed to have missed you.”

“You are looking well, Lydia,” Elizabeth observed, and it was true.

Though motherhood had added a certain roundness to Lydia’s figure, she appeared healthy and remarkably content.

Her gown, while not fashionable by London standards, was neat and becoming, and her hair was arranged in a simple style with a pretty cap that suited her new station as a respectable matron.

“I am very well indeed,” Lydia confirmed, gesturing for them to be seated. “James takes excellent care of us.”

The casual use of the Major’s Christian name, spoken with such evident affection, caught Elizabeth’s attention. This was not the formal address of a woman in a marriage of convenience, but the natural familiarity of a wife genuinely attached to her husband.

“And where is the new arrival?” Darcy inquired, his usual reserve softened by the informal setting. “We have been most eager to meet your daughter.”

A look of such pure maternal pride transformed Lydia’s face that Elizabeth felt a sudden rush of emotion.

This was not the sister she had known, who had cared only for officers and lace and her own amusement.

This was a woman who had found purpose and joy in motherhood, despite the difficult circumstances that had led to it.

“James, would you fetch her? She has just been fed and should be awake,” Lydia requested, and the Major departed with evident eagerness to comply.

“He dotes on her,” Lydia confided once he had left the room. “Sometimes I think he forgets she is not truly his by blood, he loves her so completely.”

“That is a blessing indeed,” Elizabeth said softly. “You seem happy, Lydia.”

“I am,” Lydia admitted, her expression suddenly serious. “Far happier than I deserve to be, after my foolishness. James is... he is everything good and kind, Lizzy. He knows everything about my past, yet he treats me as though I were the most precious thing in the world.”

Before Elizabeth could respond, Major Wallace returned, cradling a small bundle wrapped in a soft blanket. His expression as he gazed down at the infant was one of such tender devotion that Elizabeth felt her throat tighten with emotion.

“Here she is,” he announced, carefully transferring the bundle to Lydia’s waiting arms. “Our little treasure.”