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“It is glorious.” She found her voice at last, aware that Darcy was waiting for her to speak. “I… had not expected such scope…”

“Nervous?” Darcy’s voice was gentle.

“A little,” Elizabeth admitted, finding no reason to dissemble with him.

Just months ago, Elizabeth had been living a quietly respectable life as the daughter of a gentleman in Hertfordshire, her expectations limited to making a modestly comfortable match or perhaps, should fortune fail to provide a suitable husband, settling into the role of maiden aunt to her sisters’ future children.

Then Mr. Darcy had proposed, been refused, and proposed again in the aftermath of Wickham’s demise.

Now Elizabeth was the mistress of one of the grandest estates in Derbyshire, with a household staff which must number in the dozens and responsibilities that would have made her mother swoon.

“You shall govern it magnificently,” Darcy said, his voice full of a conviction Elizabeth did not in the least share. “Pemberley has waited for you, I think.”

She choked on an incredulous laugh, turning to give him an arch look. “You exaggerate, sir!”

The dimple in his cheek flashed again. “Perhaps it is only that I have waited for you. Do not doubt yourself, Elizabeth; I certainly do not.”

She could not quite sustain the eye contact; the intensity in the look he was giving her was too much, and she was very conscious that tonight there would be no more excuses, no reason for them not to share a bedroom; surely the staff would expect it, too.

“We should go on,” she said, shrugging her shawl a little tighter around her shoulders. “Georgiana and Mrs Annesley are both tired, and it still looks a good three or four miles to the house from here.”

“Almost five, and some of it steeply downhill,” Darcy admitted, offering his arm to assist her back inside the carriage. “We shall be almost another hour, but never fear, we will be in plenty of time for you to perhaps look around the house a little before dinner.”

Elizabeth thought she would not have minded if the journey took another four hours instead of one; it might give her the time required to gather her courage.

She did not say as much, however, merely settling back into her seat.

She was on the side of the carriage which had the best view of Pemberley, keeping the house in sight for much of the journey down into the valley, and spent most of the hour just taking in the beauty of her new home.

No wonder he is proud, she thought, very aware of Mr. Darcy sitting beside her. He has so very much to be proud of.

The carriage wheels crunched on the gravel of the circular drive, coming to a halt before the impressive porticoed front entrance.

Elizabeth caught her breath as she saw the staff arranged in two perfect – and very long – lines on either side of the great oak doors, awaiting their new mistress with faces both curious and expectant.

“They will adore you,” Darcy murmured, “as I do.”

Before she could respond, the carriage door opened, and a footman lowered the steps.

Darcy descended first, then turned to offer his hand.

Elizabeth placed her fingers in his, gathering her skirts with her other hand, and stepped down carefully onto Pemberley soil as its mistress for the first time.

The air was crisp and sweet with the scent of the gardens. Elizabeth stood straighter, mindful of the many eyes upon her. This moment would set the tone for her entire tenure as Mrs. Darcy; first impressions, as she well knew, were of paramount importance.

“Welcome home, Mrs. Darcy,” Darcy said formally, but with such tenderness in his gaze that Elizabeth felt her nervousness begin to melt away. He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led her toward the waiting staff. “Mrs. Reynolds will introduce the staff to you.”

The housekeeper stood at the front of the assembled crowd, her posture stiff and her countenance austere. She curtsied deeply as they approached. “Welcome to Pemberley, Mrs. Darcy.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds,” Elizabeth replied, grateful that her voice remained steady. “I am delighted to be here and look forward to making Pemberley my home.”

She would have been a little nervous of the housekeeper, perhaps, if both Darcy and Georgiana had not repeatedly, and laughingly, insisted that though Mrs. Reynolds had a most dignified mien, she was the kindest of women.

One by one, the staff were presented to her: the butler, Mr. Porter; the head cook, Mrs. Winters; the head gardener, Mr. Fleming; and dozens of maids, footmen, grooms, and other servants whose names she tried desperately to commit to memory, knowing she would inevitably fail at this first attempt.

As they crossed the threshold, Elizabeth tried not to stare.

The marble floors shone, ancient tapestries and paintings hanging on the walls proclaimed the long history of the Darcy family, and the grand staircase curved upward with stately elegance, covered with thick burgundy carpets and brass stair-rods polished to a gleaming shine.

“Would you care to rest after your journey, or would you prefer a tour?” Darcy asked solicitously.

Elizabeth pondered briefly. Rest would be welcome, but the expectant faces around her suggested that a tour would be the more appropriate choice. “A tour, I think, at least a small one,” she decided. “I should like to begin acquainting myself with my new home immediately.”

Darcy smiled, clearly pleased with her answer. “Mrs. Reynolds, if you would be so good as to show Mrs. Darcy through the principal rooms before escorting her to the mistress’s chambers? I have some matters to attend to, but I shall join you for dinner.”

“Of course, sir.” Mrs. Reynolds inclined her head respectfully.

As Darcy departed with a gentle squeeze of her hand, Elizabeth felt a momentary flutter of panic at being left alone. Breathe , she told herself sternly. You are mistress here now.

“This way, if you please, Mrs. Darcy,” Mrs. Reynolds said.

Elizabeth followed, acutely aware of her own footsteps echoing in the vast space and determined to concentrate on anything the housekeeper said about the galleries and chambers they were about to pass through.

She would need to know them intimately, to understand the rhythms and requirements of this great house if she were to manage it successfully.

At each room, Elizabeth asked questions, noting which chambers might require particular attention and which seemed to run smoothly without intervention.

“And here,” Mrs. Reynolds said at last, opening a set of double doors, “is the mistress’s morning room.”

Elizabeth stepped inside and caught her breath.

The chamber was exquisite, with windows overlooking the gardens, walls papered with a soft blue-green silk printed with tiny golden flowers, and furnishings that managed to be both elegant and comfortable.

A desk of polished rosewood stood by the window, its surface clear save for a silver inkstand and fresh writing paper.

“This will be your domain, Mrs. Darcy,” the housekeeper explained. “The previous mistress, Mr. Darcy’s mother, used this room for correspondence, meeting with the housekeeper, and planning menus and entertainments.”

Elizabeth moved to the desk and ran her fingertips lightly over its smooth surface. Here, she would learn to be the mistress of Pemberley. The thought was both daunting and thrilling.

“When would be convenient for us to review the household accounts and staff rotations?” she asked, turning to Mrs. Reynolds.

Respect flickered in the older woman’s eyes. “Whenever you wish, madam. I typically review them with the master on Monday mornings when he is at Pemberley, but I am at your disposal.”

“Monday morning sounds perfectly acceptable. Ten o’clock?”

“Very good, Mrs. Darcy.”

They had completed the portion of the tour she was to take today, it seemed, for the next door Mrs. Reynolds opened along the gallery turned out to be the entrance to the mistress’s suite.

Elizabeth had expected something grand, but the reality exceeded her imaginings.

The suite consisted of a sitting room, bedchamber, and dressing room, all quite vast, and furnished with understated luxury.

The windows overlooked the lake, capturing the enchanting view perfectly.

“I have assigned a maid, Sarah, to trial as your personal maid,” Mrs. Reynolds said. “She has already unpacked your things and will attend you shortly. Is there anything else you require, Mrs. Darcy?”

“No, thank you, Mrs. Reynolds. You have been most helpful.”

When the housekeeper had gone, Elizabeth sank onto a delicate chair, suddenly overcome by the enormity of the change in her circumstances.

The room around her represented centuries of tradition and wealth, a legacy into which she, Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn, had married.

Would she ever truly feel at home amidst such grandeur?

She rose and moved to the window, gazing out at the perfect landscaping that stretched before her. Her reflection was a ghost in the glass: a young woman with dark, expressive eyes and a determined set to her mouth.

“Well, Lizzy,” she murmured to herself, “you wanted a challenge.”

A soft knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. “Enter,” she called, turning from the window.

Darcy stood in the doorway, his expression a little hesitant. “May I come in?”

“Of course.” Elizabeth smiled, genuinely pleased to see him. “This is your house, after all.”

“No,” he said, crossing to her side. “It is our house now. And I would not presume upon your private chambers without permission.”

The consideration in his words touched her deeply.

“What did you think of your tour?” he asked, his eyes searching her face. “Is it all too much?”

Elizabeth considered dissembling, then decided on honesty. “I only saw a few rooms, and even that much was overwhelming,” she admitted. “But I promise I shall learn, and quickly. Pemberley deserves no less from its mistress.”

Darcy’s expression softened. “Pemberley is fortunate indeed in its new mistress.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “As am I.”

In that moment, with the late afternoon sun streaming through the windows and her husband’s eyes warm upon her face, Elizabeth felt the first true stirrings of belonging.

Pemberley might be vast and grand, its traditions ancient and its responsibilities weighty, but it was now her home, and she would make herself worthy of it.