“Thank you. I value your opinion enormously. You have such sensitivity to music’s emotional qualities. So many people focus only on whether the notes are correct, but you understand that music is about feeling and communication.”
“You are very kind to say so. But truly, the interpretation was yours. I merely confirmed what you already knew.”
“Still, having that confirmation matters. Particularly from someone whose opinion I trust.” The younger woman hesitated, then added quietly, “I am glad my brother married you. I think you shall be very good for him.”
Elizabeth’s throat constricted around words that refused to form. If only Georgiana knew how Elizabeth’s secrecy threatened the very partnership that might make such goodness possible.
“Shall we take some air?” Georgiana suggested. “The morning is fine, and I noticed yesterday that the birds’ nest in the rose garden had eggs that looked ready to hatch. I should very much like to see if any have emerged overnight.”
The rose garden wrapped them in fragrance. Bees hummed drowsily amongst the flowers, their movements languid in the pleasant temperature. Georgiana led her to a particular bush where, nestled in the branches at eye level, a small nest held three speckled eggs.
“Oh!” Georgiana said, her voice dropping to a whisper of wonder. “Look, one is hatching!”
Indeed, the smallest egg showed a crack running along its surface, tiny movements visible within. As they watched in hushed fascination, the crack widened, a fragment of shell falling away to reveal a glimpse of pink skin and a tiny beak.
“It is working so hard,” Elizabeth murmured, matching her sister by marriage’s reverent tone. The hatchling’s struggle was both painful and beautiful to witness. The persistent tapping and gradual emergence from the confining shell into a broader world.
“Like being born must always be,” Georgiana agreed. “Difficult but necessary.”
They remained still, barely moving, as the tiny creature finally broke free. It lay exhausted in the nest, wet and ungainly, making small cheeping sounds that seemed impossibly loud for something so small.
“We ought to name it,” Georgiana declared suddenly, a grin brightening her features. “Since we witnessed its birth, we have that right, I think. It seems only proper to acknowledge such a momentous occasion.”
Elizabeth considered the tiny bird, its determination to emerge and its vulnerability now that it had succeeded. “How about Courage? For being brave enough to break free.”
“Courage.” Georgiana tested the name, then nodded in satisfaction. “Perfect. And when the others hatch, we shall name them as well. Hope and Joy, perhaps? To complete the trinity of virtues worth celebrating?”
They laughed together, two women in a garden, watching new life emerge and sharing a moment of simple delight uncomplicated by anxiety or the weight of choices made in haste.
For those brief moments, Elizabeth allowed herself to exist fully in the present, to forget the letter she’d written and all the complications it represented.
“I am so glad you are here, Elizabeth. You make everything feel more possible. As if the world holds more joy than I had previously recognised.”
“I am glad to be here as well. More than you know.”
And it was true. Despite the hasty marriage and complications, she was glad to know Fitzwilliam and to be a part of this family. She was grateful for the life unfolding before her with all its unexpected possibilities and joys.
The best thing to do henceforth was to prevent any more of her choices from destroying it all before that life had properly begun.
Chapter Twenty-one
Darcy
“There is no need for you to accompany us, Catherine. Do you really wish to trouble yourself?”
Lord Matlock’s question carried the weary resignation of a man who already knew the answer but felt compelled to voice his objection nonetheless. His sister arranged her skirts to occupy maximum space while casting a critical eye over the vehicle’s interior.
“Someone must ensure proper discipline is maintained with the tenants,” Lady Catherine declared. “Your leniency, Theo, borders on the absurd. Granting lease extensions to families who cannot meet their obligations, reducing rents when harvests fail…it is a wonder you have not bankrupted the estate entirely through misguided compassion.”
Lord Matlock’s tone remained mild, but certainty underlaid his next words. “The estate thrives precisely because I do not bleed my tenants dry when misfortune strikes. But we shall not debate estate management again. You have made your opinions quite clear over the years.”
Richard exchanged a glance with his brother Arthur as they settled onto the opposite bench, their expressions suggesting they had witnessed this particular disagreement more times than either cared to count. Darcy took his seat beside his cousins.
His preference for silence went unnoticed or deliberately ignored.
“I refuse to risk my own carriage on these atrocious roads,” Lady Catherine continued. “The paving is deplorable. One would think the local authorities incompetent. In my day, roads were maintained properly. Now everything seems to be crumbling into disorder.”
The carriage lurched into motion, wheels rattling over the very roads she condemned, beginning the journey towards the various tenant holdings scattered across the Matlock lands where the quarterly meetings would be held. Lord Matlock maintained the practice of visiting his tenants personally rather than requiring them to come to the main house. It was a decision Lady Catherine had criticised repeatedly as beneath the dignity of an earl, but which the tenants themselves appreciated based on their evident respect for his lordship.
