Page 115 of Twice Chosen

"You asked me about preserves."

"You mentioned my future coffee."

"You wrote about Henry's road."

"You threatened the hawthorn."

"It deserved defending."

By the time they reached the gate, both were breathless with laughter.

Lydia, waiting on the Longbourn steps, stared. "What happened to you two?"

Elizabeth looked at Darcy.

Darcy looked at Elizabeth.

"Nothing," they said together.

Lydia narrowed her eyes. "You are both very strange."

Darcy offered Elizabeth his hand for the steps.

She took it.

"Yes," he said quietly. "We are."

The final evening at Longbourn before Elizabeth's departure was quieter than she expected. Mrs. Bennet had exhausted herself supervising trunks. Lydia had exhausted everyone else. Mary had retreated with music, and Kitty had gone upstairs to finish a sketch she insisted was not a wedding present.

Elizabeth found Jane in the drawing room alone.

Her sister looked up. "I wondered when you would come."

Elizabeth sat beside her. "You knew?"

"You always come when the house is finally quiet."

The simple familiarity hurt.

Jane took her hand. "Are you frightened?"

Elizabeth considered all the possible answers. She knew Pemberley better than Longbourn. She knew Darcy better than any bride should know her husband. She knew the shape of marriage, childbirth, grief, old age.

And none of that protected her from the new future.

"A little," she admitted.

Jane smiled. "Good."

Elizabeth stared. "Good?"

"If you were not frightened at all, I should suspect you had become somebody else."

Elizabeth almost laughed at the accuracy.

Jane leaned her head against Elizabeth's shoulder. "I shall miss you."

"I will write."