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Georgiana rose and rushed forward, forgetting her usual shyness, and embraced Elizabeth with tearful enthusiasm. Mrs Gardiner rose as well, offering a warm embrace of her own, while Mr Gardiner stood and shook Darcy’s hand vigorously.

Anne adjusted the cuffs of her morning gown, her expression dry.

“You managed the endeavour without a single instruction, Cousin,” she said with an approving nod. “A remarkable achievement.”

“Nonsense,” Lady Catherine proclaimed, striking the carpet with her stick, rising to her full height. “My supervision produced precisely the result I intended. I directed the lakeside excursion. I ensured the exact degree of shade required for a romantic declaration. The entire matter concluded successfully under my governance.”

Darcy shared an amused glance with his betrothed.

“Now,” Lady Catherine continued, pacing towards the tall windows, “we must determine a date. A lengthy engagement is an invitation to scandal and a waste of fine weather. I shall consult my calendar. A Wednesday in early August appears suitable. The vicar at Rosings will require time for the banns and to prepare his homily.”

“The ceremony will not occur at Rosings, Aunt,” Darcy corrected. “Furthermore, I must first write to Mr Bennet to request his consent. Elizabeth and I shall discuss the arrangements together, and we will determine the date.”

Lady Catherine looked affronted by the prospect of a shared decision. “You must not allow a young woman to dictate scheduling, Fitzwilliam. It sets a dangerous precedent for the household.”

“I am comfortable with the precedent, madam.” Darcy inclined his head, his smile unwavering. “If you will excuse us, we have letters to draft for the post.”

They retreated to the library, leaving the door open. Darcy directed Elizabeth to his desk, an expansive piece of polished mahogany, while he claimed a smaller writing table.

“You intend to write the entire sequence of the morning?” he inquired, observing her dip the quill into the crystal inkwell.

“I intend to leave my father in no doubt regarding my sentiments,” she replied, the scratch of the nib filling the quiet room. “He must understand that I have accepted you freely, and that my previous opinions have undergone a complete alteration. I must assure him that I love you.”

The declaration sent a fresh wave of warmth flooding through his chest. He arranged his own paper, contemplating the phrasing required for a father whose wit he respected and whose previous impressions of Darcy were undoubtedly poor.

“I shall request his consent formally,” he murmured, dipping his own quill. “And I shall express my intention to visit Longbourn at the earliest opportunity.”

Elizabeth paused her writing, tilting her head. “Do you intend to include a detailed description of my excellent posture, sir? Or perhaps you will inform him of my ability to balance household ledgers on my head?”

“I shall restrict my correspondence to expressions of devotion,” Darcy promised. “I believe your father has enough humour without my aunt’s additions.”

They continued their tasks, and under the teasing banter, Darcy felt the significance of their shared quietude. They were no longer two individuals navigating a maze of misunderstandings; they were a couple, planning their future in the room where they would spend countless hours of their married life.

When both letters were finished and sealed, Darcy entrusted them to Martin for the next post.

The following morning, during the breakfast hour, Martin entered the parlour bearing a silver salver. The butler approached Darcy, presenting an envelope.

Darcy recognised the sprawling handwriting immediately. He broke the wax seal, unfolding the paper while Elizabeth sipped her tea beside him.

The missive was from Charles Bingley. It had been drafted before any news of the engagement could reach Netherfield, serving as a response to the confession Darcy had made in his earlier letter.

He read the words carefully. Bingley admitted the revelation regarding Jane Bennet’s earlier stay in London had wounded him. He confessed he had required a lot of reflection before he could bring himself to reply. He valued their long-standing friendship and wished to preserve it, though he would henceforth judge Miss Bennet’s feelings for himself. He offered his forgiveness, stating that he understood Darcy had acted out of a misguided sense of protection.

Furthermore, he reported that his renewed attentions at Longbourn had been welcomed. He did not announce a formal betrothal though. The final paragraph contained an invitation. Bingley requested Darcy join him at Netherfield Park, assuring him that the Hertfordshire neighbourhood remained much as Darcy remembered it, though Bingley expressed a hope that his friend might find more to enjoy on a second visit.

“You have received agreeable news,” Elizabeth noted, setting her teacup on the saucer.

“I have received absolution from an exceptional friend,” Darcy replied, his tone thick with relief. He shifted his chair, offering the letter for her inspection. “Bingley forgives my interference, and he has requested my company.”

Elizabeth scanned the letter, her smile widening as she reached the conclusion. She gave it back to him.

“He hopes you might find more to enjoy in Hertfordshire,” Elizabeth recited, her pitch elevating with teasing delight. “A remarkably convenient invitation, Mr Darcy. It places you near Longbourn.”

“It is a duty to an old friend,” Darcy attempted nonchalance, arranging his features into a mask of solemn obligation. “A gentleman cannot ignore a request for companionship. I must support Bingley during his own courtship.”

“A duty,” Elizabeth repeated, unconvinced. “You intend to endure the dreadful society of Meryton purely out of selfless devotion to Mr Bingley. Your sacrifice is truly monumental, sir.”

“My sacrifice will be mitigated by my proximity to you,” he conceded, abandoning the pretence, his laughter joining hers. “I shall write my reply immediately. I shall accept his invitation, and I shall reveal the full truth of our engagement.”