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He kissed her forehead in gratitude. She let him, while resolving that before he reached England she must discover precisely what Elizabeth knew.

Early in July, with no expectation that the Falkenried party could arrive for several more weeks, the Matlocks accepted Darcy's invitation to Pemberley. There was no question of making an exhausting dash from London to Derbyshire. Their carriages travelled by comfortable stages, the servants and luggage following arrangements made beforehand. They passed the first night at Northampton, the next near Leicester, and halted again in Derby before continuing into the quieter roads toward Lambton. Horses were changed where the posting arrangements required it; no one expected an aristocratic party with ladies, trunks, and elderly relations to rival the speed of the mail coach.

Richard professed to find the journey intolerably educational. Saye, who had arranged to join them for several days after attending business upon his own property, sent ahead a note warning that Richard was not to be trusted with the route. Georgiana read the note aloud and laughed so freely that Elizabeth thought again how much had changed since she first knew the shy girl who trembled before a roomful of listeners.

By the time the Derbyshire hills rose about them, Elizabeth was weary of carriage cushions and of Richard's theories concerning the best inns in England. She was also unexpectedly nervous. Pemberley was not merely a house belonging to the gentleman she loved. It was the place in which Darcy had grown up, where Georgiana had been a child, and where Elizabeth would be expected, after marriage, to preside over a household whose servants and tenants already had long memories of the family.

The first sight came from a bend in the road. The house stood with a quiet confidence that needed no artificial grandeur. Woods climbed the slopes beyond it, the water caught the light below, and the broad approach gave way to an ordered park without losing the character of the countryside. Elizabeth had seen magnificent residences since joining the Matlocks, yet this one struck her differently. She could imagine a life unfolding here rather than merely an assembly of guests admiring its rooms.

Darcy met them at the entrance, having ridden ahead to ensure everything was prepared. He greeted his aunt and uncle, then turned to Elizabeth with an anxiety he made no attempt to conceal.

“Have I brought you too far?” he asked.

“Only if you intend to require the journey again tomorrow,” Elizabeth said. “I should like time to inspect the evidence before I pronounce judgment.”

“Then I must hope the estate acquits itself.”

“It has made a promising first appearance.”

Georgiana took Elizabeth upstairs before Darcy could demand a fuller verdict. A comfortable set of guest rooms had been prepared near Lady Matlock's, with a view toward the gardens and enough space for Elizabeth's books and writing materials. On the dressing table stood a modest arrangement of roses and a little folded paper bearing Georgiana's hand: Welcome home, whenever you choose to call it so.

Elizabeth read the note twice. When she turned, Georgiana was studying the carpet.

“Is it too presumptuous?” Georgiana asked. “I know you have a home with the Matlocks, and I should never wish you to think I was taking you away from them.”

“It is not presumptuous,” Elizabeth said. “It is the loveliest welcome I could have imagined.”

That evening Pemberley revealed another character altogether. Darcy's aunt had opinions concerning the arrangement of the dining room, Lord Matlock asked intelligent questions about the farms, and Richard was convinced that the chairs had been placed at an inconvenient distance from the conversation. Georgiana defended the music room against his suggestion of martial songs. Elizabeth, sitting beside Darcy, discovered that she enjoyed seeing him challenged by the people who knew him best.

The following morning Georgiana claimed Elizabeth for the promised tour. She began not with the grandest apartments but with the room where she had practiced music as a child and the window seat from which she had watched her brother ride away on business. Darcy joined them at the library, where Elizabeth stopped so abruptly upon entering that he nearly collided with her.

“I have been warned about this room,” she said.

“Have you?” Darcy answered. “By whom?”

“Everyone with any understanding of my character.”

He showed her the books his father had collected, the shelves he had added, and the small table where Georgiana had first learned to form her letters. Elizabeth noticed that some volumes were worn with use while others remained grandly untouched. She preferred the former. A house in which books were read, she thought, was more promising than one in which they served only to demonstrate prosperity.

She found a German volume of poems near the window and opened it carefully. Minna had once recited a verse from the same poet while mending a child's dress. Elizabeth heard her mother's voice so suddenly that she fell silent.

Darcy waited. After a moment she showed him the page.

“My mother knew these lines,” she said. “I thought I had forgotten them.”

“Would you like the book brought to your room?”

“No. I should like to know it is here.” She closed the volume. “You have given me a place to remember her without being sad.”

They continued into the gardens, accompanied at a respectful distance by Georgiana and Lady Matlock. Darcy spoke of the work of the gardeners and the changes he hoped to make to a neglected walk. Elizabeth was pleased that he asked her opinion rather than offering the finished plans for admiration.

“Do you intend to ask me what flowers I prefer?” she said.

“I had intended to ask whether you would object to making the walk broader.”

“An alarming question. You are beginning with alterations before I have learned where anything is.”

“Then perhaps I ought to show you more.”