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“Perhaps you ought.”

They walked until the sound of the house was behind them. Elizabeth looked back at the windows and thought of Georgiana's note upstairs.

“When I lived at Longbourn, I believed a home was something that could be taken away with the signing of a document,” she said. “When I came to Matlock House, I learned that affection could provide what a legal claim could not. I have been afraid that marriage would mean choosing between them.”

“You will not be required to choose,” Darcy said. “Your aunt and uncle will always have a place here. So will Saye and Richard, though I reserve the right to ask Richard to leave the library occasionally.”

“I shall tell him you have already begun laying down rules.”

“You will tell him whatever proves most inconvenient for me.”

“Probably,” she said, smiling. Then her expression grew thoughtful. “I wish to be useful here, Fitzwilliam. Not merely admired as the mistress of a fine house. There are people who depend upon your judgments. I should like to understand their lives before anyone expects mine.”

“Then you shall,” Darcy answered. “And when you think I have misjudged something, I expect you to say so.”

“I fear you will be disappointed only by how often I oblige.”

The next day Darcy took Lord Matlock and Saye, who had arrived from his own estate, to inspect improvements to a tenant's drainage and the condition of a small bridge. Lady Matlock and Georgiana accompanied Elizabeth to visit the tenant's wife, who had recently been ill. Elizabeth had brought no grand gifts, only a basket of household comforts suggested by the housekeeper. The woman thanked them and soon spoke to Lady Matlock of the anxieties of the past winter. Elizabeth listened, understanding that a place could be beautiful in prospect and still hold a hundred practical concerns that its owner must never forget.

At supper, Saye observed that Elizabeth had asked more questions about the cottages than Richard had asked about his own estate in six months.

“An unjust comparison,” Richard said. “I have asked several questions about the cottages. I wished to know whether any possessed pies.”

“I am reassured,” Saye answered. “Your sense of duty has survived the journey.”

Georgiana laughed at Richard's complaint until she had to set down her glass. Elizabeth joined her. When the first candle burned low, she was surprised to discover that she had not once asked whether the post had arrived.

On the last day of their visit, Georgiana asked Elizabeth to sit with her in the music room before the others assembled. A half-finished composition lay upon the stand.

“I wished to write something for you,” Georgiana said. “But I am not certain it is very good.”

“Then you may rely upon my judgment. I am famous for correcting those I love.”

Georgiana sat down, played the opening bars, and stopped. “I was thinking of what you said about your mother. That you could still hear her when you read German. I thought perhaps music might do the same thing.”

Elizabeth came beside her. “It already has.”

“I have been afraid,” Georgiana said, “that when you are married everything here will change, and that I shall not know where to put myself.”

“Everything will change a little,” Elizabeth answered. “But not in the way you fear. I am not coming here to replace anyone. I hope you will still practise with me, disagree with me, and occasionally persuade your brother that I am right.”

“He will accuse us of conspiracy.”

“Then he must learn to live with the truth.”

Georgiana rested her hands upon the keys. "There is something else, Lizzy. William told me, some time ago, that Mr. Wickham had been in Meryton. He said you had been very careful of me."

Elizabeth waited. She had no wish to turn Georgiana's confidence into an account of another person's misconduct.

"For several days I dreaded hearing his name again," Georgiana continued. "I began to think I should refuse every invitation in case someone should speak of him. But I am tired of arranging my life around a gentleman who never thought of my happiness. When Mrs. Reynolds asked whether we should invite the neighboring families to hear the new music next month, I told her yes. I mean to play it myself."

"I shall be sorry to miss the evening," Elizabeth said. "Will you promise to send me an account?"

"No," Georgiana said, with a shy smile. "You may come and hear it. I have already told Mrs. Reynolds to expect you."

When Darcy entered, he found the two young women playing together, the unfinished composition spread between them. He remained by the door until Georgiana beckoned him in. She made room for him on the bench without closing the music. Elizabeth caught his eye over his sister's shoulder and saw his expression soften.

They returned to London by similarly measured stages, leaving time for rest and for the usual changes of horses. No messenger overtook them with startling news from the Continent. As the road turned south, Elizabeth unfolded Georgiana's little note once more before slipping it between the pages of her book, where the corners would not be bent.