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"By a lady whose objections to interference are as eloquent as her attempts to interfere."

Elizabeth laughed. She wiped her pen and set it down. "Poor Charles. I hope you told him to have courage."

"I did. He asked whether you might write to your cousin first, to ensure she would not be surprised."

"And then you would be conducting his courtship through me, which would absolve neither of us."

"I fear you understand my position."

Their conversation moved to wedding plans. Darcy suggested a small ceremony in the winter, when Elizabeth would have time to recover from the recent excitement and Albrecht could attend without immediately contemplating another difficult journey. Elizabeth confessed that she had been tempted to postpone the wedding until the following spring solely because she could not bear the thought of having to choose between families.

"There is no choice," Darcy said. "Your uncle will be welcome at Pemberley. So will my uncle and aunt, and Saye, and Richard, however much he may object to the rules of the house."

"And Georgiana?"

"Georgiana will consider the house her own refuge whether we invite her or not."

"A fortunate prospect. I should be lonely without someone who enjoys music more than discussing how music ought to be played."

He watched her smile. "I have considered that you might wish a room where you may keep your mother's books. The small library overlooking the east lawn is seldom used. You could make it your own."

Elizabeth's expression changed. "You would not mind my filling it with German volumes?"

"I imagine I shall benefit from the instruction."

"I had thought you nearly proficient."

"I am proficient at knowing when you are laughing at me. I have yet to determine what you are saying."

She reached for his hand across the writing table. "Then it shall be our room. You may learn the language, and I shall learn how one manages an estate that does not fit within the bounds of Hertfordshire."

"You have long known how to manage me. Pemberley should present no greater challenge."

Elizabeth shook her head at the solemnity with which he delivered the nonsense. She had not known, when she was sixteen, how much happiness could be found in a future discussed without anxiety. Mr. Collins had spoken of a marriage as payment for a debt. Darcy spoke of it as a home they would build together.

The following morning Darcy and Elizabeth took their customary walk along the quieter side of the garden while the household was occupied with correspondence. They had spoken often of their wedding and less often of the simple days that would follow it.

"Do you like the east room best?" Elizabeth asked. "At Pemberley, I mean."

"I had supposed you preferred the library."

"I do. But I should like one room in which Georgiana never feels she must ask whether her music disturbs us."

Darcy slowed. "Then we shall give her the east room for music."

"No, Fitzwilliam. We shall ask her which room she prefers. She is not a parcel to be lodged wherever we decide." Elizabeth's tone was gentle enough that he could smile at the correction.

They stopped beneath a beech tree. Darcy reached for her hand and found it cold despite the season. He tucked it between both of his for a moment, then released it when footsteps sounded from the terrace. They had become adept at recognizing the limits society placed upon their affection, but Elizabeth wished suddenly that she might walk beside him without measuring every gesture.

That evening Darcy asked Georgiana to choose the room in which she most liked to practice. His sister looked at him in surprise before she answered. Elizabeth did not know about the conversation until Georgiana wrote to thank her, and then she kept the letter beside Minna's locket for several days.

Later that week Georgiana came for tea. She had brought a composition she wished Elizabeth to hear and a letter from a music teacher who hoped to introduce her to a small, suitable circle of accomplished young women. Georgiana had not yet been formally presented in society, but she was beginning to enjoy supervised gatherings with people of her own age, and Elizabeth encouraged her without forcing any haste.

"I believe I should like to play the new piece when you are married," Georgiana said, arranging the music. "I have made the middle passage less melancholy."

"If you can make Richard less melancholy while he watches us married, I shall consider the composition miraculous."

"Richard will not be melancholy," Georgiana replied. "He will be talking."