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Miss Darcy had gone to stay with her aunt and uncle in Matlock. Even the colorful Lady Catherine de Bourgh and her daughter Anne had returned to Kent.

Except for Mr. Bingley’s relations and Colonel Fitzwilliam, only George Wickham remained, but he had taken to spending most of his time in the neighboring town of Lambton.

All alone on an early morning ramble, Elizabeth reflected on how different things were from how she had first imagined they would be upon her arrival, so full of hope for what her sister’s future life entailed.

She knew not to be too worried about her sister even as she thought back over the disparaging things that the younger Bingley sister had espoused regarding her brother’s constancy.

Were these things said for my benefit? Elizabeth could not help but wonder at the time. On the other hand, Charles Bingley’s friend, Mr. Darcy, had said something similar confirming in Elizabeth’s mind that it must be a fair albeit unflattering portrayal of the young man’s character: “In no time at all, my brother shall be violently in love with another fair headed angel.”

She closed her eyes and prayed that this would not be the case. At length, Elizabeth persuaded her busy mind to cease being Miss Bingley’s accomplice in robbing her of her equanimity.

When Jane and I are reunited in Hertfordshire, I shall have a chance to observe the young man in a whole new light, and then I will know whether to worry about my sister’s marital felicity. Until such time, what is the point in entertaining such a troublesome concern?

Elizabeth’s thoughts tended to her own situation. Her circle of intimate acquaintances had broadened indeed. She thought fondly enough of Colonel Fitzwilliam and had spent enough time in his company to know that they would no doubt fall readily into agreeable conversation again when next they met, even if that occasion should occur some years down the road. And despite his admonishments to her to be weary of George Wickham’s charm, Elizabeth could not honestly say that she had seen anything in his character that would suggest he was indeed a dishonorable man. On the contrary, she liked him very much. Although she was sensible enough not to completely disregard the colonel’s advice, especially since the colonel’s words were bolstered by his cousin Fitzwilliam Darcy’s views.

Thus, Elizabeth was content to consider Mr. Wickham a friend indeed, just not one who might ever be mistaken as one of her intimate friends.

I should like to think that Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy and I are intimate friends.

So long as she had thought of the gentleman as Jane’s prospective husband, her sentiments toward him, she likened to a betrayal of sorts—not an easy sentiment to feel toward one’s most beloved sister by any stretch of the imagination.

But that had been before Jane eloped with the gentleman’s best friend. At times, when she gave herself permission to even consider such a thing, she supposed that Jane’s act might have been viewed as a betrayal as well.

True, there was no formal commitment on either Jane or Mr. Darcy’s part to enter a courtship, but with that being the underlying motive for the Bennets to travel so far and to remain at Pemberley for so long, it was not unreasonable to expect some sort of commitment toward that end.

Once again, Elizabeth paused to consider perhaps that was never the reason for their stay in Derbyshire at all, even as she could not bring herself to think that they had all been ill-used.

Jane had spoken of destiny. She really did believe that things turned out exactly as there were meant to be. I must content myself with the truth of my sister’s words and dwell on what otherwise might have been no longer.

Heading back to the manor house, Elizabeth was surprised to see Mr. Darcy heading toward her. His steps were too deliberate for her to suppose that he was walking that way with any purpose other than meeting her. Elizabeth halted her own steps and waited.

She could not help comparing the man that he was at that moment to the man he was when she first laid eyes on him. In physical appearance, he was very much the same.

She detected in his manner, however, a changed man. One who bore an enormous weight on his shoulders, a man now responsible for all that surrounded them. The new master of Pemberley.

As a brother, a landlord, a master, how many people’s happiness is in his guardianship! How much of pleasure or pain is in his power to bestow! How much of good or evil might be done by him!

During those endless seconds, she was not unaware that she had changed as well. Her dreams were less fanciful—her hopes more realistic.

“Miss Elizabeth,” he said bowing. “Pardon me, Miss Bennet,” he corrected, no doubt in recognition of her newly earned status as the eldest unwed Bennet daughter.

She said, “Sir, I would like to think that we know each other very well by now, having spent the better part of the past several months in each other’s company, that such formality between us is not necessary.”

“Then what shall I call you?” he began, “for it would be my greatest wish to call you by your given name, Elizabeth.”

The implication of her words struck her, but she did not want to presume anything, although his words really did suggest a manner of intimacy that had remained unexplored for what was perhaps too long, at least on her part.

“You wish to address me by my given name, sir?”

“When it is just the two of us alone like this, one man and one woman who have grown to know each other in the manner that the two of us have. Pray tell me that I do not presume too much.”

Before Elizabeth could fashion her response, he said, “I was standing at my window when I saw you walking, and I deliberately sought you out, so that we might spend time together in privacy - in a manner which has eluded us for the past week.”

He silently encouraged her to turn and walk with him in the direction opposite of her original destination. “In vain, I have struggled,” he began after what appeared to be a bout of silent debate. “It will not do. You must allow me to tell you how much I have grown to care for you. From the moment I first saw you, I felt that I had caught a glimpse of my destiny.”

He stopped walking, encouraging Elizabeth to do the same. Taking her hand in his, he said, “I shall not ask you to put your life on hold as I suffer this period of mourning, settling my father’s affairs, and assuming my duties as master of Pemberley for I do not know that it would be fair to you. I will, however, ask that you grant me this one thing.”

The power of her astonishment was such that she did not know immediately what to say. At length, she responded, “What is it?”