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As for the Gardiners, they were always on the most intimate terms. Darcy, as well as Elizabeth, really loved them and it was very plain for everyone to see that the Gardiners were equally fond of the newlyweds, so much so that they were wont to travel to Derbyshire as frequently as Mr. Gardiner’s business concerns allowed.

Pemberley was now Georgiana’s home, which delighted all three of the Darcys exceedingly. After the loss of both parents, Georgiana comprehended what it was like to be part of a real family once again, and the thought that she would one day leave her brother and her new sister was a prospect she chose not to dwell on. In her mind, her brother was the best man she knew. Her cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam was a close second. As for Elizabeth, Georgiana liked to think of her as everything a sister ought to be.

And what of the Wickhams? Elizabeth preferred not to think of them whenever she could help it. She was glad that her husband had vowed never to receive Mr. Wickham at Pemberley, even though, for her sake, he did what he could to assist him further in his profession. Elizabeth secretly wished she could banish her youngest sister from Pemberley as well; however, she could never truly do such a thing. She also could not escape Lydia’s frequent calls on her purse. Elizabeth persuaded herself that aiding her sister financially was the least she could do.

Lady Catherine, although extremely indignant about the marriage of her nephew, was obliged to do nothing that might provoke him into carrying out his heavily implied and yet unspoken threat. Such restraint as this totally belied the genuine frankness of her character, making any time spent in her presence during the weeks leading up to the nuptials unbearable to those who, for whatever reason, could not escape her. Anne, unable to endure her mother’s frequent complaints that she had not done enough to persuade her cousin of the sincerity of her desire for an alliance between them, went away to Bath with her companion Mrs. Jenkinson, secretly appreciative that she might finally chart her own course in life.

Charlotte could not have been happier for her friend Elizabeth. As it was not in her nature to remind her intimate friend of that which she had strongly suspected all along, not one of her ensuing missives made mention of said fact. But Charlotte knew, and Elizabeth knew too. Mr. Collins was now fully cognizant of the fact that, between Lady Catherine and her nephew, being in the favor of the latter was the stronger bet should some inevitable fate befall Mr. Bennet. He further believed his fair cousin’s visit to his home was what had thrown her into Mr. Darcy’s path. And although he could never admit it so long as Mr. Bennet remained among the living, he silently congratulated himself that in opening his home to his cousin and putting her in Mr. Darcy’s path, he had provided the means of uniting them.

Anyone privy to the sound of music echoing throughout the halls of Pemberley would hardly wonder about the intermittent pauses of Beethoven’s fifth sonata, or whatever piece was being attempted at the time. This was a definite sign that the master and his new bride were not to be interrupted regardless of what was taking place outside the closed doors of the music room.

Darcy was wont to find his way to that particular room with the same strength of determination he had exercised when he was at Rosings and Elizabeth was practicing on the pianoforte in the east library. It was there that he first acknowledged the extent to which he was in her power—and allowed himself to entertain the idea of what it would be like to make her his.

Now she was his, and he was hers. Now he was free to do all the things a man dreamed of doing to his woman, with his woman, and for his woman. Indeed, there was nothing he would not do for his lovely wife. Nothing at all.

On one particular day, Elizabeth was struggling with a particularly complicated piece she had come across while thumbing through the music sheets her husband had given her as a wedding gift.

Elizabeth was never more delighted than when she had occasion to look up from the pianoforte and observe her husband adoring her. His presence did things to her—incredibly indescribable things. Her heart beat just a bit faster when she watched him approach the instrument. He walked behind her to have a look over her shoulder. He then placed his hands on her bare shoulders promisingly.

How she treasured the touch of his soft lips against her skin when he leaned down and feathered kisses along the entire length of her neckline. How she enjoyed it when he whispered softly in her ear. This time was no different. “Allow me to be of service, my love.”

Capturing her breath, she said, “Do you mean to demonstrate how this piece is performed, Mr. Darcy?”

“I do,” he replied.

Silently consenting to his tempting proposal, Elizabeth positioned herself accordingly to make room for her husband, and he sat next to her and commenced playing. She could not help but be amazed and even more so when he began to sing. The impeccable coupling of his deep, rich voice and the effortless manner in which his deft fingers glided across the ebony and the ivory keys in such splendid harmony elicited frissons of excitement mixed with anticipation throughout her body.

Even this he does extraordinarily well.

Impressed by Darcy’s command of the instrument, Elizabeth said, “After all those long hours under your silent scrutiny during my practice sessions at Rosings, I am surprised to discover you are such a great proficient. You have been holding back on me.”

“Indeed—in more ways than you can possibly imagine, my love.”

“Are you quite certain? I have a fairly active imagination, Mr. Darcy.”

Darcy ceased playing and gazed into Elizabeth’s eyes. “Have you ever imagined me doing this, Mrs. Darcy?” Leaning closer, he whispered sweet, titillating promises in her ear. The warm brush of his breath against her skin sent chills all over her body. Darcy took her hand in his, raised it to his lips, and kissed her palm, rendering words yet unspoken utterly unnecessary.

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