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“Thank you, ma’am.”

“But I feel I have been remiss.”

The other woman’s expression showed her surprise. “I am sure you have not.”

“In all the bustle and fuss surrounding my approaching marriage, I have neglected to speak to you about your future, yours and Michael’s. I meant to do so yesterday, but…as you say, I was distracted.”

Stretton tensed, but remained outwardly stoic. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Mr Darcy and I have made some plans for the alteration of Pemberley’s labyrinthian family apartments. Currently, these lodgings include his valet’s room, Mr Darcy’s dressing room, his bedchamber, his sitting room connected to the mistress’s bedchamber, another sitting room for me, my dressing room, and a room for my lady’s maid. We are changing this. He seldom uses his sitting room; therefore, it shall become my own. Hence, I have no need of the mistress’s sitting room, and it can serve as my dressing room instead. That leaves the current dressing room available for you, and the adjoining chamber for Michael.”

Stretton’s eyes widened. “Oh! Truly? Why, I…I…” Tears formed at the corners of her eyes; the maid grew speechless.

Elizabeth smiled reassuringly. “I hope you will remain in your position after my marriage, and raise Michael here. There is a school which all the estate children attend; that Michael should attend as well is Mr Darcy’s only requirement. Your son can run errands as is suitable, but I have noticed him speaking often to Mr Travers, and he can train under him when he is older, if it still suits him. Mr Travers is willing to permit it.”

The tears fell then, although Stretton was obviously trying to keep her emotions under control. “D-does Mrs Reynolds…know?”

Elizabeth understood what she was asking. Knowing the canny housekeeper, she suspected or guessed the truth, but not a question had passed her lips. “I told her only that Mrs Stretton would be continuing in her current position, and explained the refurbishments to allow for Michael’s needs. I detected no surprise or opposition. You are a valued member of my household, and shall continue to be so. You must tell me at once if you encounter anything except respect from others, no matter who they are.”

“Thank you,” Stretton whispered. “Thank you so much for taking such care of us.”

“I thank you,” Elizabeth answered frankly. “You always take such good care of me.”

An hour later, Elizabeth sat at a small table in the library, ostensibly writing a letter to her aunt and uncle Gardiner, but really keeping a close watch on the drive. She did not know when to expect Darcy, but she hoped before noon.

Miss de Bourgh had not come down to dinner the night before, only sending word that she was not feeling up to joining the company. Elizabeth was not quite sure what to do to make her feel comfortable. She knew her own presence in Darcy’s life would make her uneasy. Forever? She did need to speak to him about their new guest, but mostly, she missed him.

How could it have happened so quickly, that his absence could create a giant hole in her happiness? Almost, she was astonished. She had prided herself upon the independent spirit that had enabled her to find contentment in a strange city, a strange home. Suddenly, a day without Darcy seemed like the longest day of her life.

Elizabeth had never been so happy to see a carriage as when it appeared within the hour. She stood, meaning to go to him at once—but from the direction of the portico, a small figure in black hurried out to him, meeting him as he stepped from the carriage.

Miss Anne de Bourgh had, plainly, been watching for him as well.

The other woman’s mouth was rapidly moving, and she gesticulated wildly, giving her an almost frantic appearance; Darcy quickly shepherded her away from the servants who were pretending not to watch.

Elizabeth sighed, and instead of hastening down the stairs to greet Darcy, she moved to the bookshelves. There were at least a hundred books she had already decided she wished to read, and thousands still to explore; she pulled one of them off the shelf and settled down before the fire. Unfortunately, after turning several pages, she had hardly comprehended a word.

Leaning back against the cushions, she gave up the idea of reading. Why am I feeling so…anxious? she wondered. But really, she knew. Miss de Bourgh had arrived distraught, without a companion or even a maidservant. She is disturbed by my very existence, and she seems far too brittle to be sent back to Kent in care of servants. What if Darcy decided he must bring her home himself? She could not forget that his cousin was the bride his entire family had preferred. What if they threw their objections at him? Lady Catherine would not remain silent in the face of the loss of her daughter’s intended bridegroom. She might have already called in the Earl of Matlock to search for her missing daughter.

Well, if he must go, he must. I do trust him. I will return to Sheffield until he returns to Pemberley. I still need to inform Whitby and the Hawthornes of the changes to the home’s use, ensuring they are satisfied—and find new caretakers if they are not. Molly may come here to work, or stay in Sheffield—she must be given a choice.

“Any of my sisters who wish to come with me might do so, whilst my parents remain at Pemberley,” she said aloud to the empty room. It made her feel better to prepare herself for a potential delay.

The library door opened, and there he stood, tall, solid, smiling, moving towards her. He opened his arms, and she practically flew into them.

“You are back at last,” she said, speaking into his neckcloth, for he held her tightly.

“It feels as though I was gone a month,” he said, lifting her up to his kiss.

“A year, I think,” she said, and then his mouth sealed upon hers, soft at first, and then with increasing passion. Elizabeth forgot about the de Bourghs, earls, servants, and everything else, lost within the feelings of pleasure he inspired.

Suddenly, the door opened, startling them both into breaking off the kiss. Darcy did not let her go, only turned a ferocious frown upon the intruder—whom Elizabeth could not see at all.

“Anne,” he said, sounding mightily annoyed, “I promised you we would speak in an hour, did I not?”

“I have interrupted you.” Somewhat to Elizabeth’s surprise, Miss de Bourgh entered, seeming oblivious to Darcy’s displeasure, and sank into the nearest chair. “Very well. Carry on. I shall wait.”

Elizabeth could not prevent a stifled giggle.