As Mr. Darcy settled into his role as Master of Pemberley, she had noted a loosening of his stern demeanor. Colonel Fitzwilliam was a loyal companion who would tease the Master and encourage him to socialize more. Also, his friendship with Mr. Charles Bingley was providential. Mr. Bingley was the polar opposite of Mr. Darcy and, by all outward appearances, the two should have loathed each other. Luckily their relationship had created its own path, and the two young men had formed an abiding bond of mutual affection. Mr. Bingley’s sunny, effervescent nature was a soothing balm to the frequently brooding Mr. Darcy. Mrs. Reynolds began to believe that her dear Mr. Darcy would break out of his self-imposed prison. Her sincerest hope was that he would find a young lady to mend and fill his aching heart.

Then abruptly, that past April, Mr. Darcy had plunged into a dark pit of despondency and depression unlike anything Mrs. Reynolds had previously witnessed. It was not unlike the immense grief to which the former Mr. Darcy had succumbed when his wife had expired. There was no basis for young Mr. Darcy’s anguish, as far as she could ascertain. Eventually he did partially return to the world of the living, but a lingering pain in his blue eyes refused to lift.

Until one glorious day in early September.

Mrs. Reynolds remembered the day vividly, although it had initially dawned virtually identical to all other days. Mr. Darcy was in Town, not expected to return until the next day. Mrs. Reynolds had welcomed visitors to the manor, not a frequent occurrence, but one that happened often enough not to register as significant this time. The visitors, an older couple and their young niece, were polite and gracious.

The niece seemed vaguely uncomfortable and nervous, but Mrs. Reynolds did not dwell on it overly. She executed her duty as tour guide with pleasure, being quite proud of the house and its furnishings. She recalled being a bit startled to discover that the young lady was acquainted with Mr. Darcy as she did not immediately strike Mrs. Reynolds as being in the same class with her master. However, as his personal affairs were for the most part outside her purview, she did not thoroughly ponder the situation.

Toward the end of the tour, the niece became separated from the group. It could not have been more than fifteen minutes before she came bounding around the side of the house to where her aunt and uncle were standing by their carriage, expressing their thanks to Mrs. Reynolds. The lady, Lizzy her aunt called her, was extremely agitated. She insisted on walking back to Lambton, wringing her hands and shifting her feet the entire time she asked to do this. She kept glancing toward the house as if she feared something or someone was going to barge out of the front doors and attack her! It was most unusual. Mrs. Reynolds stood speechless, wishing she knew the root of the young woman’s distress, fearing greatly that something terrible had happened and wondering if she should inquire. In the end, Miss Lizzy left, nigh on running down the road toward the bridge.

Mrs. Reynolds stood in the drive for a few minutes ruminating on the odd behavior of Miss Lizzy. She determined that she would ask the other servants if they had seen the young lady after she had been left behind in the gallery. She needed to guarantee that nothing untoward had occurred. She entered the foyer and ascended the stairs to the main floor, but before she could advance any farther than five feet, she was paralyzed with shock when Mr. Darcy, whom she was unaware was even home, fairly flew out of the parlor door. He was frantic, but his face was radiant and he wore the broadest grin. He skidded to a stop mere seconds before bowling her over.

“Mrs. Reynolds,” he shouted breathlessly, “send word to the stables to resaddle Parsifal, immediately!” Without another word he dashed around the corner, heading toward the stairs leading to his chambers.

She stood there with her mouth hanging open, only then aware that Miss Georgiana was standing in the doorway, also displaying a ridiculously bright smile. “Hurry, Mrs. Reynolds! Do as he asks and then come back and I shall tell you what is happening. Oh, it is the most wonderful thing!”

The next month had been fraught with emotions and angst. Miss Georgiana had told her the whole sorry tale. That Mr. Darcy was head over heels in love with Miss Elizabeth Bennet was an indisputable fact. What was not so clear was whether Miss Bennet was in love with him. Mrs. Reynolds adored her master and was initially vexed, assuming that any lady who had refused him once was unworthy of him. However, as the truth was revealed, she did understand and eventually recognized that Miss Bennet was precisely what Mr. Darcy so urgently required to heal his wounded heart.

Two months ago she and Miss Georgiana had at long last received the missives they had been longing for. Mr. Darcy’s ecstasy at Miss Elizabeth accepting his hand was uncontainable. Mrs. Reynolds had received hundreds of pieces of correspondence from her master over the years, but none remotely similar to the letters he now wrote. Why, she could remit them to a publisher for a book of romantic musings and poetry! Her heart was overflowing with joy.

Mr. Darcy had been quite specific in his orders regarding the new Mistress. His mother’s chambers had been aired out and thoroughly scrubbed. Old furnishings had been removed. His plan was to allow Mrs. Darcy to redecorate the rooms at her leisure, so for now they needed only to be clean and comfortable. He had purchased several items that had been sent ahead, including a new bathing tub and washbasin, a new mattress, a stationery set for her desk, and an enormous painting of a landscape. All he had hinted was that the scene was special in some way and he wished it to be a surprise for his new bride. The painting was to be hung, he instructed, in her dressing room behind the vanity.

He had entrusted Mrs. Reynolds to acquire any feminine objects that were essential and to stock the bathing room with the finest linens. Numerous odd packages had arrived from Mr. Darcy, trinkets, he told her, that he picked up here and there: various hair accoutrements, perfumes, ribbons, small pieces of jewelry, a musical snuffbox, robes with matching slippers, a set of silk handkerchiefs, several books, and other odds and ends. These she had carefully distributed as he instructed. The last touch was numerous vases of flowers randomly placed about the rooms, the largest a bouquet of white roses and lavender to be placed on the vanity.

He also had detailed directives regarding his own bedchamber and private sitting room. They, too, were to be thoroughly cleaned. New bed linens and coverings of a lighter design than the dark colors he usually preferred were sent. Some of the more masculine furnishings were to be removed and exchanged with new pieces he purchased in Town or with specific objects from elsewhere in the manor. The small table was replaced with a larger one with two overstuffed chairs. The old rug, a remnant from when the rooms were his father’s, was discarded and replaced with a gorgeous Persian carpet of pale blues and golds. The overall effect was subtle; the rooms were already beautifully decorated, but the changes added an airiness that was altogether inviting.

Mrs. Reynolds was not an innocent. She comprehended that her master was of the conviction that his wife would be sharing his quarters much of the time. The former Mrs. Darcy had done so, except for when she was confined or ill, so Mrs. Reynolds was not shocked by this. In fact, it amplified her happiness to know that her master had fallen in love with such a woman.

Mr. Darcy had written to his aunt, Lady Matlock, soliciting her assistance in hiring a lady’s maid for Elizabeth. She had gladly done so, sending three women to Mrs. Reynolds to be interviewed. Mrs. Reynolds had settled on a Frenchwoman of thirty named Marguerite, who was an experienced lady’s maid. Her recommendations were impeccable, and she had agreed to a probationary period pending Mrs. Darcy’s final approval.

The staff had been quite busy over the past weeks ensuring all was in perfect readiness. Mr. Darcy’s last letter had arrived the day of his wedding. He directed Mrs. Reynolds to have a light supper prepared, to ignite the welcome torches on the grounds, to have their chambers warm and well lit, and to assemble the senior household staff for a quick greeting of the new Mistress. The flurry of activity that had descended on the normally placid household was concluded. Mrs. Reynolds strolled, for the umpteenth time, through the house guaranteeing that all was flawless. A sentry was stationed by the main road to alert Mrs. Reynolds the moment the Darcy carriage was spotted.

Nothing for it now but to wait.…

The trip to Pemberley was uneventful. Lizzy was anxious and excited at the same time. I am going home! She kept repeating this to herself so it would truly penetrate her heart and soul.