Lizzy laughed. “We must find a nice lady for you, Richard. You are far too wayward. Capricious, poor soul. You need a steady girl to stabilize you.”

“Shackle, you mean,” George spoke in defense of his friend. “Not all men are destined for domesticity, dear Elizabeth. Some of us prefer being footloose and fancy free! Although having a woman about can have its advantages, I suppose. Back massages, home decorating, darning socks, that sort of thing, eh, William?”

“Precisely, uncle. That is why I chose marriage,” Darcy answered seriously, eyes twinkling and meeting Lizzy's.

“The day I darn socks will be the day the sun fails to rise. Back massages are acceptable, however.” She and Darcy shared a brief, knowing smile.

Yet holding his wife's eyes, Darcy spoke to his uncle and cousin, “Speaking of matrimony, I am thankful that you both are here and do pray you intend to stay for a while. Elizabeth has agreed to marry me, again, in a ceremony at Pemberley Chapel.”

Col. Fitzwilliam smiled delightfully, lifting his glass Lizzy's direction. George whistled and declared with a grin, “Romantic gesture of the highest order, indeed. Well done, William! How marvelous for me as I missed the official nuptials. When is the date?”

“We have not decided as of yet,” Darcy answered, still gazing at Lizzy. “I was opting for November twenty-eight as a perfect commemoration of the happiest day of my entire life.”

“I, however,” Lizzy interrupted softly, “reminded my husband that I will be as enormous as a house by late November, if not in the actual throes of birth travails. Additionally it somehow seems irreverent to waddle down the church aisle to be wed while clearly nearly to burst with child!”

“I do believe, my dear niece, that it is far too late to hide that fact. Besides, I am sure God is privy to the fact that you two are already legally and spiritually bound, and shall withhold the lightning bolt.”

Lizzy reddened but persevered, “All true, Dr. Darcy. I think we should wait until after the baby is born…”

“And I,” it was Darcy's turn to interrupt, “refuse to wait that long. I have a burning urge to exchange vows with my wife in the Darcy family chapel. She has accepted my proposal so cannot renege on the agreement.” He spoke with a slight edgy tone and clenched jaw, but wore a smile for Lizzy and eyes indigo with desire.

“Well,” George boomed as he rose with a spine-cracking stretch, “I am free all next week. You, Colonel?”

“My docket is empty for a couple weeks,” Richard shrugged. “A wedding is an adequate entertainment, I suppose.”

With the family thus settled, the last weeks of September glided by with happy serenity felt all around. The weather held clement and sunlit during the day with a slight chilling come sundown. The gradual metamorphosis about the extensive grounds began as autumn colors invaded, leaves burnished with golds and reds. The emergence of the multihued dahlia, purple toad lily, marguerite daisy, calendula, nasturtium, rosemary, and salvias provided a fresh plethora of vibrant color and fragrance to the summer-fading blooms. The numerous bushes with variegated foliage accented the already dazzling displays. The gardeners were especially busy preparing the vast gardens for the winter freeze and spring flowering, bulbs arriving by the wagon loads.

Lizzy watched the digging for several days before gathering the nerve to ask Mr. Clark if she could assist with the care of the private garden to the east of the manor. If he was shocked or dismayed in any way by her request, it did not show. Thus it was that Lizzy could be found most days on her knees in the soft turf with two gardeners named Robert and Harry aiding nearby. Naturally the modest garden was already faultless, and Lizzy had no desire to radically transform anything. She merely wished to plant a few of her favorite plants and to fulfill a long-standing pleasure to work with soil and flora, gardening having always been a pastime she enjoyed.

Additionally, she resumed her duties as Mistress. She had not consciously recognized missing the simple household tasks while on her holiday, but once confronted with the pile of papers Mrs. Reynolds had carefully organized on her desk, she delved in with nearly as much gusto as Darcy. Naturally Mrs. Reynolds had managed all matters efficiently during her Mistress's absence, but she had no qualms with relegating authority to Mrs. Darcy. Rather she considered it her proper duty to do so. Thus the ledgers, purchasing notes, detailed lists of tasks completed, staff concerns, and so on were methodically perused in a series of meetings between the two women over several days.

Lizzy and Darcy rediscovered the contentment of evenings working side by side at their sitting room desks and in the joyful sharing of estate business. They naturally fell into the previous pattern of quietly attending to individual tasks or engaging in extended discussion of estate affairs. Darcy had accepted his wife's innate common sense that frequently opened a new avenue of thought regarding a subject or dilemma. However, in general he managed the business of Pemberley with minimal input, and Lizzy was unconcerned since she knew he did not need her participation. Plus there was still a large amount of his ventures that she simply did not comprehend. Instead, the dialogues were more for the joy of sharing.

Lizzy's curricle was utilized frequently as the fair weather continued. Darcy fretted, as always, but kept his fears mostly hidden. His only stipulation—stated softly but with an edge—was that she never travel too far and always have Georgiana as her companion. To this she agreed. Fortunately her dearest friends were in close proximity.

Sanburl Hall, home of Harriet Vernor, was less than two miles from door to door. She could easily walk the distance, and had numerous times during the spring and early summer months, but walking long distances was fast becoming a difficulty. Marilyn Hughes lived three and a half miles away, Rymas Park nestled on the edge of Rymas Brook and such a beautifully serene locale with the forest encasing the quaint house that Lizzy delighted in her visits there. The need to feel the wind upon her face and command the little carriage was too great to completely ignore, so even when a visit was not planned, Lizzy and Georgiana would commandeer the vehicle for a jaunt about the estate and a picnic.

Generally, however, her friends chose to visit Pemberley, all of them understanding the necessity for their pregnant friend to remain close to home. Julia Sitwell and Alison Fitzherbert, who lived near each other in the region north of Chesterfield, journeyed together for a stay of three days. Of course it pleased Darcy considerably to have his wife safe within Pemberley's walls, a fact not entirely lost on any of the women!

When not attending to business of some kind, digging in the garden, or visiting with her lady friends, Lizzy was usually with Georgiana.

“What song are you playing? I have never heard that one before.” Lizzy glanced up from her embroidery, directing the question toward her sister-in-law, who was entertaining on the pianoforte.

Georgiana reddened, evading Lizzy's quizzical look. “I wrote it,” she replied in a small voice, speaking louder at the dawning astonishment on Lizzy's face, “but you cannot tell William! Promise me.”

“Why not? It was beautiful, Georgiana. I had no idea you had composed music. I am very impressed and know William would be as well.”

“I do not think he would understand. And besides, it is merely a trifling thing. Not very good at all.”

“I beg to differ. It was lovely. Perhaps not of the quality to worry Mr. Beethoven that he has serious competition, but certainly enjoyable to hear.”

Georgiana laughed at Lizzy's tease. “No, I doubt any true composers need be threatened.” She sighed, her eyes suddenly dreamy. “It was fun to try my hand at writing. Lizzy,” she paused, speaking haltingly when she resumed, “do you believe, as Uncle says, that someday females will be able to… be more… be accepted beyond… not be frowned upon or chastised for pursuing… something else… or. Oh, I am making no sense!”

Lizzy laughed. “I understand you, Georgiana. Your uncle is a bit of a revolutionary, is he not?”

Georgiana nodded, giggling. “Indeed. Although I think he usually says radical comments just to see William's face and enter a debate. Still, it would be nice to have an option in life.”

“Do you not wish to be a wife and mother?”

“Oh yes! Yes, I do!” Georgiana nodded emphatically. “Very much! But,” she rose then, pacing with uncharacteristic energy, “there are times, when I am listening to music, or learning a new piece, when I will see notes upon a sheet in my mind. New notes, joined uniquely as the sounds play within my head, forming sections and whole movements. Cadenza, scherzo, ostinato, toccata. Melodies I have never heard before. Unfamiliar arrangements.”

She stopped, sighing and shrugging. “So I write them down, sometimes. Wondering if they are truly my own ideas or lost remembrances.”

“I see nothing wrong with you placing your musical visions upon paper, Georgiana. If this is a gift you have been granted, then explore it! Creating music, even if only enjoyed by a few, is a beautiful, worthwhile endeavor.”

“You do not think it silly? A waste of time?”

“Of course not. Why is it any different than painting or weaving? If you enjoy writing your own songs, you should. I know I would love to hear more. How many have you composed?”

“Only a few sonatas, an impromptu, and I am working on a nocturne. All of a romantic bent, thus confirming my hopes in life and lack of wild inspiration.” She finished with a laugh.