Elizabeth woke early the morning after the wedding and hurried to dress. Her room was elegant, and she was touched to see the small ways Darcy had attempted to make it welcoming to her. There were dried flowers scenting the air, and a selection of books on one end-table. She lifted one and cracked the spine, surprised to see that it was new. She replaced it on top of its brothers with a warm smile. How thoughtful he was, and how well he knew her!

Her heart sank a little, then, when she recalled the previous evening. Their guests had stayed late, celebrating and happy, but at last, they had gone and Darcy and Elizabeth were left alone. She had been unsure what their arrangements might be that evening, considering that they were both still holding to the pretence of their marriage being only a formal arrangement. She had allowed herself to be swept up in the romance of it, fancying she saw genuine affection in Darcy's features when their eyes met and they exchanged their vows. She had continued in the dream until Colonel Fitzwilliam's speech at their wedding breakfast, when he began reading notes that had been sent by friends and family unable to attend the ceremony but still wishing to pass on their congratulations. They had been taken with pleasure and good humour, as they were intended, until one was read that cause Darcy's face to fall into a frown. Elizabeth had tried to ask him about it, both at the time and later in the evening, and on both occasions received nought but a short dismissal and an attempt to change the subject. It had been then that he had escorted her to her room. There was a door, he had muttered, that connected between this and the room behind it, which was his, but - and this was a point he was very clear on - the door was locked and the key would remain in her possession. Things may differ, he had said, at Pemberley, but this seems a suitable arrangement for the time being. And with a stern nod, he had departed, leaving her alone.

She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, and forced herself to smile.

Well, Elizabeth, this was the agreement you made. And in any case, being given a room of your own, with new books and the promise of Pemberley in the future is far and away more enticing than anything that might have been yours, had you been forced to wed Mr Collins. Suitably cheered by this thought, she beckoned her lady's maid in, and hurried to dress. She took her time walking down to breakfast, admiring the art that Darcy had chosen for display and running her fingertips over the delicately carved wooden furniture that lined the walls. Despite her slow progress, it was still early when she reached the dining room, so she was started to see Darcy already there, with a small pile of letters to his right.

"Good morning," she said, affecting a cheerfulness she did not entirely feel. It was strange how shy she felt, now faced with the man who had become her husband.

Darcy pushed his chair back, standing to greet her.

"Good morning, Miss - Mrs - Elizabeth." He smiled, and Elizabeth's shyness vanished. He was still the same Darcy, the same man she had come to respect and appreciate and - but never mind that. He was looking at her expectantly, and she felt the sudden sense that he had asked her a question that demanded an answer, and she had missed it.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" she asked, sliding into her seat, and watching him echo her motion.

"I enquired as to whether you slept well last night? I trust the room was - that is, that you were comfortable?"

"Very," Elizabeth said, with a smile. "It is a perfect room: the very one I might have chosen for myself, had I been asked."

This answer evidently pleased Darcy, for his returning smile stayed in place, settling around the edges of his lips.

"And I must thank you for the books," Elizabeth continued, reaching for a cup of tea. "You are very kind."

"Kind, nothing!" Darcy said, with a short laugh. "I think it well within a husband's rights to be able to purchase a novel or two for his wife."

Elizabeth delighted to hear the words trip so naturally from his lips.

"What plans do you have for the day?" she asked, nodding towards his pile of letters. "You must not allow me to keep you from your tasks."

"Tasks?" With one motion, Darcy swept the pile of letters aside. "I was merely marking time until you joined me. I am entirely at your service today. What would you most like to do? We might take a walk, for I well recall your fondness for activity. You must be aching for some greenery." He cast a rueful glance towards the window. "Perhaps we might visit one of the parks? St James', or Regent's."

Elizabeth nodded.

"I should like that very much!"

"We might call on your family, if you wish it, too?" There was a light in Darcy's eyes and for a moment, Lizzy could not tell if his suggestion was a serious one or an attempt at humour. "Despite what you may imagine of me, I do know the way to Cheapside."

Elizabeth laughed, certain, now, that he had been making a joke.

"You mean you did not have your fill of Bennet attention yesterday?" she teased, filling her plate. She was suddenly ravenous, and her spirits, which had flirted with being downcast that morning at last felt suitably lifted. She recalled to mind Darcy's assertion, in his proposal, that even if they did not possess the sweeping affection popularised by romances they were friends, and could well enjoy one another's company.

"I weathered it as well as any man might, on the day he is married," he conceded. "But I am also aware that this is all so sudden a change for you that you might be eager to see familiar faces once more." He placed his knife and fork together, neatly, on his plate and laced his fingers together beneath his chin. "Did not you wish for Jane to stay in London? She is more than welcome to stay here, rather than with your aunt and uncle, if it would please you. We can send a carriage for her belongings today, if you wish?"

"You are very kind," Lizzy began. "But just yesterday, Jane suggested that she would, in fact, prefer to return to Hertfordshire with our family." Her heart sank. "I had so wished for her to stay here, but…"

News of Mr Bingley's arrival in London precipitated Jane's leaving, I am sure of it! She attacked her food with her knife, slicing with rather more ferocity than was necessary. Despite her plan to reunite the pair on neutral ground, Jane had insisted she would not care to see him again, and in fact the very thought of staying near where she knew him to be caused her so much anxiety that she would very much prefer to be at home again, if it would not disappoint her sister greatly.

"In that case," Darcy said, after a moment of quiet contemplation. "I will send just one letter this morning, before we take our leave."