"And this," said Mrs Reynolds, "ladies and gentleman, is the dining-parlour." With a small hand gesture, the housekeeper, a respectable-looking, elderly woman, allowed Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner and their second-eldest niece, Elizabeth, to pass into the room. Like many of the other rooms of Pemberley they had already viewed, the dining-parlour was a large, well-proportioned room, handsomely fitted up.

Mrs. Reynolds began to recount, with great pride, the history of the room's furnishings, but Elizabeth, after slightly surveying it, went to a window to enjoy its prospect. The hill, crowned with wood, from which they had descended, receiving increased abruptness from the distance, was a beautiful object. Every disposition of the ground was good; and she looked on the whole scene – the river, the trees scattered on its banks, and the winding of the valley, as far as she could trace it - with delight.

"I have never seen a house so happily situated," Elizabeth thought with a smile and sigh of contentment. Feeling the necessity of returning her attention to her guide, Elizabeth turned to face the room, only to find herself alone. She suddenly felt quite disoriented by this discovery and, though she was aware of the action's futility, began searching the room for the members of her party.

"I suppose," Elizabeth said aloud, with a sharp exhale, hands on her hips, "I must resign myself to my fate." And with that, she set forth at a determined pace, as she was known to do, after her relatives. A good quarter of an hour was spent passing from room to room, decelerating her pace only long enough in each room to confirm the absence of people, and to admire the décor.

The wisdom of this plan, or perhaps, the lack of it, soon settled upon her and caused her to waver in her conviction, as she entered another beautifully and sensibly decorated, yet completely unfamiliar, room. She finally halted just a few steps into what appeared to be the morning room with its East facing windows, allowing a rather handsome prospect of an exquisite rose garden, bordered by trimmed hedges and climbing trellised archways.

During this pause in Elizabeth's search, she heard something quite peculiar, but by no means unwelcome. Softly on the rose-scented summer air that permeated the rooms of Pemberley, floated the distant yet distinct notes of a pianoforte; such a beautifully melancholy, pure sound, but more attractive still was the notion that there was a person inciting such music whom could help Elizabeth find her way.

Fitzwilliam Darcy stared out the window of his carriage, feeling a greater sense of relief, to perceive those beautiful woods, than he had ever previously experienced. Home, he thought as he rested his head back and finally allowed himself to close his eyes. Sleep seemed to completely evade him recently, especially over the last three days spent travelling to Derbyshire from Kent. Stretched-out days filled with the insistent rocking of the carriage and hours of passing countryside which, due to the overcast weather, blurred into monotonous sameness; transitioning into even longer restless nights, which were impuissant against the darkness of his fears. If he had travelled by horse, he would be returned to his sanctuary in half the time and without the idleness forcing his mind to reflect on recent events. Ordinarily, Darcy would employ his time, and distract his thoughts, by reading a volume from his expansive library, or finding and admiring the beauty that manifests in nature; however, this was not an ordinary circumstance.

As the carriage descended the hill and crossed the bridge leading to Pemberley, Darcy finally felt just at ease enough to allow his mind to be still, at least for a moment. But alas, it was only a moment he was allowed as the sleeping form beside him stirred from her slumber and lifted her head from his shoulder. Darcy's eyes immediately darted open and searched his dear sister's face for any sign alluding to her present thoughts.

It was not difficult for him to see that his sister, Georgiana, was as troubled as he, though she tried her best to conceal it. She appeared a little too serene; and that smile, which once so often graced her features, was now not to be seen. But merely an hour ago, as her fatigue overwhelmed her composure, she rested her head on her brother's shoulder and silently wept. Never before had Mr. Darcy felt so powerless. He had failed her, and he was not going to let that happen again.

The carriage came to a halt before the front of Pemberley, and Darcy alighted the carriage and offered his hand to Georgiana as she dismounted. Georgiana vacantly accepted his hand and followed him up the stairs to the great house, without uttering a word or betraying her thoughts. This, it occurred to Darcy, was far more distressing than had she rushed up to the house and to her bedroom in a burst of tears.

"Welcome home, sir." Mr. Wilson, the Darcy family's loyal butler of twenty years, greeted the elder brother just inside the door. Mr. Wilson was a tall, formidable man, whose thick eyebrows frequently knitted together, for no other reason but for that is what they were wont to do. Despite his intimidating appearance, Mr. Wilson had a warm, kind manner, which made him well respected and appreciated by his master.

"Thank you, Wilson," Darcy replied, trying his utmost to restrain his concern and fatigue from expressing itself in his tone and across his features. Mr. Wilson noted his master's distraction, but attributed it to the long journey from Kent.

"Ah, Miss Darcy!" Wilson's features softened, as he perceived the young woman's presence. "Welcome home, indeed." Georgiana nodded in thanks, before retreating to the music room, where she hoped to find solace. Her hurried departure did not go unnoticed on the two men, who both silently starred after the direction she had gone, lost in their own thoughts.

"Please," said Mr. Darcy, interrupting both their ruminations, "inform Mrs. Reynolds that we are just arrived from Kent and will require some refreshments, which we will take in the music room." Darcy turned to follow after his sister.

"Mrs. Reynolds is engaged at present, sir." Wilson replied, causing Darcy to turn back towards the butler in curiosity. With a look, Darcy instructed Wilson to continue, who obliged, "Not half an hour ago, two ladies and a gentleman called upon the house, with assurance that none of the family were currently in residence, to humbly receive a tour. Mrs. Reynolds is accommodating this request." Darcy closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in agitation.

"Wilson," Darcy began, in a measured tone. "I do not doubt your astuteness, especially in regards to myself and my sister. I am certain you noticed Georgiana's affected manner just now. It is of the utmost importance that she be allowed privacy; and therefore, would you please inform Mrs. Reynolds that we will not be receiving guests until I say otherwise."

"Very good, sir." Wilson answered, attempting to suppress the surprise in his voice. As Darcy headed towards his study, Wilson couldn't help but think, in all his years of service to the Darcy family, though aware of the young Mr. Darcy's preferment of small, intimate gatherings over the loud, exuberant balls offered by London Society, Wilson had never known him to be so inhospitable. There must be some reason for this, he thought, and as the image of a very changed Georgiana entered his mind and reinforced his thoughts, he set to the task of seeking out Mrs. Reynolds. A moment later, the empty entrance hall echoed with the haunting notes of Beethoven's fourteenth sonata.

It didn't take Elizabeth long to navigate through the house to the room producing music; however, as she slowly crossed the drawing room towards the ajar doors of what she assumed was the music room, she became apprehensive. Gingerly, she moved to peer through the crack in the door. The performer, a young woman, sat at an impressive instrument situated before the room's only windows, which occupied most of the wall. The dull, white light from the cloud-concealed sun poured softly onto the performer, illuminating her blonde curls and formed figure, and casting elegant shadows on her face.

Elizabeth, with quiet, deliberate movements, so as not to disturb the performer, opened one of the doors and immersed herself into the room. She could now see the woman's face. The musician's cerulean eyes were fixed upon some intangible mark in the distance, and held such deep expression of sadness and loss, as to render the features of her face, though she could not be older than sixteen, mature and worldly-wise. Elizabeth perceived her grief translating through the music and, despite being ignorant of its genesis, she felt as though she was intimately acquainted with it, that the young woman behind the piano had confided in Elizabeth herself, and it broke her heart.

As the last chord resonated, Elizabeth, so moved by the performance, instinctively began applauding. The abrupt sound broke the performer's trance and, with a gasp, she jumped up from the piano stool, staring wildly at Elizabeth in trepidation.

"Forgive me," Elizabeth hurriedly spoke, "I did not mean to startle you." Perceiving just how startled the poor creature was, Elizabeth proceeded gently with caution, as one does when approaching a frightened mare. "I had just been silently admiring you play, and indeed, it was such a marvellous performance that, I confess, it made me quite forget myself." At this, the young woman calmed slightly and elegantly blushed. "I believe it would be most impertinent for me to continue without introducing myself. Miss Elizabeth Bennet, at your service." Elizabeth curtsied respectfully to the young woman, who responded in kind.

"Miss Georgiana Darcy," the performer replied in a soft, shy voice and, for the first time in three days, smiled. It was a small smile, but it was sweet, innocent, and full of warmth; and though she still appeared guarded, it seemed to Elizabeth that her demeanour conveyed more serenity than it had a moment before. "It is a pleasure, Miss Bennet."

"The pleasure is mine, Miss Darcy." Perceiving the change in Miss Darcy's countenance caused the same effect in Elizabeth herself, and hence, she continued with more confidence. "Your home is very beautiful. I daresay if I lived here I should never wish to leave."

"I agree entirely!" Miss Darcy replied with a charming, quiet enthusiasm. But then, suddenly, and without warning, the joy and lightness of spirit that Miss Darcy had just exhibited evaporated, and in their place came a shadow of shame and distress that weighed heavily on her mind and features. Once again, her gaze became fixated on some incorporeal, faraway point, yet communicated a profound sadness to Elizabeth, who immediately felt a swell of compassion within her for the young lady.

"Miss Darcy," Elizabeth called softly, hoping to rouse Miss Darcy from her sorrowful daze, "I know I am a stranger, and therefore, I am not acquainted with whatever is troubling you, nor do I wish to be if you yourself do not want it; but please, do not let it burden you. It is clear that there are many people here who care about you and wish you well." Georgiana casted down her haunted eyes as they clouded with tears. Anxious to soothe her, Elizabeth continued, "Mrs Reynolds, for one, thinks very highly of you. Indeed, she told me so herself."

Georgiana timidly met Elizabeth's gaze and, with a small, curious voice, inquired, "What did she say?"

Elizabeth, with an impish grin, answered by impersonating the lady in question, "Why, she is the handsomest young lady that ever was seen; and so accomplished! - She plays and sings all day long."

By the good-humoured impression and compliments, Miss Darcy was quite diverted, and she could not help but laugh with her new friend, for that is what Elizabeth had just become. Together they sat on a sofa halfway through the room, and talked and laughed of their families and avocations, the cause of the younger lady's distress, for the time being, quite forgotten.

At the same moment as this discussion was taking place, a familiar knock came on the dark oak door to Darcy's study.

"Come in, Wilson." The master of Pemberley called from behind his desk, engrossed in a piece of correspondence from a friend.

Wilson opened the door and strode a few paces in, with all the appearance of pride and duty as the role of Butler in the grand Pemberley House befitted. However, as he addressed his master, Wilson felt a twinge of apprehension towards the news he was to relay, or more, the effect it would have on the recipient. "I have located Mrs. Reynolds," said he, "and informed her of your instructions, sir".

"Very good, Wilson," replied Mr. Darcy, without looking up from his letter; but when Wilson lingered uncertainly where he stood, Darcy met him with his gaze. "Was there something else, Wilson?"

"No, sir." Wilson stated and turned to leave, but, after a moment, reconsidered. "That is to say, yes, sir."

Darcy placed his letter on the desk and leaned back in his chair, with his hands clasped on his abdomen. "What is troubling you, Wilson?"

"Thank you, sir, nothing is troubling me." Wilson answered, "However, I was made slightly… concerned upon relaying your message to Mrs. Reynolds. When I found her, she was with the party touring the house; only, one of the group, a Miss Elizabeth Bennet, has disappeared."

Mr. Darcy rose swiftly from his chair, his countenance immediately transformed into one of vigilance and indignation. "Disappeared?" Mr. Darcy inquired, almost to himself, as he was soon preoccupied by his racing thoughts. After several moments had passed in distracted silence, he crossed the room toward the door in long strides. "I shall join my sister in the music room. Please come and inform me when the entire party has left."

No sooner had Darcy concluded his direction to the butler than he had quitted the room, and moved quite determinedly through the Entrance Hall.

Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Disappeared. "What woman is this," thought Mr. Darcy, "who goes missing as an uninvited guest in a stranger's home? Such foolishness and carelessness of behaviour is, by nature, intolerable and abhorrent." Although Mr. Darcy was aware his was a juvenile overreaction to this information, he found himself unable to restrain himself from it, as its grounding was in his sense of responsibility to protect his dear younger sister, especially after so recently failing her in that.

He suddenly halted as an unsavoury image claimed his mind. It was a face, a familiar face; one, which Darcy had been certain he would never see again. That was, until the events of Ramsgate but a week ago. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, dispelling those thoughts from his mind for the present. Composing himself and straightening his posture that had, without his knowledge, slouched in defeat from his ruminations, he resumed his journey to his sister with fixed determination. As Darcy approached the open doors to the music room, he heard a sound so unexpected that he froze for a moment before racing into the room.

"Miss Bennet," cried Georgiana in the midst of her laughter, which had alarmed her brother. Darcy stood completely still, astonished by his sister transformed before him. It was then, that his attention shifted to the other occupant of the room, and his posture stiffened.

Elizabeth Bennet.