“Lizzy, I have a sister. I wanted a wife and, at the risk of congratulating myself, after some very humbling trial and error on my own part, I got the wife I wanted. I well remember your censure on poetry as the adversary of love, but I venture to repeat that old verse, ‘My heart is fixed, it cannot range, for I like my choice too well to change.’ Do you have regrets in your choice?”

Elizabeth laughed. “Mr. Darcy, you well know that you are the only man who, in your disposition and talents, your understanding and temper, could ever make me happy. My only regret is that I knew you for more than a year before I could recognise your perfection, and admit it to myself, not only unreasonably delaying my own happiness, but the education of the world as to the very picture of conjugal felicity. Is this assurance enough?”

Mr. Darcy put out the candle, saying, “A man can never have too much of example where the love and admiration of his wife is concerned.”

The following day, the entire party was to leave for Marlborough, the seat of the late Lord and his relict, Lady Brookstone; Elizabeth was initially not sorry for the change, as she felt that she had seen so little of the world, even the distance of thirty-five miles was enough to make her eager for the prospect of new scenery and new pleasures. The journey was accomplished through the expedient of post-horses and the generosity of the Duke: his servants were to bring the Duke’s carriage horses into Wiltshire, saving the Darcy’s horses the fatigue of pulling the large travelling chaise such a distance in one day by bringing them along as well.