Extra Scene for Chapter 31:
Darcy and Georgiana's Conversation Before His Visit to Lady Matlock

Darcy paced the length of the study, his steps brisk, his expression clouded. Georgiana watched him from her seat near the window, her embroidery momentarily forgotten. She had never seen her brother so agitated, so barely contained.

"William," she said softly, setting her work aside. "You cannot go to Aunt Matlock in such a state. You will only fuel her fire."

Darcy stopped mid-stride, turning to face her. "And what would you have me do, Georgiana? She insulted Jane—questioned her worth, her character. How can I remain silent?"

Georgiana rose and crossed the room, taking his hand in hers. "You must stand firm, yes, but also calm. Aunt Matlock thrives on conflict; she will use your anger against you. Show her that your choice is not up for debate."

Darcy sighed, his shoulders softening slightly. "You are right, as usual. But how can I make her see? She is so entrenched in her ways."

Georgiana's eyes brightened with quiet resolve. "Jane does not need Aunt Matlock's approval to be worthy of you. But if Aunt cannot see Jane's value, then she is blind to what truly matters. Speak to her as you would command respect in any other setting. Remind her that you are the master of your own fate."

Darcy pressed a kiss to her hand, gratitude softening his expression. "You've grown wise beyond your years, Georgie. Thank you. I shall return shortly. And, while I'm gone, promise me you will keep the Misses Bennet company. Jane will need your cheerfulness today."

Georgiana nodded, her smile warm. "I will. And William," she added, stopping him at the door, "Jane is remarkable. She deserves someone who will fight for her. You're doing the right thing."

Darcy's lips curved into a faint smile as he left the room, bolstered by his sister's unwavering faith.

Extra Scene for Chapter 31, at the end:
Jane and Elizabeth Discuss the Gossip Column

Outtake – Jane's and Darcy's conversation about his Rosings relations – sometime around Chapter 34

It was a mild afternoon at Pemberley, the sun casting a golden glow over the parkland as Jane and William strolled along a shaded path lined with ancient oaks. For a moment, Jane wondered how old they must be. A gentle breeze carried the scent of wildflowers, and the sound of birdsong filled the air. Darcy's two dogs, two lively foxhounds, were running around them.

Jane took off her bonnet, glancing at William's thoughtful expression. "You seem quiet, William. Have I said something to trouble you?" she asked softly, her arm lightly resting in his.

"Not at all," he assured her, his voice steady but contemplative. "I was merely reflecting on…family obligations. Or, rather, my aunt's peculiar determination to shape my future."

Jane tilted her head curiously. "Lady Matlock?"

Darcy shook his head. "Well, I could be speaking about her, but no. I have another aunt, an elder sister to my mother."

"You speak of Lady Catherine?"

He nodded, a rueful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Indeed."

"I have heard about her from Lizzy."

"Uh, of course. She has long harboured the notion that I should marry her daughter, Anne. A plan she has never hesitated to remind me of during every visit to Rosings."

Jane's brows lifted in surprise. "She is quite forthright, then."

"Forthright is an understatement," he replied, his tone dry. "She has a way of stating her expectations as though they were immutable laws of nature. For years, I attempted to reason with her, to make her understand that such an alliance was not in my heart. But eventually…" He shook his head. "I stopped arguing. There was little point."

Jane pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. "Are you afraid of her?"

Darcy snapped his head to her. "Afraid, I? No, I do not fear her…"

Under Jane's penetrating gaze, he crumbled. "Well, she is quite formidable. When I was a child, trust me, she could put the fear in anyone. But I am a man now."

"Of course you are." She smiled, raising her eyebrows. "And does she still raise the subject?"

"Without fail." He sighed, glancing at her. "It has become something of a ritual. She mentions Anne's supposed virtues and the benefits of uniting our estates, and I remain silent, knowing my protests will fall on deaf ears."

Jane hesitated, then gave him a teasing smile. "Perhaps she imagines that if she repeats herself often enough, you will suddenly see her wisdom."

He chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. "If that were the case, she would have succeeded long ago. The truth is, I visit Rosings out of duty – to assist her with the estate's affairs. As much as she believes herself a capable manager, the evidence often suggests otherwise. Her only luck is that I have a very good man taking care of the estate; that is when she lets him. And then there is her penchant for extravagance. For a woman who hardly leaves Rosings, she spends a lot." He shook his head. "Her spending habits have caused no small amount of difficulty."

Jane regarded him thoughtfully. "It sounds as though you shoulder quite a burden on her behalf."

"It is not without its frustrations," he admitted. "But I bear it, for I had promised my mother to care for them. Anne, if nothing else. She has suffered under her mother's relentless will, and though we have little in common, I feel a duty to ease her circumstances where I can. Although, actually, I am not sure if Anne would have been much different. Who knows."

Jane's heart softened at his words.

He turned to her, his expression suddenly lightening. "And yet I find myself here, in your company, feeling the weight of such concerns lift. You have a way of reminding me of what is truly important."

She blushed faintly but met his gaze with a quiet smile. "Perhaps because I listen without trying to dictate your future."

His lips curved into a wry smile. "Indeed. A rare and precious quality, Miss Bennet."

Her brow furrowed slightly as a thought struck her. "Does Lady Catherine truly believe she can influence you so entirely? You are not a man easily bent to another's will."

Darcy's smile faded, replaced by a pensive look. "My aunt is accustomed to having her way, and she thrives on the illusion of control. I confess that for a time, it was easier to let her believe her opinions carried weight in my life. But I have never been, nor will I ever be, a pawn in her schemes."

Jane hesitated, her natural empathy shining through. "And Anne? What would she think of all this?"

He sighed. "Anne… has resigned herself to her mother's ambitions. She is quiet, reserved, and far from robust in health. I suspect she knows as well as I that no true affection could exist between us, and yet she says nothing. Her silence has always been a barrier, though I cannot fault her for it. With such a mother, silence may be her only refuge."

Jane's heart ached at the picture he painted. "It must be difficult for her to have no voice in her own future."

"It is," he agreed softly. "But, she lacks the knowledge and skills to attract a gentleman on her way. Although she has an impressive fortune."

"It seems you have shown great patience with your aunt, far more than most would."

Darcy looked at her with something close to wonder. "It is not patience, I think, but necessity. Family is a duty, and I have always strived to meet it. But now…" He paused, his voice lowering. "Now, I find myself wondering if there is room for happiness alongside duty. Being with you, Jane, makes me believe there might be."

Her breath caught at his words, but she managed a small, trembling smile. "I would hope so, William. For what is life without a measure of joy?"

His answering smile was tender, filled with a quiet resolve. "Then I shall endeavour to find that balance – for us."

As they continued their walk, the path ahead seemed brighter, their shared understanding a source of quiet strength.

in Chapter 48

Mary and Lady Matlock's Interaction

Placement: After Mary reflects on avoiding Lady Matlock's scrutiny, she inadvertently encounters her.

Mary stepped into the sunroom, her book clasped to her chest, only to halt as she spotted Lady Matlock seated at the far end, a teacup poised elegantly in her hand. She froze, debating whether to retreat, but the countess had already seen her.

"Miss Bennet," Lady Matlock called, her voice warm but curious. "Do come in. I've been hoping for a moment to speak with you."

Mary hesitated, her pulse quickening, but she reminded herself that avoiding Lady Matlock would only draw more attention. She crossed the room and curtsied, her hands trembling slightly.

"Good afternoon, my lady."

Lady Matlock gestured to the seat opposite her. "Please, sit. I was just admiring the view. Pemberley is so perfectly situated, do you not think?"

"Yes, my lady. The grounds are beautiful," Mary replied, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach.

Lady Matlock tilted her head, studying Mary with an appraising gaze. "You enjoy reading, Miss Bennet?"

"Yes, my lady. It has always been my solace and my greatest teacher."

"And do you not find yourself drawn to the more… lively pursuits of young ladies?" Lady Matlock's tone was light, but the question carried weight.

Mary hesitated but met her gaze. "I have long believed one should be true to their nature, my lady, even if that nature is quieter than others."

Lady Matlock smiled faintly, her eyes softening. "An admirable philosophy. Tell me, Miss Bennet, do you enjoy Pemberley's hospitality?"

Mary nodded. "Very much so. Everyone has been exceedingly kind."

"I am glad to hear it." Lady Matlock's smile grew, and she took a sip of her tea. "You must not let shyness deter you, my dear. There is much in you that deserves to be seen."

Mary blinked, startled by the unexpected kindness in the countess's words. "Thank you, my lady. That is… most generous."

"Not at all." Lady Matlock's gaze lingered a moment longer before she turned back to the window. "Now, do not let me keep you from your book. Enjoy the sunshine, Miss Bennet."

Mary rose, curtsying again before leaving the room. Her heart was lighter, and her thoughts swirled with the countess's words.

In Chapter 47

Tuesday Morning: Conversations Over Coffee

in the picture: Morgan and Georgiana
this outtake made it into the extended version

Darcy found Morgan seated at the breakfast room table, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand and a faint smile on his lips. Nearby, Lady Suzanne perused a book, occasionally glancing toward the window as if anticipating the day's events. The room, quiet in the early morning, offered the perfect opportunity for conversation.

"Good morning, Morgan, Lady Suzanne," Darcy greeted as he took a seat opposite Morgan.

Lady Suzanne looked up with a polite smile. "Good morning, Mr Darcy. I trust Pemberley is already abuzz with activity?"

"As it always is," Darcy replied warmly, his gaze briefly resting on her before turning to Morgan. "And you, Morgan? Do you find the accommodations to your liking?"

"Pemberley is as impressive as its reputation suggests," Morgan said, leaning back in his chair. "I might even dare to say it feels welcoming, which is no small feat for an estate of this scale."

Lady Suzanne interjected with a teasing tone, "My brother is not easily impressed, Mr Darcy. You should take that as high praise."

Darcy inclined his head with a faint smile. "Then I am honoured. I hope the two of you will find the coming days enjoyable."

Morgan set down his cup and regarded Darcy with curiosity. "Tell me, Darcy, how do you manage it all? Pemberley, Georgiana, and now, I hear, the planning of a rather monumental event."

Darcy's expression softened. "Habit, I suppose, though it was not always so. When my father passed, I had to learn quickly. Georgiana was still a child, and the estate required immediate attention. There were moments when it felt overwhelming."

Morgan nodded, a flicker of understanding crossing his face. "I know that feeling all too well. When our parents died in the accident, Suzanne and I were left to make sense of a world turned upside down. I was only twenty; she was thirteen."

Lady Suzanne's expression grew wistful. "He made it bearable, though he won't admit it. Kenneth took on every responsibility without a word of complaint. I don't think I ever thanked you properly," she said, her voice soft.

Morgan reached out, patting her hand briefly. "You've repaid me in other ways, Lou. Your determination to find joy, even when it seemed impossible, kept me moving forward."

Darcy observed their exchange with quiet empathy. "Sisters have a way of grounding us. Georgiana was different—reserved and quiet in her grief. I felt compelled to shield her, perhaps too much at times."

Lady Suzanne smiled. "I imagine you and Kenneth have that in common. He still tries to shield me, though I am quite capable of looking after myself."

"Louisa," Morgan said with mock exasperation, "you've made it your life's work to remind me of that fact."

Darcy chuckled, finding the banter refreshing. "It seems we share a similar bond with our siblings. They remind us not to take ourselves too seriously."

Morgan leaned forward, his tone growing more thoughtful. "It's true. Losing our parents forced me to grow up far too quickly. But it also taught me to value trust and loyalty above all else. That's why I reached out to you, Darcy, when I needed a partner in my ventures."

Darcy looked at him, surprised. "Why me? Surely, you had other options, perhaps more experienced ones."

Morgan met his gaze directly. "Because experience is not everything. Character counts for more. I saw in you a man of principle, one who would prioritize integrity over ambition. And I was right."

Darcy inclined his head, the rare compliment warming him. "Thank you. That means more than I can express."

Lady Suzanne, sensing the sincerity between the two men, spoke up. "It seems you both carry a heavy burden, yet you've managed to find strength in it. Perhaps that is why you are so well-suited as partners."

Morgan raised his cup in a quiet toast. "To siblings, then. And to the burdens we carry for them."

Darcy mirrored the gesture, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "To siblings."

As the morning light filtered through the windows, Darcy felt a newfound kinship with Morgan and a quiet admiration for Lady Suzanne's strength and spirit. He hoped the days ahead would deepen their camaraderie and reveal new bonds of friendship.

Chapter 52

Elizabeth and Walton's Future Plans

Friday Evening, After Dinner

Elizabeth stood at the terrace railing, the soft hum of conversation from the house fading into the background. The cool night air made shiver. She was lost in thought when Walton's voice interrupted her reverie.

"Enjoying the peace and quiet, Elizabeth?"

She turned to see him approach, his hands clasped behind his back, his posture as relaxed as ever. "I am. It is a welcome reprieve from the bustle inside."

He nodded, stepping beside her. "House parties can be relentless. One can hardly find a moment to think."

She tilted her head, a faint smile playing on her lips. "And what thoughts require such quiet contemplation, Mr. Walton? Surely you are not regretting your decision already?"

His laugh was low and easy. "Regret? No, but I admit, the whirlwind of it all leaves little room for planning. A man likes to know where he stands, especially when his future is concerned."

Elizabeth's brow arched. "And where do you see yourself standing, sir?"

"With you," he said simply, his tone devoid of flourish or sentimentality. "I have been thinking about the estate. Some projects soon need to be done—better drainage for the fields and new housing for the tenants. There is much to do."

Elizabeth turned back to the view, her gaze thoughtful. "I hope you do not think me presumptuous, but I would like to be involved. My father always allowed me a say in such matters at Longbourn. Although it might have come from him because he himself does not bother to leave his book room. But, in any case, I find estate management far more engaging than the drudgery of embroidery."

"You really do not like embroidery?"

"I can spend some time with it if I must, but it is not something I really enjoy."

Walton smiled, pleased by her practicality. "I suspected as much. I had not imagined you content to sit idly by while decisions were made without you. In truth, I welcome your insight. The tenants' cottages are in need of repair, and you likely understand their concerns better than I."

Elizabeth's eyes lit up. "Then we are agreed. But you must promise not to dismiss my suggestions too quickly. I have found that gentlemen are often too hasty to judge a woman's ideas."

Walton raised a brow, his tone tinged with humor. "Are we gentlemen so predictable? Rest assured, Elizabeth, I have no intention of underestimating you. In fact, I would find it quite refreshing to have a partner who challenges me."

"Challenges you?" she repeated, feigning mock offence. "I shall take that as encouragement."

They stood in companionable silence for a moment, the stars above casting their faint light over the estate. Walton broke the quiet. "What about you, Elizabeth? What do you hope for?"

Her expression softened, though her tone remained measured. "I hope for a life where respect and understanding guide us. Where disagreements are met with reason, and joys are shared freely. I hope we can build something enduring—something that matters, not only to us but to those who depend on us."

He studied her, admiration flickering in his eyes. "I believe we are of the same mind."

Elizabeth gave a small, approving nod. "Good. Then you may yet prove yourself a worthy partner, Frederick."

"Only 'may'?" he teased, leaning slightly closer.

She smirked, her sharp wit shining through. "I have high standards, as you know."

He chuckled, turning back to the horizon. "Then I shall endeavour to meet them. But I warn you, Elizabeth, I intend to hold you to the same expectations."

"I would expect nothing less," she replied, her tone resolute.

The evening air grew cooler, and Walton offered his arm. "Shall we return to the others?"

Elizabeth slipped her hand through his arm, her steps steady beside his. "Very well. But do not think this conversation is finished. There is much more to discuss."

"Indeed," he said, his smile faint but genuine. "And plenty of time ahead to do so."

For after the bonus chapter

Honeymoon Bliss

The days at the secluded seaside estate passed in a whirl of sunlit mornings, playful afternoons, and intimate evenings. The coastal air was fresh, filled with the rhythmic murmur of the waves and the occasional call of distant seabirds. Jane found herself enchanted by the sea, a vast expanse of blue and green.

Darcy had been eager to introduce her to the water, teasing her about her hesitance. The first attempt at swimming had been more laughter than success as Jane clung to his strong arms, her modest bathing gown clinging to her curves. Darcy, ever patient, guided her movements, his deep voice soothing her nerves. When she finally managed a tentative stroke, she beamed at him, her joy infectious.

"You are a natural," he said, brushing a wet strand of hair from her face. "Though I must admit, I rather enjoy being your crutch."

Jane laughed, her cheeks flushing as she playfully splashed him. "You mean my anchor, perhaps."

Darcy grinned, catching her hand beneath the water. The moment stretched, the world narrowing to the two of them as the waves gently lapped around them. Unable to resist, he leaned in and captured her lips, his kiss both salty and sweet. Jane melted against him, the water buoying her as his hands traced slow, reverent paths along her back.

Later, they ventured farther along the coast, discovering a secluded cove framed by jagged rocks and soft sands. Darcy had packed a light picnic, and they dined on fresh fruit, delicate pastries, and sweet white wine that Jane declared her new favourite. Reclining on the soft blanket, Jane let herself relax completely, her head resting on Darcy's chest as they gazed at the endless horizon.

"I could stay here forever," she murmured.

"Then let us," Darcy replied, his hand idly stroking her arm. "I shall write to Walton and cancel all future plans."

Jane chuckled, tilting her head to look up at him. "He would never forgive you."

"True. Friendship or not, he is no doubt eager to make Elizabeth his."

That evening, the tide was low, and Darcy persuaded Jane to wade into the water under the cover of moonlight. The silver light danced across the waves, casting ethereal shadows that seemed to wrap them in their own world. Jane's initial shyness faded as Darcy coaxed her deeper, his warm hands steadying her as the water lapped at her waist.

"You trust me?" he asked, his voice low and intimate.

"Always," Jane replied, her breath hitching as his hands slid to her hips, pulling her closer.

The waves concealed their shared laughter and whispered promises as Darcy held her against him, his touch igniting a slow-burning fire that made Jane tremble in his arms. The water seemed to echo their movements, a gentle rhythm that matched the cadence of their hearts. When Darcy's lips found hers, it was as though the stars above had burst into a thousand tiny fireworks, illuminating the night with their passion.

The days were filled with exploration. Darcy surprised Jane with a spirited horseback ride along the cliffs, their horses kicking up soft sand as they galloped side by side. Jane's exhilarated laughter carried on the wind, and Darcy's heart swelled with pride at her courage and joy.

In quieter moments, they strolled through the nearby village, Darcy indulging Jane's curiosity about the quaint cottages and bustling market stalls. They purchased trinkets for Georgiana and the other Bennet sisters, Darcy teasing Jane that her penchant for ribbons would soon rival his sister's.

One afternoon, Darcy arranged for a small sailboat, guiding them gently across the clear, shallow waters. Jane marvelled at the vibrant marine life below, leaning over the side to catch a glimpse of colourful fish darting through the coral. Darcy, ever the protector, held her firmly, his arms wrapping securely around her waist as she pointed out her discoveries with childlike wonder.

As the days passed, their connection deepened. The evenings were their sanctuary, the world outside slipping away as they basked in the glow of their shared love. Darcy revelled in Jane's quiet confidence, her gentle humour, and her growing boldness in their private moments. She, in turn, discovered the man beneath the reserved exterior, a passionate and tender lover who made her feel cherished beyond measure.

In the glow of candlelight, they would talk for hours, their laughter mingling with the crackle of the fire. Darcy would often read to her, his rich voice turning even the driest passages into something mesmerising. Jane, nestled against him, would close her eyes and imagine a lifetime of such contentment.

But it was the nights in their bed-chamber, with the moonlight streaming through the curtains, that left the most indelible memories. Their love unfolded like the waves they had swum in, ebbing and flowing with unspoken understanding and endless devotion.

Outtake - for when you have finished with the book

Sometime in the future,
still in the first year of their marriage.

In the kitchen, Darcy had promised to have built for Jane

this one made it into the extended version

The kitchen Darcy built for Jane was nothing short of a masterpiece. Nestled in a private corner of Pemberley, it exuded warmth with its honey-coloured stone walls, polished wooden counters, and soft lighting from carefully placed sconces. The scent of freshly baked bread still lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of lavender from the herbs hanging to dry near the window.

Jane stood by the counter; her hands dusted with flour. Her cheeks flushed from the warmth of the oven and the laughter she had shared with Darcy moments before. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her with a gaze that sent shivers down her spine.

"You truly are a vision, Jane," he murmured, his voice low, almost husky.

She turned, a playful smile on her lips. "A vision? Covered in flour and wearing an apron?"

He straightened, taking a slow step toward her. "I assure you, I've never seen anything more alluring. Just like the first time."

Jane's eyes flashed, and she chuckled, but her laughter faltered when he closed the distance between them. His fingers gently brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, lingering against her temple. "You've bewitched this kitchen," he whispered. "It feels alive because of you."

Her breath caught as his thumb traced the curve of her cheek. "It's just a kitchen, William," she said softly, though her voice wavered under his intense gaze.

"It's not just a kitchen," he replied, his lips curving into a tender smile. "It's ours."

His words sent warmth coursing through her, and when he leaned closer, she tilted her head up to meet him. The kiss was slow and languorous, filled with the kind of passion that had only deepened since they first pledged themselves to one another. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer, and she melted into his embrace.

"William," she whispered against his lips, "we're in the kitchen…"

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against her. "I know." His voice was a mix of amusement and desire. "And I am terribly glad I built it."

Jane laughed softly, her hands sliding up to his shoulders. "It's supposed to be a place for baking, not…"

"Who says we cannot mix both?" he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Before she could respond, he reached behind her, swiping his finger through the bowl of whipped cream she had been working on.

"William Darcy!" she gasped, half in shock, half in laughter, as he dabbed a small dollop on her nose.

He grinned unapologetically. "It seemed fitting." Then, with a playful smirk, he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers before whispering, "And delicious."

Jane's laughter filled the room again, but it was quickly silenced by another kiss, deeper this time, as the kitchen became their haven – not just a place for creating meals, but for making memories, one stolen moment at a time.

The warmth of the kitchen seemed to grow as Darcy's hands slid to Jane's waist, his fingers brushing the fabric of her apron before deftly untying it and letting it fall to the floor. She gasped softly, but there was no hesitation in the way her hands found his chest. Her touch was firm yet reverent as if committing to memory every line and curve beneath his waistcoat.

"You have flour on your cheek," he murmured, his lips brushing the faint streak near her temple. The simple gesture sent a shiver down her spine. "And here…" His thumb ghosted over her collarbone, where a fine dusting of flour clung to her skin.

"Perhaps you'll have to clean me up, Mr Darcy," Jane teased, her voice soft but playful, her confidence growing with the heat of his gaze.

Darcy's lips quirked into a knowing smile. "With pleasure."

He leaned in again, this time kissing the corner of her lips before tracing a slow path to her jawline. His hands explored her back, pulling her flush against him as her own fingers slipped to the nape of his neck, tangling in his dark curls. Jane tilted her head back, granting him access as his lips brushed against the hollow of her throat, his breath warm and tantalising.

The cool marble counter pressed against Jane's back as Darcy effortlessly lifted her onto it, her skirts rustling in the quiet kitchen. She looked up at him, her chest rising and falling with anticipation, her eyes bright with both trust and longing. His hands rested on either side of her, framing her and grounding her, even as the intensity of his gaze made her feel as though she might float away.

"This," Darcy said softly, his voice low and rich, "is my favourite version of you. Here, in the place we built together. Here, where you are completely yourself."

Jane's breath caught at his words, and she reached up, her fingers brushing his jaw, tracing the line of his cheekbone. "And this," she replied, her voice trembling with emotion, "is my favourite version of you."

He kissed her then, slow and deliberate, as though savouring every moment. One of his hands slid to cradle her face, his thumb stroking her cheek, while the other settled at her waist, anchoring her to him. Jane's hands explored the broad expanse of his shoulders, her touch both tentative and bold, as though she wanted to discover every inch of him but also feared she might break the spell.

Her laughter bubbled up unexpectedly as his hand found a stray spoon beside her on the counter and flicked a bit of cream onto her lips.

"Delicious," Darcy murmured, leaning in to kiss it away, his lips lingering longer than necessary. "But you're sweeter."

Jane's fingers tightened on his waistcoat, pulling him closer. Their breaths mingled as the kiss deepened, becoming less restrained, more fervent. The space between them dissolved entirely as the counter supported her weight, and Darcy's hands explored the curve of her hips, the small of her back, grounding her even as her heart raced.

The kitchen, so carefully designed for function, now felt like the most intimate corner of the universe. The world outside faded into insignificance as their connection, their love, and their desire for one another took centre stage. Darcy's forehead rested against hers, his voice a reverent whisper in the charged stillness.

"Jane," he said simply, her name carrying the weight of all he felt, all he could not put into words.

She cupped his face, her thumbs brushing the faint stubble on his jaw. "Yes, William?" she whispered back, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotion coursing through her.

"I love you," he said, his voice rough with feeling. "More than I could ever show you, but I will spend my life trying."

"And I will spend mine loving you," she replied, her lips brushing his in a kiss that promised everything.

The kitchen stood witness to their intimacy, laughter, sweet words to each other, and lovemaking – a haven where time seemed to pause, where they could be entirely themselves, wrapped in the warmth of each other's embrace.