“Yes – and Papa seemed very well pleased with the arrangement.”
Elizabeth could not help smiling faintly.
In the book room, Mr. Bennet had received his guest with more attention than he was accustomed to bestow.
“I hope, Mr. Darcy,” he said, as he closed the door, “that you do not regret your walk in our garden, however brief it may have proved.”
“Not in the least, sir.”
Mr. Bennet regarded him for a moment over the edge of his spectacles. “Rain, I have observed, often brings matters to a conclusion which might otherwise have lingered.”
Darcy met his gaze calmly. “That has been my experience as well.”
“Indeed?” said Mr. Bennet. “Then I may hope that your morning has not been entirely unproductive.”
“I believe it has been… most satisfactory.”
Mr. Bennet allowed himself the smallest inclination of the head. “I am glad to hear it.”
He took up a book, though he did not immediately open it. “You must not suppose, sir, that I intend to subject you to interrogation. I have already given my consent where it was required.”
Darcy bowed slightly. “I am sensible of your kindness.”
“Kindness has very little to do with it,” returned Mr. Bennet dryly. “But I have a particular regard for my daughter’s happiness, and I think it best not to stand in the way of it – provided she is of the same opinion.”
“I would not wish her to be otherwise.”
“Very proper,” said Mr. Bennet, opening his book at last. “We shall then leave the matter in her hands. Why do you not choose a book?”
They occupied themselves in such a way. At one point, Mr. Bennet looked up from his book. “She is not indifferent.”
Darcy looked up then, unable entirely to disguise his attention.
“I am obliged to you for your candour, sir.”
“Do not thank me too soon,” said Mr. Bennet. “My daughter has a mind of her own.”
“I should expect nothing less,” Darcy replied, with a faint, thoughtful seriousness. “And I would not value her the less for it.”
This said, he returned to his book – though with little success in attending to it.
***
Meanwhile, Jane had not allowed Elizabeth many moments of composure. “Lizzy,” she said gently, “you must come with me.”
Elizabeth, who had scarcely seated herself, looked at her in mild surprise. “Must I?”
“Yes,” said Jane, with a smile that was both affectionate and resolute. “I cannot be satisfied without speaking to you.”
Elizabeth hesitated only a moment before rising. “Very well.”
Jane led her from the room into a smaller parlour, closing the door behind them. For a moment, she said nothing, but only looked at her sister with an expression of quiet expectation.
Elizabeth felt herself colour slightly beneath that gaze. “Well, Jane,” she said at last, attempting lightness, “you appear to have something to ask me.”
“I have a great many things to ask you,” Jane replied, still smiling. “But I will begin with only one.”
Elizabeth waited.
