“Considerably.”
“He likes us,” Alice announced from behind her sketchbook. “I have been telling him stories. He is a very good listener. He does not interrupt.”
“Unlike certain members of the gentry,” Miss Elizabeth murmured, but she was nearly smiling, and I looked away before she could see that I had noticed.
Mrs. Gardiner had come down the garden path, wiping her hands on a cloth, and stood beside her eldest daughter, watching the tortoise settle himself onto his stone with the air of a monarch reclaiming a favorite throne.
“Mr. Darcy,” she said, “I believe you have just made an old gentleman very happy.”
“I should have brought it on Wednesday. I was not thinking clearly.”
“You were thinking of a great many things on Wednesday, I suspect.” She said this with a lightness that might have been mere observation or something rather more perceptive. “Now, you must come inside for tea. I insist. Elizabeth, will you bring the children when they are ready? Jane should be down shortly.”
“Of course, Aunt.”
I followed Mrs. Gardiner inside, which involved walking past Miss Elizabeth, who was standing beside the garden path with her arms folded and her expression composed, signaling civility because her aunt required it, not because she felt any hospitality on her own account.
“Miss Elizabeth,” I said as I passed.
“Mr. Darcy.”
“The fortification is impressive.”
“Samuel is six. He takes his defenses seriously.”
“I was referring to yours.”
She blinked. I walked on before she could respond, which was, I confess, satisfying in a way that a better man would not have enjoyed.
Jane stood at the window, arranging flowers in a vase. She appeared to be deep in thought, and not all of it pleasant. She turned, however, when she saw me. “Mr. Darcy. How kind of you to come again.”
“Miss Bennet. I hope you are well.”
“Very well, thank you. We have all been spoiling Bertram quite shamelessly, I am afraid. The children speak of nothing but Sir Bertram. Rose has declared him her particular friend, which is an honor she does not bestow lightly.”
“I am glad he is welcome here.”
“He is very welcome.” She set a stem in the vase, and her brow wrinkled before she spoke again. “Mr. Darcy, I hope you will not think it forward of me, but I thank you for what you have done for the children. The winter has been long, and Bertram has given them something to care for. It is a greater gift than you may realize.”
“Well, I…” I faltered, unsure if this was my opening to speak about Charles. Mrs. Gardiner chose that moment to hand me a cup of tea, for which I thanked her, and the moment passed. She then turned to Elizabeth, who had positioned herself at the farthest end of the drawing room.
“Elizabeth?”
“Strong, Aunt. And hot.” She accepted her cup without looking at me and took a deliberate sip before settling back in her chair. “Mr. Darcy, I hope you will not think us ungrateful, and we appreciate your continued care for Sir Bertram. I do believe you have thought of everything.”
“I am glad he has found a good home.”
She smiled over the rim of her cup. “We are quite capable of caring for a tortoise now, Mr. Darcy. You may rest assured that your father’s companion is in excellent hands, and you need not put yourself to any further trouble on our account.”
“I do not consider it trouble, Miss Elizabeth.”
“You are too good. But I am sure a gentleman of your position has obligations far more pressing than the habits of a tortoise in Cheapside. We would not wish to monopolize your time. Please accept our appreciation for both the gift and the satisfaction of knowing that Bertram is settled and happy and that your duty toward him has been discharged admirably.”
Discharged. She was treating the basking stone as a final delivery and considered our acquaintance complete. I was to collect my coat and my dignity and return to Mayfair with the understanding that no further calls would be necessary or, by implication, welcome.
Mrs. Gardiner watched this exchange with a raised eyebrow, glanced at Jane and returned to me, no doubt wondering whether to intervene.
“Miss Elizabeth,” I said, “I hope I have not given you the impression that my interest in Bertram’s welfare is merely a matter of duty.”
