“You know Susie?”
“Yes, she is a maid at Longbourn. I met her when she was housekeeper at…” her voice trailed off.
“At your aunt and uncle’s house,” Darcy finished softly for her.
“Yes.”
He came farther into the room, though he kept a proper distance. The library, he noticed, suited her. Not because she affected learning, as some young ladies did, but because she seemed entirely at ease among books, firelight, and quiet, as though she had never required permission to belong in such aroom. The thought came with an odd certainty: if Netherfield had been hers, she would have known what every shelf contained.
He dismissed it as fancy. Or tried to.
“Were you seeking a particular volume?” he asked, attempting to change the subject to one less sorrowful.
“Peace, chiefly. But as that is rarely cataloged, I settled for a history of Hertfordshire.”
“A useful substitute?”
“That depends upon whether one desires truth or confidence. Thus far the author offers more of the latter.”
Darcy glanced at the spine. “You know the county well enough to judge him?”
“Well enough to quarrel with him, which is often more satisfying.”
“Then I pity the author.”
“Do not. He is safely dead, and therefore beyond correction.”
“An enviable position for an historian.”
“Only for a careless one.”
Darcy could not help smiling. “You have severe standards, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Only for those who put things in print. The rest of us may be wrong in private with far less consequence.”
“I shall endeavor to keep my errors unpublished.”
“That would be very prudent.”
The exchange settled something between them. Not entirely. There remained the memory of his offense, the uncertainty of their present acquaintance, and the strange knowledge they shared without speaking it aloud. Yet the sharp edges had softened. She did not look as though she wished him gone. That alone felt like undeserved mercy.
Darcy gestured toward the shelves. “I came in search of occupation, though I had not yet decided whether I required instruction or distraction.”
“Is there a difference?”
“Generally. Instruction improves a man. Distraction merely prevents him from making himself disagreeable to others.”
“Then for the sake of the household, perhaps you had better choose distraction.”
He inclined his head. “A charitable suggestion.”
“I am known for my charity.”
“Are you?”
“To those who deserve it.”
He looked at her, and she met his gaze with a spark of challenge that warmed him more than the fire. “Then I must hope to earn it.”
