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"You see? I am among guardians wherever I turn."

"I believe there is a difference between keeping a path clear and confining a young lady to the house."

"A most comforting distinction. Would you care to walk?"

He offered his arm. They proceeded beneath the trees, speaking at first of Georgiana's expected visit and then of Elizabeth's letters from Jane. There were difficulties at Meryton, she explained: Mrs. Bennet had undertaken to improve the furnishings of the rented house, though the landlord possessed very different opinions about improvements; Kitty wanted a new cloak; Mary had resolved to read one substantial book every fortnight; and Lydia believed her sisters conspired to make her life tedious.

"I fear my cousin considers every limit a personal injustice," Elizabeth said.

"It may be the privilege of youth."

"She will be fifteen before long. I should hope reason might make an appearance by then."

"Reason comes to different people by different roads."

"Has it arrived by yours?"

"Not invariably," Darcy said.

She looked up at him. "That is a most unexpected confession."

"Then I must make another. I have been thinking of something for several weeks and have not found a sensible way to speak of it."

Elizabeth's heart beat unexpectedly hard. "That sounds unlike you, Mr. Darcy."

"It is unlike me. I have been uncertain whether I ought to trouble you with my thoughts."

A pair of gardeners appeared at the turn of the walk, carrying a ladder between them. Darcy moved aside, and the conversation ceased while the men passed. Elizabeth watched the ladder disappear beyond the hedge and wondered whether she would ever again regard garden implements with tolerance.

When they resumed walking, Darcy did not return immediately to his confession. He asked instead about a book they had discussed, and Elizabeth answered with such care that she scarcely knew what she said. She could not be certain what he had intended; perhaps his uncertainty concerned Georgiana or an affair of the estate. She would not place more meaning upon an unfinished sentence than it could bear.

Yet when he helped her over a narrow place in the path, his hand remained beneath hers for one additional moment. She felt the deliberate gentleness of it and looked at him. His expression was grave, but not cold. She understood that something had changed between them, and she was less frightened by the change than by how ardently she hoped it would continue.

That evening Richard found Darcy standing beside the drawing-room window.

"You have the look of a gentleman who has discovered an unsatisfactory answer," Richard remarked.

"On the contrary. I believe I have discovered the right one."

Richard followed his glance toward Elizabeth, who was laughing with Saye over a letter from his steward.

"Then why do you look as though you are awaiting a sentence?"

"Because the answer is not mine alone to give."

For once Richard did not laugh. He clapped a hand upon Darcy's shoulder and said, "Then let her speak for herself. You will find her capable of it."

Darcy smiled. "I have never doubted that."

CHAPTER 15

A Proposal Without a Fortune

Elizabeth's twentieth birthday began with rain and an alarming noise outside her bedchamber door.

She opened it to discover Richard attempting to balance a stack of wrapped parcels upon one arm while Saye stood beside him with an expression of patient resignation. Richard's other hand held a small vase of flowers that appeared to have been arranged during an earthquake.

"You were not meant to appear until breakfast," Richard told her.