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"There is a letter," he said. "I have not written it. Yet I seem to remember you reading it."

Elizabeth had the same impossible memory. She had not told him that part.

He took his hand from the chair, then put it back. She wished they had chosen a less public place to discover that they might both be frightened.

They stood there in the middle of the assembly, staring at each other while the world continued around them, oblivious.

"So," Darcy said eventually. "What happens now?"

Elizabeth turned the fan in her hands. She had reached the end of what she could tell him with any confidence. "I have been struggling with this since morning, and I still cannot explain it."

She went on before he could answer. "Some of what we say is forced. Not all. I could ask Jane about it, but I could not tell Mama I would remain at home. We have just tried to leave each other and failed. I do not yet know what makes the difference."

"Then we ought to establish what we can repeat."

"Tomorrow morning, perhaps. On Oakham Mount. We might attempt the next absurd thing together, without an entire assembly watching."

"Together," Darcy repeated, testing the word.

"Yes. Two aware minds are better than one."

"I am fond of walking," he said slowly.

"Then at least we have proposed something agreeable."

"I shall come," he said. "But I mean to try remaining at Netherfield first. You must not take a delay for a discourtesy."

"Bring any conclusions you reach on the way."

Darcy's jaw clenched again, then he seemed to notice and forced it to relax. "Tomorrow, then."

"Tomorrow."

He bowed and this time reached Bingley without being turned back. Elizabeth watched until he was safely beside his friend. She had not known how much she needed to see an ordinary walk completed.

"Lizzy!" Mrs. Bennet's voice cut through her thoughts. "There you are! Come, Jane is sitting down, and I wish to discuss Mr. Bingley's attentions!"

Elizabeth put away her fan. Her mother, at least, had found the evening she expected.

"Coming, Mamma."

"What were you doing speaking to that proud man? He insulted you! I heard it from Mrs. Philips!"

"He apologized, Mamma. It would have been uncivil not to accept."

"Apology! Well!" Mrs. Bennet sniffed. "I suppose that is something. Though I cannot imagine what possessed him to speak so rudely in the first place. Men of large fortunes ought to know better! Though I suppose with ten thousand a year, one can get away with anything!"

Elizabeth chose not to contest his income. She was too tired to begin another inquiry.

She allowed herself to be drawn into her mother's familiar complaints, but her mind was on Darcy. Tomorrow she might have an ally.

The evening ended as it was supposed to, with Mrs. Bennet crowing about Jane's success and Mr. Bennet making dry observations about human folly. Elizabeth played her role, said her lines (though she was fairly certain some of them weren't quite right), and climbed into the carriage for the ride home.

The familiar dark of the carriage began to deepen in a way she recognized without understanding: the close of a chapter. Jane's shoulder rested against hers. Elizabeth held on to that ordinary pressure as the scene faded.

Tomorrow Mr. Darcy meant to try staying at home. She hoped, with an affection for failure quite new to her, that he would not succeed.

CHAPTER 4