Page 17 of The Crown’s Gift

"You mean he makes jokes."

"Not only jokes. He listens."

The observation was so precise that Elizabeth forgot to defend her father from it.

"He did not always," she said.

Darcy waited.

"The King's accident changed him. We gained Netherfield in the public account. In ours, we gained Papa."

She had not intended to say so much. The hallway seemed suddenly private despite its open doors.

Darcy's expression lost its reserve. "That is a considerable gift."

"The greater one."

Their eyes met. For once neither reached for argument.

Jane improved enough to sit up that afternoon. Bingley read aloud to her from a newspaper and omitted every paragraph concerned with Parliament. Elizabeth occupied a chair near the window, mending a cuff badly. She had never acquired Jane's patience with a needle.

Darcy entered carrying a book.

"Bingley, your steward wishes to speak with you about the west boundary."

Bingley looked reluctant to abandon his post.

Jane smiled. "I shall not relapse in ten minutes."

"Fifteen at most," Elizabeth said. "After that I can promise nothing."

When Bingley departed, Darcy placed the book on the table beside Jane. "Your father mentioned you enjoy Cowper."

"Thank you."

He did not leave. Elizabeth became conscious of the poor seam beneath her fingers.

"Do you mend often, Miss Elizabeth?"

"Only when I wish to humble the garment."

Jane laughed and then coughed. Darcy poured water before Elizabeth could rise. He handed the glass to Jane without fuss and resumed his place.

"Your sister's devotion is evident," he said.

"Lizzy never does anything by halves," Jane answered.

"Jane means that I am exhausting."

"I mean that you walked through mud because I sneezed twice."

"Three times. I have standards."

Darcy's mouth curved. It transformed him. The severe lines around his eyes eased, and Elizabeth saw the handsome man beneath the guarded one so suddenly that her needle entered her finger.

She inhaled.

Darcy's smile vanished. "You are hurt."