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“I will not have him sitting beside me while the rest is discussed,” Charlotte said. “But I want him to hear my refusal before people who will remember it. Alone, he may turn it into another objection he means to overcome.”

She asked the solicitor to stop the discussion if Richard tried to make her answer for the death. Sir William would leave with her if she wished to go. Only after he had agreed did she let the invitation stand.

The solicitor wrote the request accordingly. No one assured them that Lady Catherine would consent to their proposed company. The invitation asked for a meeting; it did not confer the power to summon her. Elizabeth found she could tolerate the uncertainty now that it was admitted.

On Tuesday her ladyship accepted, with complaints about the inconvenience and the number of people thought necessary for a family conversation. The specified company was nevertheless acknowledged, and a time given. Elizabeth read the answer, then went upstairs, where Jane was attempting to repair the bonnet their mother had sent with such particular instructions.

“It has been improved,” Jane said. “Unfortunately, it now appears to belong to someone much younger.”

Elizabeth took the ribbon from her. They spent half an hour undoing the improvement, arguing gently about what their mother would call tasteful. At last Elizabeth said she wished to see Darcy before Thursday. Jane's fingers paused, then resumed their work.

“Shall I tell our aunt?”

“I shall tell her myself. There is nothing I want hidden about going there.” The more difficult truth was that she wanted to go at all. She wished to hear the man who had signed that account answer for it to her face, and to learn whether wanting him could survive the hearing. She wrote that afternoon, asking whether Darcy would receive her privately on Wednesday, and arranged a hired carriage for the visit and her return.

* * *

Darcy was waiting in the hall when she arrived. He looked at the carriage behind her, then at the small reticule in her hand. There was no trunk. Elizabeth had never before been so aware of what an absence of luggage might tell a husband.

“Thank you for receiving me,” she said.

“You are welcome here.” He stopped before adding anything to it, and she was grateful for the restraint. His reply to her request had been equally brief: Wednesday would suit, at whatever hour she preferred. He led her into the small sitting-room adjoining the library, where no table had been laid for a meal she had not agreed to share.

She sat near the window. Darcy took the chair opposite rather than the place beside her. The distance was courteous and inconvenient. She could see how tired he was, and wished she had not noticed before speaking of the account.

“I read what you gave the solicitor.”

He inclined his head. “Was it accurate?”

“Yes. I wanted to ask why you wrote it.”

Darcy looked at his hands. “Richard wished to use the circumstances to make Mrs. Collins return. I recognised the proposal.”

“And could no longer approve it when it was made about someone else?”

Darcy drew his hand back from the arm of his chair and pressed his lips together before answering. She had hurt him, and was ashamed of the satisfaction it gave her. Yet it was a question he ought to meet, and she would not apologise for having asked it.

“I had approved it when it served me,” he said. “That was what I recognised.”

Elizabeth turned towards the window. Outside, a boy carrying a parcel was trying to avoid a puddle without stepping beneath the wheels of a passing cart. She watched him reach the pavement, grateful for a problem whose solution could be seen. Her husband had said the right thing. She did not know how many right things would be required before she ceased waiting for the qualification.

She turned back to him and asked about the practical part: what his servants had actually been told, and what would happen if she remained away. Darcy left his chair to fetch the memorandum from the desk. He set it where she could examine it without reaching across him, then returned to his chair.

“The butler and housekeeper have these instructions in writing. They apply if you return, and if you only visit. No one is to report your movements to me.”

Elizabeth read the short directions, recognising a clarity she had often wished to hear applied to her requests. The date was Saturday. She put the memorandum down and waited for the answer concerning her absence.

“Your provision remains what it was. I shall not contest it, or make difficulties about your possessions.” He looked at her then. “I cannot tell you that I am indifferent to the choice. I shall not make your ability to choose depend upon my being pleased with it.”

She had expected to argue. Without the argument she was left with him, sitting across the room, formal and unhappy and more familiar to her than anyone ought to have become in so short a marriage. She wanted to tell him about Jane's bonnet. The impulse brought tears close enough that she looked down at her gloves.

“Your aunt has accepted Thursday.”

“I have the notice from Gardiner. I shall attend.”

“Charlotte speaks for herself. If you disagree with me, you may say so. You may not answer in my place.”

Darcy accepted that too. Elizabeth discovered that she was angry with him for making it possible to like him this afternoon. It would be a poor use of her new freedom to require him to remain objectionable merely to simplify it.