Page 51

"Begin with the weather," Charlotte suggested. "It has earned the distinction."

Jane gave a small, unwilling smile. Her eyes went to Bingley.

"And the things I do like?" she asked. "How am I to trust those?"

Bingley set his cup down. "I asked them the same question. They had no answer that would satisfy me."

"Then please do not invent one," Jane said.

"I shall not." He moved his chair nearer, then stopped. "May I?"

She nodded. He sat without taking her hand, leaving it where she could offer it herself. She did so after a moment. Elizabeth watched her sister's fingers settle around his, and found she had no wish to record the interval.

Darcy closed the notebook. "Questioning a feeling gives me hope. It is not proof. Even this conversation might have been written for us."

Jane watched Bingley's hand beneath hers. "Then I shall begin with what I wish to do now."

"You may change your mind," he said.

"So may you."

He nodded, and neither moved away. Jane drank a little tea. The room ceased to feel to Elizabeth like an audience waiting for her sister to complete a revelation.

Mr. Collins chose this moment to emerge from his confusion. "Miss Bennet! What are you doing in Kent? This is most irregular! Unchaperoned! Traveling alone! Lady Catherine will⁠—"

"Mr. Collins," Jane said with uncharacteristic sharpness. "I have had a frightening journey and asked for a little quiet. I cannot attend to your patroness yet."

Everyone stared at Jane.

"Did she just..." Bingley started.

"Snap at someone?" Elizabeth finished. "Yes. Jane! You never snap at people!"

"I asked for a moment, Lizzy. I have yet to receive it." Jane glanced at Mr. Collins. "Forgive my sharpness, sir. But Lady Catherine must wait until I have finished my tea."

Charlotte drew her husband toward the window to ask about the carriage horses. Jane set down her cup and looked at Darcy's notebook.

"May I look? I should like to see what you have actually observed."

He opened the book and turned it toward her. "Of course."

"These entries overlap," Jane said, turning the page. "That one records a prediction, and that one a clap of thunder. We must distinguish what happened from what we expected."

Darcy considered the two entries she indicated. "You are right. I have credited the storm with arriving before it troubled to do so."

Jane asked for the pencil. He gave it to her, and she began a separate column for things they had only predicted.

"I should like to know what we can try," she said. "Something small enough that being wrong will not hurt anybody."

Elizabeth watched her sister working. The care was familiar; the willingness to dispute Darcy's conclusions was new. She preferred that to another cheerful assurance that everything would be well.

Jane looked over the remaining notes. "It has brought us all into the same room and made it impossible to leave. I suppose it means us to do something now. Something we shall dislike, judging by these pages."

"I fear so," Darcy said. "If the intervals continue as they have, the proposal will be within forty-eight hours."

"Can we prevent it?"

"Haven't figured out how yet."