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“You think me a coward.”

“I think you frightened for somebody you love. I know how readily I might become unreasonable for Jane. I hope somebody would tell me.”

Elizabeth stepped away from the gate. Sally still waited at the turning, her face directed toward the house.

“I have said more than you invited me to say. You need not answer me now.”

He almost asked her to remain. There was no answer ready, but he did not wish the conversation to end in a quarrel which she might regret having begun.

“Miss Bennet.”

She turned.

“I will consider it.”

Elizabeth’s expression softened. “Then I am glad I asked.”

She joined Sally and took the path home. Darcy remained beside the gate until both women had passed from sight. At last he bent and removed the stone from beneath his boot.

Thomas would move the shelf. In another month, perhaps, he would move something else. Anna would grow whether Darcy had determined where she belonged or not.

He had promised Martha provision for the child. He had promised himself that nothing should injure her. Neither promise told him what he would say when Anna first asked why he always went away.

Chapter Twenty-five

CHARLES APPROACHED VICTORY at billiards that evening with very little discretion.

“You have been looking at the same ball for a full minute,” he said. “If you mean to frighten it into moving, I ought to warn you that I have tried.”

Darcy bent over the table. The stroke went wide.

“You spoke while I was taking my aim.”

“I spoke while you were deciding whether to begin.”

“There is a distinction?”

“A considerable one, when I have promised Jane not to remain here all night.”

Darcy stood aside and watched Charles finish the game. He had agreed to play because the occupation required enough attention to prevent him from returning continually to the afternoon. It had proved less successful than he hoped. He could still see Elizabeth beside the gate, asking what difference a wife could make if he meant never to have one.

He had not intended to announce that determination to her. It was a private conclusion, reached at a time when imagining any future had seemed an impertinence. He had spoken as though it were a promise he was bound to keep.

“Another?” Charles asked.

“Your wife is expecting you.”

“She is reading. I am in greater danger of interrupting than of being missed. Shall I ask whether she will release me?”

“You might discover that she has noticed the interval.”

Charles laughed and put away his cue. “Come with me, then. She will forgive us both more readily if I do not arrive alone.”

Darcy went with him. Jane sat near the drawing-room fire with her book closed upon the table beside her. Caroline was sorting music at the instrument. Elizabeth occupied a low chair beside her sister, winding thread from a skein Jane held between her hands.

“I won,” Charles told his wife.

“I am very glad,” Jane replied.