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As they returned across the lawn, Elizabeth looked up at her window. Her books were there now, and her familiar shawl. Her clothes hung in the wardrobe, chosen for a winter among these rooms and paths. Mrs. Reynolds asked what she required, Sally knew where she liked things put, and the master of the house had written to her father to ensure she lacked nothing.

For a moment it was dangerously easy to imagine that she belonged here.

Then she remembered that she had been invited as Jane’s sister, and that Mr. Darcy’s generosity did not entitle her to suppose anything more.

She would thank him for the clothes. She would also explain, while she could do so plainly, what she wished him to ask before offering anything else.

Chapter Twenty-seven

DARCY HAD RETURNED a book to the wrong shelf when Elizabeth came into the library.

She looked at the shelf, then at the book in his hand.

“Have I interrupted a new arrangement?”

He followed her glance. The second volume stood beside a work with which it had nothing in common beyond a brown binding.

“No.”

“I am relieved. I should never have discovered the principle.”

He moved the misplaced volume to its proper shelf. “I was thinking of something else.”

“Then perhaps I ought to come back.”

“There is no need.”

He had been thinking of her. He had seen her return from her walk, wearing the pelisse he had hoped would make such walks comfortable, and had remained at the window longer than the observation required. There was no useful means of explaining that to her.

Elizabeth carried a folded letter. He wondered whether her father had written again, or whether there was news of a visit.

“May I thank you properly?” she asked.

“For the clothes?”

“Yes. They arrived this morning, and I have been very well employed in admiring them.”

“Mrs. Mercer has done as you wished?”

“In every respect. The pelisse is warm, the gowns fit, and Sally thinks I ought to change them several times a day so that none shall be neglected.”

“I hope you will not find that necessary.”

“It would leave very little time for anything else.”

Darcy set the remaining volume upon the shelf and drew a chair forward for her. Elizabeth sat, holding the letter upon her lap, and he took the chair opposite. The library door remained open. From the passage came the distant sound of Charles speaking to a servant, followed by his steps toward the stairs.

“I was very glad to be of use,” Darcy said.

Elizabeth looked down at the folded paper.

“There is something else.”

“Something has been omitted?”

“No. Quite the contrary. I have all that I need.”

He waited.