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“An excellent preparation for owning one.”

“Would you advise me against the house if its owner does not wish to sell it?”

“I should advise you to finish the first transaction before beginning another.”

Charles laughed and went to find Jane.

By four o’clock the windows rattled in their frames. The rain ran so heavily from the eaves that Darcy could scarcely distinguish individual drops. He joined the ladies in the drawing room, where Caroline had undertaken to mend the binding of a torn music book. Elizabeth was reading to Jane. She stopped when he entered, leaving a gentleman in the book upon the point of explaining why a letter had not reached its proper recipient.

“Pray continue,” Darcy said. “I should like to know whether he has a tolerable excuse.”

“He has had six pages in which to prepare it,” Elizabeth replied.

“Then I fear we must expect a long one.”

Caroline looked up from the strip of cloth she was cutting. “At least you may hear it without sitting beside the window, Mr. Darcy. There is a draught in that corner.”

He took the chair she indicated. Elizabeth resumed reading, and he found it a considerable pleasure to hear the voice which had questioned him so sharply employed upon somebody else’s deficiencies.

Sir lay across the hearthrug. At every stronger gust he lifted his head, considered whether anything required his attention, and settled again. When Jane laughed at a particularly unfortunate sentence, he rose and came to rest his chin upon her knee.

“I have nothing for you,” she told him.

“He does not require food upon every occasion,” Darcy said.

Elizabeth lowered the book. “Only the occasions upon which it is available.”

Sir crossed to her chair as though wishing to correct the injury done to his character. She rubbed his ears and read the next paragraph with his head resting against her arm.

Darcy looked at the two of them for longer than the story required.

Near dusk Reynolds came to the door and asked to speak with him. He excused himself and joined her in the passage.

“A board has lifted on Mrs. Bell’s washhouse, sir. The rain has come in upon the things left there to dry. Hammond’s man has covered it for tonight, but two blankets and most of the boy’s clothes are soaked.”

“The cottage itself?”

“Dry, sir. Mrs. Bell particularly said the chimney has given no further trouble.”

Darcy was relieved by the distinction. “Send dry things from here. Can they be taken this evening?”

“I have clothing for the boy, and one blanket. The man who brought the message can carry them back under his coat. I should like to send the heavier blankets in the morning, when they need not arrive as wet as the ones they replace.”

“Certainly. Anything else she needs.”

Reynolds thanked him and withdrew. When he returned to the drawing room, Elizabeth glanced toward the door.

“Is something wrong?”

He told her about the washhouse. She asked whether Mrs. Bell and Sam had enough for the night. Upon his assurance that Reynolds was sending what they needed, she returned to the book without the troubled expression he remembered from their first dispute over the cottage.

The storm continued through dinner and much of the night.

Darcy woke more than once to branches striking one another beyond the windows. Near dawn the wind dropped. He rose before the household had assembled for breakfast, dressed, and went to meet Hammond in the estate office.

The steward had two reports waiting. A young tree had fallen across the kitchen garden wall without damaging the glass. Farther down the grounds, branches caught beneath the old footbridge had forced the stream against its nearer bank.

“The timber is still there,” Hammond said. “Whether it is safe to walk upon is another question. Foster has gone to look.”