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“Tomorrow morning,” Reynolds proposed. “I can arrange not to be called away for an hour.”

Darcy agreed. The possibility that someone might understand those nights relieved him, even while the prospect of describing the first filled him with embarrassment.

Reynolds took up the box. “I shall put these away and see whether Cook has something Miss Bennet might be persuaded to eat. She has had very little.”

“I shall eat anything which does not require being thanked for eating it,” Elizabeth said.

The housekeeper left, closing the door only halfway behind her.

Darcy looked at the marks across Elizabeth’s palm. She had saved his life and now sat beside him trying to behave as though the morning had been no more remarkable than an interrupted walk.

“May I see?” he asked, holding out his uninjured hand.

She placed hers upon it. The marks were shallow. He was grateful for that, and for the trust with which she had given him her hand without attempting another joke.

“I was very frightened,” she said.

“So was I.”

“Not of what I did.”

“I understood you.”

Her fingers turned within his. She was looking at him now, and the distance between their chairs seemed much less than it had been a moment before.

Darcy raised his eyes from her hand to her mouth. She drew a little nearer. Her free hand rested upon the arm of his chair, and he felt the warmth of her breath before he had moved far enough to meet her.

“Wait.”

He stopped.

Elizabeth’s fingers tightened briefly, then loosened. She looked down at their joined hands.

“Please. I need a moment.”

“Of course.”

He released her at once and sat back. A hundred explanations offered themselves, most of them painful. She had been frightened; he had mistaken relief for an inclination she did not feel. Or he had presumed too much upon a confidence she had scarcely begun to offer him.

He would not make her supply an answer merely to relieve his uncertainty.

Elizabeth rose, then stopped beside her chair.

“I am not sorry I came.”

“Nor am I.”

“I did not mean—”

“You need not explain now.”

She looked at him carefully. Whatever she sought in his face, she appeared to find enough to let her breathe more easily.

“I shall see you tomorrow,” she said.

“Yes.”

At the door she turned once more, but only to tell him to let Reynolds bring his lunch before he attempted any work. He promised, and she went out.