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“So should I.”
He had not intended to say it. Bingley looked at him, and Darcy pressed his lips together, unable to explain how much of his sister’s life he had thought there would be time to learn.
Bingley drew out a chair. “We need not go back yet.”
They sat for several minutes in the billiard room. Charles said nothing further about the illness. Darcy was grateful to sit without inventing another answer, and after a while he found he could listen to the music without waiting for it to stop.
When he rose, Bingley rose with him.
They found the ladies as they had left them, except that the wool was wound and Miss Bennet had taken a book from a nearby table. Caroline had finished playing and was searching among the music for something else. Darcy crossed to help her find the piece she wanted and placed it upon the stand.
Caroline smoothed the folds of her gown and smiled up at him. “You are always so attentive, Mr. Darcy.” She drew another sheet from the pile, plainly expecting him to remain beside her.
Darcy bowed his acknowledgment, then turned toward Elizabeth before Caroline could find another reason to keep him there.
“Is that one you have read before, Miss Bennet?” Darcy asked.
Elizabeth looked up from her book. “No. May I borrow it?”
“Certainly. I meant to ask whether you found it interesting.”
“I have reached the second page. Everyone is still behaving very well. I cannot imagine it will last.”
“It does not,” Darcy said.
Elizabeth’s eyes brightened. “Then you have read it.”
“Some time ago.”
“You must not tell me anything further.”
“I had no intention of doing so.”
She glanced at the vacant chair beside the little table, then back at the book. The movement was hardly an invitation. Nevertheless, Darcy sat down.
“You might tell me,” she said, closing the volume over one finger, “whether the second half is as good as the first. I dislike discovering that an author has grown tired before I have.”
“Read the first half and tell me your opinion,” Darcy said. “Then I shall know whether to recommend the rest.”
“Must we agree before you will allow me to finish?”
“Certainly not. I should be sorry to lose the discussion.”
Elizabeth smiled and opened the book again. At the pianoforte, Caroline began to play.
Chapter Four
ELIZABETH BEGAN HER letter to her father with an account of Jane’s health, knowing that her mother would require it before she permitted him to enjoy anything else. Her glove lay beside the paper, bearing a faint mark of its adventure. Mrs. Reynolds had returned it the previous morning with an apology on behalf of the dog. Elizabeth had offered to accept the apology directly from the offender, but he had been occupied in accompanying Charles to breakfast.
Pemberley, August 28, 1813
My dear Papa,
Jane sleeps well, eats very well, and has discovered that the most effective means of quieting her husband is to give him something to fetch. He cannot ask whether she wants anything while he is out of the room.
You may tell Mama that the south rooms receive all the sunshine she could wish for, and that I am lodged so near my sister I may scarcely sneeze without being offered assistance. Mr. Darcy has provided for every comfort. I believe he would regulate the weather if someone could assure him of the proper method.
The dog is called Lord Houndsmere, though we are upon sufficiently good terms that I address him as Sir. He has already borrowed one glove. His master lends books, which is a more useful foundation for acquaintance, and I am attempting to judge him accordingly.
