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“My mother says we ought to be content indoors in November.”
“Your mother must have better indoor occupations than mine.”
Miss Westcott laughed. Mrs. Westcott, who had heard perfectly well, observed that a warm room generally seemed more desirable after one had spent ten minutes admiring a cold view.
“Then we must not detain you so long,” Elizabeth said.
They returned toward the open door. A footman was bringing a fresh plate of sandwiches, partly covered with a linen napkin, to the little table just inside it. He set the plate down while another servant asked where the used cups should be taken.
Sir appeared from beneath the nearer chair.
“No,” Elizabeth said at once.
He had already put his nose level with the table.
“Sir.”
Sir seized a sandwich together with a corner of the linen covering it. The plate tilted as he pulled, and Elizabeth caught it before it could fall.
“Mr. Darcy!”
Darcy was greeting Mrs. Landon beside the other doorway. He turned at Elizabeth’s voice, saw the dog, and abandoned the remainder of a dignified bow.
“Houndsmere.”
Sir walked briskly onto the terrace, trailing the small cloth. Darcy followed. Elizabeth put the rescued plate into the footman’s hands and hurried after them, laughing too much to offer a useful command.
“He has heard you,” she said. “He merely prefers not to answer.”
Darcy reached for the collar. Sir turned beneath his hand and went around the nearest stone urn, keeping it between himself and his master.
“If you stand there,” Darcy told Elizabeth, “he cannot go farther without passing one of us.”
She took the place he indicated. Sir looked at her, the cloth still hanging from his mouth.
“You cannot expect my assistance,” she told him. “I have already supplied a basket on your behalf. I do not mean to furnish every visitor with a second lunch.”
The dog chewed.
“We have lost the sandwich,” Darcy said.
“We may yet preserve the linen.”
He advanced once more. Sir turned toward Elizabeth, who held the end of the cloth and waited. To finish his stolen mouthful the dog was obliged to release it. Darcy took his collar before he could decide upon another escape.
“There,” Elizabeth said, holding the damp cloth away from her gown. “We have obtained a very poor exchange.”
“I shall ask Cook to replace it.”
“The linen?”
“The sandwich.”
She laughed again. “You must be precise when promising restitution. Mrs. Reynolds may expect you to account for both.”
Darcy looked at the cloth, then at her. His own composure failed.
For a moment they stood laughing on either side of the dog while the people behind the glass watched them. Elizabeth knew very well that they were being observed. She could not make the knowledge diminish her pleasure in his company.
