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After lunch, Jane went upstairs to rest. Charles and Mr. Darcy withdrew to examine a map connected with the proposed house, leaving Elizabeth in the morning room with her work and Caroline at the writing table.

For several minutes the sound of Caroline’s pen was the only interruption to the quiet. Elizabeth was fastening a new ribbon to Jane’s workbag. The old one had frayed where it passed through a little ivory ring, and she had offered to replace it before Jane lost her scissors through the opening.

“I understand you have begun making visits,” Caroline said at last.

Elizabeth looked up. “Only one.”

“Mrs. Reynolds mentioned that you carried a parcel to a cottage yesterday. You have lost no time in making yourself useful.”

The words might have been civil had Caroline not examined Elizabeth’s sewing while she spoke them.

“Jane supplied the parcel. I supplied the legs.”

“Indeed. I should have thought a servant might have done as much.”

“And deprived me of my walk? That would scarcely have been kind.”

Caroline sanded her letter and set it aside. “Was your walk agreeable?”

“Very. Mrs. Hargreaves has a pretty little girl in her care. Anna. Jane sent her some gowns.”

“I do not recollect the name.”

“The cottage is beyond the kitchen gardens. Mr. Darcy called while I was there.”

“That would be natural. He is attentive to the people upon his estate.”

Elizabeth drew the ribbon through the ring. Caroline had supplied the answer so readily that it was difficult not to challenge it.

“He appeared particularly attentive to this child.”

Caroline turned in her chair. “In what manner?”

“She knew him at once. He brought her a silver rattle, and said he had known her from her birth. Her mother is dead. He told me this morning that he knew her very well, and that he means to provide for Anna.”

“Then she is a fortunate little girl.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said. “I should like to think so.”

Caroline laid down the pen she had taken up again.

“What do you mean by that?”

Elizabeth wished she had left the subject alone. The room was empty but for the two of them, and there was nobody to interrupt a conversation which had already gone farther than she intended.

“I mean that I wondered what particular claim she had upon his interest.”

“Miss Eliza.” Caroline’s expression hardened. “Surely you cannot be suggesting what I think you are.”

“I have made no assertion.”

“You have contrived to make yourself perfectly understood without one.”

Elizabeth put her work upon her lap. There was enough truth in the accusation to make her resent its justice.

“The child is five months old,” she said. “She lives with a family who employ a nurse for her, in a cottage lately put into excellent repair. Mr. Darcy knows her very well. I found it an unusual arrangement.”

“You know nothing of the arrangement.”