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“Then you must prevent me from beginning, for I have a great many things to say and no strength to finish them.”

He smiled. It was the first time since the evening before that smiling required no effort.

Mrs. Reynolds came along the passage with Sally behind her. The housekeeper took in Elizabeth’s face, her hand upon Darcy’s arm, and the short distance they had travelled.

“Your room is ready, miss. Sally will help you.”

“I ought to see Mama first.”

“Mrs. Bennet is with your sister. She has been told you are going to rest.”

Sally opened Elizabeth’s door. Darcy brought her as far as it, then released her hand with more reluctance than the small separation justified.

“Sleep,” he said.

She gave him a tired smile. “You, too.”

He meant to obey. First he went to find Mr. Bennet.

Her father stood near his own door, waiting while a maid carried Mrs. Bennet’s shawl to Jane. He turned when Darcy approached.

“I am told we have a grandson.”

“You do, sir. Mrs. Talbot says both mother and child are well.”

Mr. Bennet’s mouth moved, but for a moment he could not answer. He took off his spectacles and wiped them, though Darcy could see no mark upon the glass.

“My wife has gone to make certain he resembles the proper people.”

“I expect she will be successful.”

“She generally is.”

They stood together while the maid returned. Mr. Bennet asked if Jane would see him when she had rested, and accepted the assurance that he would be called. He did not attempt a second joke.

Darcy offered to have breakfast sent to him.

“Yes,” Mr. Bennet said after a moment. “I believe I could eat something now.”

Charles came for Darcy the following afternoon with the air of a man inviting a friend to inspect a possession which surpassed every description he could supply.

“Jane would like to see you, if you are not occupied. Our son is awake for once.”

Darcy set down Hammond’s account. He had read the same line three times without reaching the sum beneath it.

“I am not.”

Jane was propped against the pillows when they entered, with her hair neatly arranged and a shawl about her shoulders. She looked tired. She also looked so pleased that Darcy found himself smiling before she spoke.

“Mr. Darcy, you have been very patient with us.”

“Bingley may have exaggerated his claims upon my patience.”

“I doubt that. He has told me a little of the night.”

Charles moved to the bedside. The child lay in his mother’s arms, his eyes shut despite the invitation which had been issued on the strength of their being open.

“You have missed him,” Charles said with disappointment.