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She looked toward him. “Before somebody carries a wet basket to the house?”

“Yes.”

“I did not mean—”

“You may have meant it. I should prefer that to discovering another omission.”

Elizabeth was quiet for several steps. “Then I am glad you have asked.”

They reached the cottage without further dispute. Mrs. Bell opened the door before Darcy knocked and appeared to have spent the morning preparing for an inspection far more formidable than the one he intended. The hearth was swept, the chairs had been set straight, and the grandson stood beside the table with his hair still damp from an effort to make it lie flat.

Darcy regretted the warning he had sent.

“I wished only to see that you were comfortable,” he said.

“We are very comfortable, sir. Pray come in.”

A small fire burned in the grate. Mrs. Bell pointed out the place above the hearth where the rain had entered, then showed him the shelf which had been emptied and scrubbed. There was still a dark mark upon the plaster.

“That will be attended to when it has dried properly,” Darcy said.

“It does not trouble me. I would sooner have the fire.”

“You may have both.”

Miss Bennet stood beside the table, listening. He was conscious of her while he examined the repaired place, and annoyed with himself for wondering whether an assurance about plaster could persuade her of anything she had ceased to believe about his character.

Mrs. Bell drew the larger chair away from the hearth and asked Miss Bennet to sit. Elizabeth began to refuse until the boy pushed a little stool toward Darcy.

“Grandmother says you are too tall for it,” he said. “But it is the sound one.”

Darcy looked at the stool. It had been made for someone a third his size.

“The chair in the corner has a loose leg,” the boy explained, pointing. “She told me not to offer you that.”

“Sam,” Mrs. Bell said in distress.

Darcy sat upon the stool.

His knees rose to an unfamiliar height. There was no dignified arrangement for his feet, but he found one which would permit him to remain upright and thanked the boy.

“It is perfectly sound.”

Sam regarded him with satisfaction. Elizabeth had turned her face toward the window. Darcy saw her lips press together.

“You may laugh, Miss Bennet,” he said.

“I should not presume.”

“I fear your restraint may distress you.”

She laughed then, though she tried to hide it behind her glove. Mrs. Bell apologized again, and Elizabeth immediately said that the stool had been very well chosen.

“Mr. Darcy is accustomed to seeing everything from above. It may be useful to have a different view.”

“He can see the damp,” Sam offered. “From there.”

Darcy looked at the low mark upon the wall. “So I can.”