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There would be time to write to her father when she could keep her eyes open. Tonight Jane was comfortable, and her own bed was ready. Elizabeth put out the candle and lay down, with Sir breathing steadily beside her.

Chapter Two

DARCY HAD NEARLY finished his business with the steward when Lord Houndsmere pushed open the office door and brought a lady’s glove into the room.

The animal laid it beside Darcy’s boot with the air of having supplied something urgently required.

“That is not yours.” Darcy bent to retrieve it. There were damp marks about the fingers, but no damage that he could see. “Nor is it mine.”

Was it Miss Bingley’s or Miss Bennet’s? Either lady might reasonably object to receiving it in this condition. Darcy turned it over, but found nothing to settle the question. Houndsmere watched him with an interest that suggested he hoped to have it back.

Mr. Hammond waited with his pen raised above the book. He had managed Pemberley long enough to know that a reprimand addressed to the dog rarely required a witness’s agreement.

“Will there be anything further concerning the north pasture, sir?” Hammond asked.

“The gate is to be repaired before the cattle are moved. I will look at the bank myself next week.”

Darcy put the glove upon the corner of his desk, beyond Houndsmere’s reach. The dog lay down beneath it. Having entrusted the object to another, he appeared entirely relieved of responsibility for its condition.

“And Widow Bell?” Darcy asked, following the steward’s finger to the last item on the page.

“The chimney, sir. The mason is still engaged at the mill. I have her name down for his next visit.”

“The mason has been longer at the mill than expected,” Darcy said.

“A good deal more stone had to come away once they opened it. He thinks he will be free next week.”

“Very well. Keep her on the list.”

Hammond noted the instruction. There were rents to discuss, a boundary hedge damaged by wandering cattle, and a request from the carpenter for payment upon the Hargreaves cottage. Darcy examined the latter account, recognizing the sum already agreed for the roof and new shutters, and signed it without objection.

The morning’s work had progressed satisfactorily. By ten o’clock, he had settled most of the morning’s business and found no expenditure that could not be justified. He preferred to begin a day in this fashion. Letters might bring unwelcome news, and guests could form unreasonable expectations, but a broken gate admitted of repair.

He was putting the papers aside when Mrs. Reynolds appeared.

“Mrs. Bingley has had breakfast in her sitting room, sir. Mr. Bingley asks if you are at leisure to see him afterward.”

“Certainly. Is Mrs. Bingley comfortable?”

“She says she has not slept so well for a week.”

Darcy was pleased. The attention given to the rooms had not been wasted, whatever Miss Bennet thought of his habit of making arrangements.

He picked up the glove.

“Will you have this returned? Houndsmere brought it in.”

“Miss Bennet has been looking for it. She thought she must have dropped it on her way back from the garden.”

“She has been out already?”

“Only as far as the terrace,” Mrs. Reynolds replied. “She wished to see the view in the morning light.”

He glanced toward the window. A little mist remained in the valley, but the day promised well. His first impulse was to ask whether someone had shown her which paths were dry. Recollecting the reception of his solicitude on the previous afternoon, he gave Mrs. Reynolds the glove instead.

“It may require cleaning.”

“I shall attend to it.”