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“I am discovering that leaves require more attention than I had supposed.”

Miss Westcott laughed, taking this for an agreement. Mr. Darcy’s mouth moved as though he might question Elizabeth further, but Mr. Westcott addressed him about a field newly cleared of grain, and Elizabeth gladly turned to Jane.

Her sister was listening to Mrs. Landon’s account of the neighbourhood. She asked which families remained through the winter and whether the nearest village had a bookseller. Charles, hearing the question, promised to discover one even if obliged to bring him from Derby.

“I wish to buy a book, my dear,” Jane said. “You need not purchase the shop.”

Mr. Darcy laughed. It was a brief, unguarded sound. Elizabeth looked at him before she could prevent herself, and he met her eyes across the table.

For a moment she wanted nothing more than to share his amusement.

She looked back at Jane.

After supper Caroline played. She had chosen well, beginning with something lively enough to please the visitors and following it with a quieter piece when Jane settled more comfortably in her chair. There was no fault Elizabeth could honestly discover in the performance. Caroline’s hands moved with an assurance she herself acquired only after considerably more practice than she generally cared to undertake.

Mr. Darcy stood near the instrument. When Caroline asked whether he would turn the page, he did so, and remained when she began the next piece.

Elizabeth resented how handsome they looked together.

It was an unreasonable resentment. Caroline liked him, approved of him, and believed his conduct beyond the fault Elizabeth suspected. Caroline might hope for his attentions with a consistency which Elizabeth could not claim for herself. That did not make watching them agreeable.

Miss Westcott asked whether Elizabeth played.

“A little,” she replied. “Miss Bingley has spared you the necessity of discovering how little.”

“I should like to hear you nevertheless.”

“Then you are very kind, and I shall endeavour to preserve your good opinion until another evening.”

She escaped to Jane’s side when the music ended. Her sister took her hand for a moment and asked whether she had enjoyed herself.

“Yes,” Elizabeth said, and found with some surprise that it was partly true.

The guests had been pleasant. Jane had laughed. Charles was already arranging a return visit which his wife sensibly declined to fix until she knew how she felt. Pemberley had contained an ordinary, cheerful evening, and Elizabeth had helped to give Jane that much, even if her own contribution to the table now lay in a basket somewhere below stairs.

When the visitors had gone, Mrs. Reynolds met her at the foot of the staircase.

“The cuttings are quite still, miss,” she said quietly. “I put them where no one will trouble them tonight.”

“Have they altered at all?”

“Not since you left them.”

Elizabeth looked at her hands. They appeared as incapable of causing such trouble as they had that morning.

“I had meant to help.”

“I know, miss.” Mrs. Reynolds waited until a servant passed through the hall with the empty tea tray. “Tomorrow we must find somewhere you can try again without a table laid for ten.”

Elizabeth nodded. Above them, Caroline was telling Charles that the flowers had been very easily put right.

For once, Elizabeth had no wish to contradict her.

Chapter Fifteen

BY SUNDAY AFTERNOON, Elizabeth had agreed with Mrs. Reynolds that nothing more should be attempted in the dining room.

The little sitting room beyond the housekeeper’s office appeared a much safer place. It contained no company, no flowers, and no tablecloth which required changing before supper. Mrs. Reynolds had spread a folded towel upon the table and brought a box of discarded threads. Elizabeth was to discover whether she could tighten a knot as well as loosen it.