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Darcy drew his chair nearer and took the particulars. For several minutes they examined the stated distances, the number of rooms, and an account of the grounds sufficiently flattering to make a visit necessary. He agreed to accompany Bingley when the viewing could be arranged.

“Come and walk with us now,” Bingley said when they had finished. “Jane will want to hear what you think.”

“I have a visit to make before lunch. I shall see her afterward.”

Bingley accepted the answer and went to find his wife, with Houndsmere close behind. Darcy waited until their footsteps had faded before putting away the house particulars. He had been glad of the conversation. It was nevertheless a relief to have a few moments in which nobody required him to speak.

“You have missed a very fine laugh, sir,” Martha Hargreaves said as Darcy came through the cottage door. “Thomas has been trying to obtain another ever since.”

“I have been about my work,” Thomas said.

There were two empty orchard baskets beside his chair. Anna sat upon Ruth’s knee, watching him move one of them backward and forward with his foot.

“Has the work prospered?” Darcy asked.

“Not since she discovered how I did it.” Thomas moved the basket again. Anna regarded it without interest, then turned at Darcy’s voice.

“Well, Anna. Have you tired of him already?”

She began kicking beneath her gown. Ruth rose and brought her to him, but Anna reached before the transfer was accomplished and caught his cravat.

“Wait a moment, little one.” Darcy supported her head while Ruth freed the linen. “You must allow me to take you first.”

“She has been pulling at everything this morning,” Ruth said. “My cap has suffered terribly.”

Darcy sat in the chair Thomas vacated for him. His niece looked up at his face, opened her mouth in a wet smile, and reached for the cravat again.

“That is hardly suitable.” He eased one finger between hers and substituted it for the linen. “We have discussed this before.”

Anna closed her hand about his finger. When he attempted to draw it away, her brows gathered, and he laughed softly.

“My sister used to look at me just so.”

Martha took the chair beside the hearth. “Miss Georgiana, sir?”

“If I tried to put her down before she was ready. She might have been perfectly content with her nurse until I came in, but once I had taken her up I was not allowed to change my mind.”

“How old were you then?”

“Thirteen when she was born. I thought myself much too old to spend my time in a nursery.”

“But you went all the same,” Martha said.

“My mother asked me to hold her one afternoon. I sat so still that she thought I must be uncomfortable and offered to take her back.”

He looked down at Anna’s fingers curled about his own.

“I would not let her.”

He could remember his mother’s hand beneath Georgiana’s head, showing him how to support it. His sister had been asleep, her cheek warm through the fine linen against his wrist. When his arm began to ache, he had said nothing. He had wanted to keep her a little longer.

Anna tugged at his finger, drawing his attention back to her. She had the same serious look Georgiana had worn before a smile overtook it. He found himself watching for the smile, wanting Martha to see the resemblance, too.

“Your mother was no more reasonable,” he told Anna.

The words caught him unprepared. There should have been someone beside him to dispute them, to take her daughter from his arms and insist that the fault was his. Georgiana would have liked that. She had so seldom prevailed in an argument with him.

He lifted Anna a little higher against his chest. Her hand opened upon his cheek.