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“Then you may have missed him upon the stairs.”

Miss Bingley hesitated. “He was to decide whether we require anything from town. If the letter waits another day—”

“I am afraid I cannot write it for him.”

“No, of course. I shall look upstairs.”

She went, with a glance at Miss Bennet which appeared to invite her to follow. Miss Bennet remained.

Darcy waited until Caroline had reached the stairs. The silence beside him had become intolerable before Elizabeth spoke.

“Is Anna your daughter, Mr. Darcy?”

“No. She is my sister’s daughter.”

He answered before he had considered anything beyond the question. Miss Bennet went quite still.

“Your sister’s?”

“Georgiana’s.”

The name sounded different when spoken without a preparation or an excuse. He had spent months arranging what other people might safely hear. Now the truth stood between them, and he understood at last what accusation he had been trying to answer all these weeks.

“You thought she was mine?”

Miss Bennet’s colour rose painfully. “Yes.”

He looked toward the passage door. Anna had gone without her cap. It lay upon the table beside him, where he had put it beyond her reach.

Darcy took it up. He could not think what to do with it.

“I beg your pardon,” Elizabeth said. “I should not have asked you here.”

“Would you come into the library?”

She nodded.

He led the way, carrying the absurd little cap. There was no one in the library. He set it upon his desk, closed the door, and turned to find Miss Bennet standing beside the nearest chair.

“Please sit.”

“Thank you.”

He took the chair opposite. The distance seemed at once too great for what he had told her and too little for what remained to be said.

“I had supposed you knew,” he began.

“I did not. I had no reason to think of your sister. Jane told me she was only sixteen.”

“She was.”

Elizabeth looked down. He watched her clasp her hands together, then deliberately loosen them.

“I thought you had discovered it at the cottage,” Darcy said. “When you asked about Anna’s mother afterward, I believed you wished me to acknowledge what you already knew.”

“I wished to know whether her mother was still living. Until you answered, I did not even know that.”

He remembered every word of the conversation. Very well. Loved throughout the estate. She had not lived long after the birth. He had spoken of his sister and believed his grief must name her as plainly as any confession.