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Elizabeth’s eyes shone. She made no attempt to hide it.

“The fever did not come because you had not answered.”

“No.”

“She knew you loved her?”

“I told her.”

“Then I hope she believed you.”

It was not the absolution he had dreaded or the condemnation he had prepared to endure. Elizabeth could not know what Georgiana believed. He found some comfort in her refusing to pretend that she did.

“I hope so, too,” he said.

For a little while neither spoke. Darcy sat back and found that his hand was no longer quite steady. Elizabeth took a clean handkerchief from her pocket, hesitated, then held it toward him without a word.

He accepted it and passed it across his eyes. He had one of his own, but could not have rejected hers merely to prove himself supplied.

When he could look at her again, she had risen and moved to the window. She stood with her back to the room until he said her name.

“Miss Bennet.”

She turned.

“I am obliged to you.”

“No. Please do not thank me yet.” She came back to her chair. “I have treated you very unjustly. I saw that Anna knew you, that you loved her and provided for her, and I chose an explanation which made all of it a reproach.”

“You did not know.”

“I knew that I did not know. That ought to have restrained me.”

He remembered her sudden withdrawal upon the path, the careful civility after a moment’s laughter. It had not all been indifference. The relief of discovering that was inseparable from the pain of learning its cause.

“Did you speak of it to anyone?” he asked.

“To Caroline. Once, after I first visited Anna. I did not state it as a fact, but I left her in no doubt of what I suspected. She denied it.”

“And your sister?”

“No. Nor anyone at home.”

He nodded.

“I shall tell Caroline I was mistaken,” Elizabeth continued. “I shall tell her nothing of your sister. You have my word.”

“Thank you.”

“I am sorry, Mr. Darcy. For the suspicion, and for making your kindness so difficult to receive.”

He could hear the effort in the apology. She had offered no defence of it, though his own conduct had furnished one.

“I accept your apology.”

Her shoulders eased a little. She did not immediately smile, and he was glad. They had not settled everything merely by naming the mistake.

He looked toward the cap again. “I ought to have let Martha finish her visit.”