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He had accepted her apology. It did not follow that every hurt it addressed had disappeared.

Elizabeth stayed until Jane woke. They ate lunch together, and afterward she asked whether her sister needed anything before she went out.

“Only a report of the weather,” Jane said. “Charles tells me it is pleasant whenever I ask, and then brings another shawl.”

“I shall be exact. You may receive a very dull account.”

“I should like one.”

Elizabeth put on her old pelisse and found Sally below. The maid had finished the work Mrs. Reynolds required of her and could accompany her to the Hargreaves cottage. Sir rose from the hearth as soon as he saw them preparing to leave.

“You may come,” Elizabeth told him. “But if there is food upon the road, you are to consider it another person’s property.”

Sir pushed his nose beneath her hand.

“That is not an agreement.”

Sally laughed and opened the door.

The afternoon was mild enough for Elizabeth to loosen her shawl once they had crossed the garden. Leaves lay thick beneath the trees, and Sir found so many things requiring examination that they reached the cottage before he did.

Martha welcomed them at once. Ruth sat near the fire with Anna upon her knee, and a length of fresh linen lay across the table beside Martha’s scissors.

“Mrs. Reynolds sent what we wanted yesterday,” Martha said, seeing Elizabeth look at it. “I am beginning another gown. This child does not wait for anyone’s sewing.”

Anna turned at Elizabeth’s voice. She regarded her solemnly, then reached toward the tassel at the end of her shawl.

“I suspect it is my trimming you remember,” Elizabeth said.

“You may take her, miss, if you like.”

Elizabeth removed the shawl first and gave it to Sally. Then she sat and received Anna, supporting her securely while the child considered the change.

Her eyes were Mr. Darcy’s eyes.

Elizabeth had thought that before and made a terrible use of the resemblance. Now she tried to see a girl she had never known in the little face before her. Mr. Darcy had said Georgiana rejected his choice of names. Elizabeth could almost imagine the satisfaction with which she had announced the one she preferred.

“Anna,” she said softly.

The child took hold of her finger.

Martha gathered the linen from the table, and Sally laid Elizabeth’s shawl in the space she cleared.

“She has been very merry today,” Martha said. “Thomas had her laughing before he went out.”

“What did he do?”

“Put an empty basket upon his head and pretended he could not find his hat. I cannot say which of them was more pleased.”

Ruth smiled. “He would not stop when Martha told him he was tiring her. Then she fell asleep upon his shoulder and he would not move for fear of waking her.”

Elizabeth looked at the chair beside the hearth. The room was full of evidence that Anna was loved: a cloth within reach of Ruth’s hand, the new linen, a little blanket folded upon the chair where Thomas might have needed it.

Nothing in learning the truth had altered those things.

Sir appeared at the open door and attempted to enter. Sally caught his collar before he could put his wet nose against Anna’s bare foot.

“Not just yet,” Elizabeth told him.