Page 106 of A Question of Character

“They produced one broken wheel, two damp inns, and a landlady in Kilkenny whom my aunt declared the finest woman in Europe.”

“That is a considerable distinction.”

“She earned it by producing dry sheets and edible fish on the same evening.”

Darcy’s mouth eased into the expression she had missed more than she cared to admit. “Then Europe may honor her without protest.”

“Ireland was beautiful,” Elizabeth said when the figure separated and brought them together again. “Wilder than I expected in some places, friendlier in others, and determined to teach English carriages humility. I am very glad to have gone.”

“And glad to be home?”

“Yes.” She looked briefly toward Jane, who was speaking with Mr. Bingley and smiling more than usual. “Very glad.”

“I am glad as well.”

“That I am home?”

“Yes.”

The answer, plain and unadorned, warmed her more than any polished compliment would have done. She lowered her eyes to the movement of the dance before her cheeks could betray her.

“And Ramsgate?” she asked after a moment. “Did it answer Miss Darcy’s expectations?”

His expression transformed so swiftly she regretted the question before he spoke.

“It was a trying summer.”

“Is she unwell?”

“No. Not unwell. She is in London now, with Mrs. Annesley and Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

“Colonel Fitzwilliam?”

“My cousin. He shares guardianship with me.”

Elizabeth’s confusion must have shown, for Darcy leaned nearer when the dance steps moved them briefly from notice.

“It is not a tale for a public room.”

She nodded at once. “Forgive me. I did not mean to intrude.”

“You did not.”

His eyes held hers for a second longer than the figure allowed, and then they were separated by the movement of the set.

The rest of the dance restored them by degrees to easier subjects. He asked after Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. She described her aunt’s war against Irish rain and her uncle’s delight in every merchant who would talk sensibly over accounts. Darcy spoke of Bingley’s enthusiasm for Netherfield and confessed, with a dryness that nearly undid her, that no house had ever been leased with more hope and less caution.

When the set ended, he led her from the floor.

Miss Bingley watched them from near the wall, her fan moving with such force that a lesser instrument might have surrendered.

“She is displeased,” Elizabeth said before she could stop herself.

Darcy followed her gaze and then looked back at Elizabeth without alarm. “Miss Bingley is often displeased.”

“I fear I may have contributed.”

“By existing in a manner inconvenient to her hopes.”