Page 171 of A Question of Character

They walked beneath the apple trees where the grass had grown damp from the morning mist. The house remained visible through the branches, which satisfied propriety, though the distance gave them room enough for a little honesty.

Darcy spoke first.

“I behaved poorly when last we parted.”

“Yes.”

He let out a breath that was close to a laugh. “You do not trouble yourself to spare me.”

“Would you prefer flattery?”

“No.”

“Then yes.”

“I asked you to choose between your family’s judgment and mine. That was unfair.”

Elizabeth’s fingers gripped his sleeve. “Thank you.”

“I did not see it clearly until afterward.”

“That is often the most inconvenient time to see clearly.”

“It has been my experience.”

She looked up at him. “You will truly consider speaking with Mr. Wickham?”

“I will.”

“Not merely because I kissed you.”

His stride faltered.

Elizabeth wished the ground would open and swallow her.

“I beg your—no. You told me not to beg pardon.”

“I did.”

“Then I shall say that I have made myself ridiculous twice in one morning.”

“You have not.”

“I have.”

“You have made me very happy and somewhat incapable of ordinary thought. That is not the same.”

She could not answer for several steps.

Darcy’s hand covered hers where it rested upon his arm. The gesture was brief, proper because of its brevity, but it steadied her.

“I cannot promise to believe Wickham,” he said.

“I know.”

“I cannot promise even to like him.”

“I had not entertained such a wild hope.”