Page 41 of A Question of Character

Darcy’s mouth formed no smile, but there was something in the severe line of it that she had learned to distrust. He was amused; he simply refused to assist her by displaying it. “A man with an estate, a large fortune, and a younger sister who will possess her own considerable portion must expect certain calculations. Some are harmless. Some are merely tiresome. A few become impertinent.”

“And Miss Bingley?”

“Tiresome,” he said, then seemed to regret the bluntness. “At least in this matter.”

“You are charitable to distinguish.”

“I try to be fair.”

“Do you?”

His attention fixed upon her with interest. “You doubt it?”

“I doubt everyone who claims fairness too readily. It is often another word for judging with excellent posture.”

Mrs. Gardiner did not succeed in hiding her laugh. She covered it with a cough and reached for the sealing wax.

Darcy’s lips moved, though he brought them back under command. “Then I must revise my statement. I try, at intervals, to be fair. At other times, I am resentful and call it discernment.”

Elizabeth’s delight in this confession nearly overcame her. “Mr. Darcy, that is wonderfully honest.”

“Do not praise me yet. It may grow worse.”

“I live in hope.”

He leaned back in his chair, his dark coat severe against the pale upholstery. The breeze shifted one corner of the paper upon Mrs. Gardiner’s desk, and she set a silver weight upon it without disturbing the conversation.

“I do not easily forgive a serious wrong,” Darcy said. “My good opinion, once lost, is very difficult to recover. Perhaps impossible, depending upon the offense.”

Elizabeth’s needle remained idle in the basket. “That sounds dangerously permanent.”

“I know.”

“And you say it as a fault?”

“Yes.”

“But one you have no intention of mending?”

This time he did smile, though reluctantly. “You give no quarter.”

“I am considering the case. A fault should be examined from every angle before it is condemned or excused.”

“Then you are in a generous mood.”

“I am in an inquisitive one. Generosity may follow.”

Darcy’s gaze lowered to the tea table, where Mrs. Gardiner had arranged cakes, biscuits, and a small dish of sugared almonds. He took none of them. “When I decide a man has acted dishonorably, I cannot easily separate that act from his character. I know people may change. I have seen very little to persuade me that those who profit by wrongdoing are eager to become better.”

“That is severe.”

“It is.”

“And true?”

“I believe so.”

Elizabeth studied him. The remark had not been formed for display. He had retreated somewhere while saying it, though he remained in the same chair, in the same room, with the same afternoon light crossing the carpet.