Page 44 of A Question of Character

That drew another laugh from her, though softer this time. “Then perhaps we are both in danger. You cannot forgive easily, and I am too convinced I shall know whom to forgive.”

“An alarming pair of faults.”

“Very alarming. We must hope they do not lead either of us into disaster.”

Darcy said nothing.

The light conversation ought to have carried them past that line. Instead, the words remained troublesome in the air, more troublesome because neither had meant them seriously. Elizabeth tugged at the knotted thread in her handkerchief until it snarled beyond rescue.

“There,” she said, holding it up. “My mending has become a moral illustration. I was certain I knew what I was doing.”

Darcy leaned forward, examined the ruin, and took the handkerchief when she offered it. His fingers were large against the fine linen, far too elegant for the work and yet strangely competent in attempting it.

“I cannot promise success,” he said.

“You are attempting needlework?”

“I am attempting rescue.”

“Another fallen horse?”

“Worse. Wounded linen.”

He worked the knot loose with patience. Elizabeth watched his hands because she could not very well watch his face, and because hands suddenly seemed an acceptable subject for attention. When the thread came free, he handed her the handkerchief with solemn satisfaction.

“There. No disaster.”

“You are becoming practiced in preventing them.”

His gaze met hers. “I hope so.”

The door opened before Elizabeth could answer, and Mrs. Gardiner reentered with such excellent timing that Elizabeth wondered whether her aunt had been listening in the passage. Her expression betrayed nothing. That alone was suspicious.

“Mr. Gardiner has sent word that he is detained another hour,” she said. “Mr. Darcy, if you can endure our diminished company, you must stay for another cup.”

Darcy accepted.

Elizabeth bent over the mending again, but this time she made no stitches at all.

Mrs. Gardiner poured fresh tea and resumed her place with an air of complete innocence, though Elizabeth remained persuaded her aunt had contrived her absence with suspicious precision.

“You were speaking of Mr. Bingley,” Mrs. Gardiner said, passing the cream. “I interrupted the subject most shamefully.”

Darcy accepted the cup she offered. “There was little more to say. He is one of the best men I know.”

“Then I hope we shall meet him another season,” Elizabeth replied. “He sounds too agreeable to remain merely a name.”

“I think you would like him exceedingly.”

“And his sisters?”

Darcy hesitated just long enough for Elizabeth to notice.

“That answer has already been given,” she said.

“It has?”

“You delayed.”