Page 59 of A Question of Character

“And to Miss Bennet’s sisters,” Georgiana added quickly.

“I shall remember.”

The coachman gathered the reins, and the horses started forward with an easy motion.

Elizabeth could not resist one last glance through the window.

Darcy remained upon the pavement beside his sister, one hand resting upon the brim of his hat. Georgiana lifted hers in a cheerful farewell. Elizabeth responded in kind.

The carriage rolled into the traffic of London.

She continued looking back until the houses narrowed the view. Darcy became a dark figure among many others upon the street, then disappeared altogether as they rounded the corner.

Mrs. Gardiner adjusted the ribbon of her bonnet and regarded her niece with unmistakable affection.

“You have had a pleasant walk.”

Elizabeth attempted an answer that sounded perfectly ordinary.

“A very pleasant one.”

Mrs. Gardiner merely nodded and looked out her own window, leaving Elizabeth grateful that no further observations were offered.

She was not at all certain she could have answered them.

eight

A Most Unwelcome Discovery

The sea possessed a curious talent for disguising the passage of time.

The first weeks of June slipped by in Ramsgate with remarkable sameness. Sunlight glittered across the harbor; fishermen called to one another while preparing their boats; visitors crowded the promenade whenever the weather proved agreeable; and each evening the tide altered the familiar shoreline just enough to persuade one that tomorrow would differ from today.

It seldom did.

Darcy had discovered, to his surprise, that routine became tolerable when it contained Elizabeth Bennet.

Without her, every hour appeared slightly diminished.

His business occupied the mornings. Correspondence from Pemberley arrived regularly, accompanied by reports from his steward concerning tenants, rents, repairs to boundary walls, and the endless practical concerns attached to a great estate. Ramsgate itself required attention as well. Servants sought direction, tradesmen submitted accounts, and his solicitor wrote twice regarding an inconvenient disagreement over a neighboring property.

The work filled his hands.

It did very little for his thoughts.

More than once, while sorting estate papers, he found his attention wandering to Gracechurch Street. A particular observation of Elizabeth’s would intrude without invitation. Sometimes it was a jest. Sometimes merely the recollection of her expression when she believed herself especially clever. Once, to his lasting annoyance, he caught himself wondering whether Ireland possessed agreeable bookshops.

He folded another letter and reached for the next.

It concerned sheep.

That, at least, demanded less sentiment.

A knock interrupted him.

“Come.”

Georgiana entered without hesitation, carrying a small basket upon her arm.