Page 9 of A Question of Character

Miss Bennet blinked, then laughed. “That is very grand praise for a woman who merely criticized clouds.”

“Never merely. You did so with conviction.”

“My convictions are frequently attached to trivial subjects.”

“A useful habit. It gives one practice for the serious ones.”

Mrs. Gardiner reached for her work basket. “I see I need not exert myself to promote conversation.”

Darcy presented the invitation before he could be diverted from his purpose. “My sister and I would be honored if you and Mr. Gardiner would dine with us on Thursday. Miss Bennet, I hope you will accompany them.”

Mrs. Gardiner accepted with evident pleasure. “We should be delighted, provided Mr. Gardiner has no prior engagement. I believe Thursday is free.”

“I shall be very happy to come,” Miss Bennet said. “I have heard a great deal of Miss Darcy.”

Darcy’s pleasure suffered a brief stumble. “From Mrs. Gardiner?”

“From my aunt, yes. Also from yesterday’s conversation, though you spoke less of her accomplishments than of her virtues, which is generally a better recommendation.”

“She is shy with new acquaintance.”

“I shall try not to terrify her.”

Mrs. Gardiner glanced up from sorting silks. “Elizabeth’s methods of terror are chiefly verbal, Mr. Darcy. If Miss Darcy survives the first quarter hour, she will likely be safe.”

“I do not terrorize people,” Miss Bennet said.

“You have terrorized many foolish opinions.”

“That is an act of public service.”

Darcy looked down, ostensibly to settle his gloves upon the table beside his hat. “My sister has been too much among people who are either determined to flatter her or determined to awe her. I suspect a little ordinary conversation would be welcome.”

“Then I shall ask what music she likes and whether she prefers town or country, and I shall save all my most alarming opinions until our second meeting.”

“Very considerate.”

“I can be considerate when properly motivated.”

Mrs. Gardiner drew her needle through the cloth, her gaze briefly meeting Darcy’s. The look was maternal, amused, and far too knowing. Darcy shifted his attention toward the book Miss Bennet had set aside.

“May I ask what you are reading?”

She picked it up and displayed the volume. “Cowper.”

“Ah.”

“That is a dangerous syllable, Mr. Darcy.”

“Is it?”

“It may mean admiration, disapproval, or the reluctant tolerance of a gentleman too polite to object.”

“I intended admiration, though perhaps with caution.”

“Caution? Toward poetry?”

“Toward excessive melancholy in poetry.”