Page 24 of Honor Requires

“I did.” Darcy regarded her steadily. “I am given to understand that you spoke to my sister this morning regarding her attendance at our engagement this afternoon.”

Mrs. Younge nodded her head. “I may have expressed some concern, sir. Only in the interest of Miss Darcy’s well-being.”

“In what manner?”

She hesitated—just enough to suggest reluctance, though not so much as to appear evasive. “I thought it prudent,” she said, “to remind Miss Darcy that not all acquaintances are equally suitable. Young ladies, particularly those of her station, must be guarded against forming connections which might—however unintentionally—prove disadvantageous.”

Darcy’s gaze did not waver. “You refer to the Gardiners and Miss Bennet.”

“I refer only to the general principle,” Mrs. Younge replied smoothly. “Though it is true that familiarity with those outside one’s proper sphere can sometimes invite misunderstandings. I should be most distressed if Miss Darcy were to be—misled.”

The word lingered, delicately placed. Darcy recognized it for what it was. Manipulation. Concern, artfully presented. Doubt subtly introduced. All couched in the language of propriety. “I appreciate your concern,” he said at last, his tone even.

Mrs. Younge’s expression lightened, as though reassured. “Then you understand my intention, sir.”

“I do,” he replied. “And I dismiss it.”

A flicker—brief, but unmistakable—passed through her eyes. “Mr. Darcy—”

“You will keep your opinions to yourself,” he insisted, his voice firm now, leaving no room for misinterpretation. “It is my responsibility to determine with whom my sister shall associate. Not yours.”

Mrs. Younge lowered her gaze. “Of course, sir. I meant only—”

“You meant to advise where advice was neither requested nor required.”

She drew a breath. “I beg your pardon if I have overstepped.” The apology was properly formed, though something in its delivery lacked sincerity.

Darcy inclined his head. “See that it does not occur again.”

“Yes, sir.” She curtsied, her expression stiff and formal once more and withdrew.

Darcy remained where he was after her departure, his thoughts settling. There was something in her manner—something beneath the surface—that he did not entirely trust. He would observe more closely. For now, however—He turned toward the door. The day awaited, and with it an engagement he found himself anticipating with a degree of interest he did not care to examine too closely.

Elizabeth Bennet. The name alone was enough to dispel the lingering irritation of the morning. Darcy left the drawing room and made his way upstairs, where Georgiana was already prepared, her expression bright with expectation.

“Shall we go, Brother?”

“We shall.”

He offered his arm, and she took it at once.

Together, they descended and stepped out into the clear, welcoming day, the carriage already waiting to convey them to Mrs. Peacock’s—where, if he had any reason to suppose rightly, the afternoon would prove far more agreeable than the morning had begun.

The sound of wheels upon the street drew Elizabeth once more to the window, though this time she did not pretend indifference. The Darcy carriage came into view with a subtle elegance that matched its owner, the dark horses stepping neatly as they drew to a halt before the house.

“They are punctual,” Mrs. Gardiner observed, rising with poised readiness. “Your uncle has sent his apologies once more. Business, it seems, will not be denied.”

Elizabeth turned from the window, smoothing her gloves. “I am sorry he cannot join us, though I suspect he will regret missing such an outing.”

“As shall we regret his absence,” Mrs. Gardiner replied lightly, “though I daresay we shall contrive to enjoy ourselves nonetheless.”

Elizabeth did not doubt it.

They were received into the carriage with proper civility, Mr. Darcy assisting Mrs. Gardiner first, then offering his hand to Elizabeth. She felt the steadiness of his grasp, the brief moment of shared awareness before she settled into her seat opposite him, Miss Darcy beside her brother and Mrs. Gardiner at Elizabeth’s other side.

The carriage set off at once, the motion smooth and unhurried.

“I must confess,” Elizabeth said as they turned toward the road leading nearer the sea, “I have not visited Mrs. Peacock’s establishment. I feel myself quite remiss in the matter.”