Page 101 of The Matchmaker’s Mistake

“Edward says it can,” Jane said, untying her bonnet. “But I believe his opinion was influenced by his desire to own it.”

Elizabeth smiled despite herself. “What a philosophical debate to have in a toy shop. Was the horse purchased?”

“No. It was beyond his means. But he was permitted to admire it for a rather long time.” Jane sat beside her and drew off her gloves, still smiling. “They were very good at the stationer’s. Less good before the pastry cook’s window, but truthfully, Lizzy, the iced cakes and sugar houses were charming, and I cannot say I blamed them. Even I wished to press my nose to the glass.”

They spoke of ordinary things over dinner—the warehouse, the children’s outing, Mary’s letter. Nobody mentioned the visit that would come tomorrow.

The candle was nearly out that night when Jane came in to speak with her.

“Shall I sit with you tomorrow? When Mr. Darcy comes?”

“You shall be wanted, certainly.”

“That is not what I asked.”

Elizabeth looked over. “What did you ask, then?”

“I am not certain,” Jane said. “Only you have not seemed yourself since the evening Miss Darcy played for us. If it is anything I may share, I wish you would allow me.”

“I cannot settle it in my mind, Jane,” Elizabeth said, moving over so that Jane might slip under the covers. “Why does he come? Has it anything to do with me at all, or is he visiting Aunt Gardiner for some reason? You know I cannot settle when I am faced with a question I cannot answer.”

“Tomorrow will be here soon enough, and then you will know. You should not fret yourself out of your rest tonight.”

If it were only so easy as this. “You are right, of course.”

There was a long pause where Jane seemed to be waiting for her to speak again, but Elizabeth did not know what to say.

Eventually, Jane swung her legs back out of the bed. “Good night, Lizzy.”

“Good night, Jane.”

Elizabeth could not put it aside. She lay awake, listening to the sounds of the house settling around her. She had spent all day fearing that he meant to explain himself, but now, in the dark, something worse occurred to her. That he would not explain himself at all.

“Oh,” she said with a groan, tossing herself onto her stomach and burying her face in her pillow. “I shall never sleep tonight.”

CHAPTER 25

Darcy had meant to have Anders set him down at the Gardiners’ door. Instead, somewhere near St. Paul’s, he checked his watch and told the coachman to take the carriage on to Gracechurch Street and wait there. He would walk the rest of the way.

It was not a long distance, but it was enough to prove that physical exertion did not calm him any better than sitting still had. Between St. Paul’s and the Gardiners’ house on Gracechurch Street, the speech Darcy had prepared changed three times. By the Poultry, it had lost most of its polish. By the time he turned into Gracechurch Street, only one sentence remained, and he suspected even that was too formal.

He was still early. So he walked around the block a few times, much as his mother had asked him to do in Mayfair. Finally, he stopped walking and raised his hand to the knocker.

The door was opened promptly by a footman, and just inside stood a boy of seven or eight, posted like a sentry.

“I am Mr. Darcy,” he said to the boy. And then, to the footman, “Mrs. Gardiner is expecting me.”

“You may not come in without the password,” the boy declared.

The footman pressed his lips together.

Darcy looked down at him. “I am afraid I have not been given one.”

The boy considered this. “Are you a link-boy?”

This must be the secret phrase, and Darcy bent a little, lowering his voice to match the gravity of the question. “Not before dark.”

The boy considered this reply. Darcy straightened and waited, hands folded behind his back, as though his admission to the house depended entirely upon the judgement of the child before him.