Page 25 of The Servants’ Matchmaking

Caroline moved between them with the smooth efficiency of a woman who had been planning her approach for several minutes. "Mr. Darcy, Louisa and I mean to walk towards the rose garden. You promised to advise us about the new planting."

"I made no such promise."

"Then I ask now."

Darcy glanced at Elizabeth — not for rescue, only acknowledgement, a small private look that said I see what this is. "I shall join you after Miss Bennet has returned to the house."

It was courteous, and limited, and Caroline could not object without revealing exactly what she was objecting to.

Elizabeth helped Jane to the bench. Bingley set the forgotten cane beside her and asked, for the eighth time that day, whether she was fatigued.

"A little," Jane admitted.

He immediately proposed returning indoors. Jane immediately protested. Their small dispute was gentle and repetitive. Elizabeth watched them and thought it deeply satisfying to both parties, like a dance they had already learned the steps to.

Darcy stood beside Elizabeth. "Do you still believe accuracy does not require affection?"

"You made that argument."

"I have revised it."

"Upon what evidence?"

He looked towards Bingley and Jane, at Bingley's cane forgotten again, at Jane's patient smile. "Sustained attention."

Elizabeth remembered her own claim in the library, tossed off so easily at the time. "You concede too easily."

"I conceded after observation. That should please you."

"It does. I would simply rather not reward you for it."

"Then I shall survive without praise."

Caroline called his name from the path, two sharp syllables. Darcy excused himself and joined her, unhurried. Elizabeth watched him go. He had kept his promise to Caroline only after making entirely clear what came first. No rescue required. No insult offered. Just fairness, plain and unadorned. He does exactly what he says he will do, no more, no less. It is a strange thing to find so disarming.

Sarah stood at the terrace door with Jane's medicine. When Elizabeth approached, the maid's gaze flicked towards Darcy and Caroline on the path.

"Do not."

"I did not speak, miss."

"Your silence has become crowded."

Sarah lowered her eyes, though her mouth twitched. "Yes, miss."

Inside, Jane admitted fatigue at last and allowed Bingley to settle her near the fire with more cushions than any one invalid strictly required. She rested with her eyes closed while Elizabeth returned to her sewing. The seam was crooked — properly crooked, unmistakably so — and Elizabeth unpicked it rather than pretend otherwise.

A little later, Jane opened her eyes and asked to go upstairs. Elizabeth rose to help her.

"Until tomorrow, Mr. Darcy."

"Until tomorrow."

Upstairs, she settled Jane in bed, laid the blue shawl at her feet, and faced the uncomfortable conviction that tomorrow mattered rather more than it had any right to.

Darcy had not proposed again. He had done something far more persuasive.

He had listened.