“You saw,” Toby said.
Darcy glanced between them. “Saw what?”
Thomas gave him a look of deep disappointment. “Mr. Wilson.”
“He is changing tactics,” Toby added grimly.
Darcy nearly smiled despite himself. “Is he?”
“Yes,” Thomas said. “Before, he only talked. Now he listens sometimes.”
“That is worse,” Toby said.
“Much worse.”
Darcy folded his arms. “And you have appointed yourselves judges of his courtship?”
“Someone must,” Thomas replied.
Toby leaned closer. “Lizzy is too polite.”
“That,” Darcy said, “is true.”
“And you are too slow.”
Darcy’s brows lifted. “I beg your pardon?”
Thomas sighed with the full weight of eight years’ experience. “We are doing what we can.”
“Are you?”
The boys exchanged looks.
Darcy’s gaze narrowed. “The misplaced boots. The salted sugar. The unusual seating arrangements.”
Toby turned to Thomas.
Thomas turned to Toby.
Neither spoke.
Darcy nodded slowly. “I see.”
“We had reasons,” Toby said at last.
“I am certain you always do.”
Thomas frowned. “You sound like Mama.”
“That is because your mother is a sensible woman.”
“She caught the sugar swap without delay,” Toby muttered.
“As would any sensible woman.”
Thomas returned to the chief matter with admirable focus. “Mr. Darcy, you must do better.”
Darcy stared. “Do better?”
