"No."
Mr Bennet considered this.
"I do not care how rich he is," he said at last. "Or how handsome, before you rush to his defence on that score as well. He does not get to have his own way simply because he wants something very badly."
Elizabeth laughed. "I assure you I have no intention of defending his handsomeness to my father."
"A great relief."
"Nor has Mr Darcy ever expected me to agree with him."
"That is useful because you rarely agree with anyone."
"Exactly."
They walked a little further. Mr Bennet glanced sideways at her. "You are annoyed with him."
"I am."
"Good."
Elizabeth looked surprised. "Good?"
"Very good. Any man who acquires the habit of taking liberties deserves to be made uncomfortable."
She shook her head.
"It was not a liberty."
"No?"
"It was..." She stopped herself.
Mr Bennet waited.
"It was foolish," she finished.
"Ah."
That answer worried him rather more than the alternative.
???
Later that afternoon, after most of the party were resting after an abundance of fresh air and Mrs Makepeace’s hearty fare, Mr Bennet found Mrs Bennet sat at the shore.
He watched her smile at a group of children whose mighty sand edifice was now being slowly crumbled by lapping waves. Their shrieks of delight and horror caused his wife to shake her head indulgently. Wasn’t it simpler when their girls had been that age? Without suitors or uncertainty or the complexities of adult life to stumble over. He walked over to join her.
"I have been looking for you," he said.
Mrs Bennet glanced up. "Have you?"
"Not very diligently."
"That sounds more like you."
He sat beside her and for a few moments they watched the sea in silence. Once such a silence would have been impossible. Mrs Bennet had always regarded silence as a temporary condition requiring immediate correction. She seemed perfectly comfortable with it now. The change still had the power to catch him unawares.
"You have made a friend of the sea."
