Page 129 of A Question of Character

Her amusement faded into something gentler.

“I am glad.”

“So am I.”

She touched one of the roses with a fingertip.

“It feels strange.”

“What does?”

“Yesterday we were disagreeing over Mr. Wickham.”

“We still are.”

“True.”

“And today...”

She looked back toward the others.

“...today we are courting.”

“There is no contradiction.”

“No?”

“My regard for you is independent of my opinion of George Wickham.”

“I am not certain mine can remain wholly independent.”

The honesty stung.

Darcy accepted it because he preferred honesty to comfort.

She continued. “I know you are keeping something from me.”

He held her gaze.

“I am.”

“I thought so.”

“It is not because I doubt you.”

“I know.”

“I would tell you here if I could.”

Elizabeth glanced toward her mother, who had begun explaining to Bingley precisely why Netherfield’s poultry must be improved.

“We are hardly private.”

“No.”

He hesitated a moment.

“Would you walk with me in the garden?”