Page 180 of A Question of Character

She shook her head, though pleasure plainly accompanied the gesture.

Mr. Bennet watched the exchange over the edge of his book.

“Hm.”

“What is it, Papa?” Elizabeth asked.

“I was merely wondering whether either of you intends to say anything practical.”

Darcy answered with uncommon solemnity.

“I confess, sir, that was not my present object.”

Mr. Bennet snorted behind the volume.

Elizabeth covered a laugh with suspicious haste.

The September afternoon carried the first promise of autumn.

Leaves had started exchanging brilliant green for muted gold, though summer still lingered stubbornly in the hedgerows.

Elizabeth drew a fallen maple leaf between her gloved fingers.

“I believe the season changes too quickly.”

“It has scarcely begun.”

“Exactly.”

She smiled.

“I should prefer autumn to ask permission before arriving.”

“I suspect it possesses little regard for our preferences.”

“No more than you do.”

He accepted the rebuke with a rueful expression.

“I deserve that.”

“You do.”

They continued another dozen yards.

Elizabeth broke the silence first.

“You have avoided one subject for weeks.”

“I know.”

“I promised not to force it.”

“And I was grateful.”

She stopped beside a weathered gate overlooking pastureland.

A pair of sheep grazed lazily below them.