Page 14 of Honor Requires

“No,” said Darcy. “Some regard an estate chiefly as income, or as consequence. But land has a memory longer than its owner’s life. A man does not truly possess it for himself alone. He holds it in trust—first from those who came before, then for those who must come after.”

Elizabeth’s expression changed—still light but touched now with more thought.

“That is very properly said.”

Mrs. Gardiner smiled. “I daresay your tenants are fortunate in such a landlord, Mr. Darcy.”

He would have set the compliment aside, but Elizabeth’s eyes remained on him, and for once he found he did not dislike being understood.

“I hope only to do my duty,” he said.

“That, sir,” Elizabeth returned, “is an aim to be respected. Though I suspect there are some who make a great deal of duty only because they find pleasure inconvenient.”

He felt the beginning of a smile. “And do you accuse me of such severity?”

“Not yet.”

“Then I am reprieved.”

She chuckled lightly. “For the present.”

The rest of the evening passed with the peculiar swiftness that attends real enjoyment. After dinner they returned to the drawing room, where Georgiana played once more, and Mrs. Gardiner, at Elizabeth’s urging, sang a simple air in a pleasant, unaffected voice. Conversation afterward resumed in little groups. Mr. Gardiner spoke with Darcy near the window about fishing and local conditions along the coast; Georgiana sat beside Elizabeth with an expression of growing attachment; Mrs. Younge contributed when addressed, though without ever fully relaxing into the easy cheer of the others.

Darcy observed it without allowing it to disturb him. Whatever her concerns, they were her own for the present. The evening belonged to brighter things.

At length the hour for departure arrived. Cloaks were called for, farewells exchanged, and the warm intimacy of indoor candlelight gave way to the more formal necessities of leave-taking.

Darcy handed Mrs. Gardiner into the carriage, assisted Georgiana in bidding them goodbye, and then turned at last to Elizabeth.

“Miss Bennet.”

“Mr. Darcy.”

“I hope the evening has not disappointed you.”

Her smile was very near laughter. “Not in the least, sir. Unless you mean to count it a disappointment that Bruno could not attend.”

Darcy placed a hand at his chest and affected a look of relief. “In that case, I must own myself comforted that I was not called upon to play the part of the jack at bowls.”

Miss Bennet laughed merrily. “He will take offense when informed of your indifference.”

“I shall endeavor to bear it.”

She gathered her cloak more closely about her shoulders. The blue silk glimmered once beneath it before disappearing into the shadows of the carriage door.

“We are greatly obliged to you and Miss Darcy,” she said. “It has been a very pleasant evening.”

“The obligation is ours.” And for him, that was no form. He felt it deeply.

Mr. Gardiner offered his thanks; Mrs. Gardiner repeated her hope that the acquaintance would continue; Georgiana secured from Elizabeth a promise that they should meet again soon. Then the carriage rolled away, leaving the street to lamplight and the distant breathing of the sea.

For a few moments neither Darcy nor Georgiana spoke. They stood together just within the doorway of Mill House after the servants had closed the door, both listening perhaps to the retreating sound of wheels.

At last Georgiana looked up at him.

“Well?”

He affected ignorance. “Well, what?”