Page 20 of The Servants’ Matchmaking

"The weather was accurate. It was only the timing that was poor."

"McKeever accepts no responsibility whatsoever for clouds. He was quite firm on the point."

Her mouth curved. Not forgiveness exactly, and not encouragement either, but something gentler than both. Something Darcy had not dared hope for that morning.

"I accept your apology. I cannot promise more than that."

"I ask no more."

It was necessity, rather than perfect honesty, that kept his answer so modest. He found he meant it anyway, or was learning to.

Darcy bowed and left her with her sister. In the corridor, McKeever waited with a letter from Pemberley held out ready. Sarah passed him carrying an empty vase, her chin high, her face composed. They did not speak. They exchanged exactly one glance, brief, unreadable to anyone who had not spent the last two days watching for it.

Darcy knew an arrangement when he saw one.

This time, he let it pass without a word.

CHAPTER 5

Elizabeth

Darcy's apology made dislike inconvenient. Elizabeth had relied on dislike because it simplified him. A proud man could be dismissed with a shrug and a clever line at supper. A proud man who examined his own conduct and then corrected it required further thought, and further thought was rarely restful. It kept a person up past the point where the candle ought to have been snuffed.

Jane sat near the fire, wrapped in a white shawl and pretending not to tire. Bingley had left five minutes earlier after a visit of twenty. He had asked after her health seven times. Jane had answered each question as though it were the first, patient as a woman counting stitches.

"He is very attentive."

Jane arranged the edge of the shawl, smoothing a fold that did not need smoothing. "Mr. Bingley is kind to everyone."

"Not everyone receives white roses from the greenhouse."

"The red ones are too strong for a sickroom."

"You have considered the matter deeply."

Jane smiled. It was that small, private smile she wore when she knew exactly what she was doing and meant to keep doing it. "No more deeply than you have considered Mr. Darcy's apology."

Elizabeth looked at her book. She had held it open at the same page since breakfast, and the words had long since stopped meaning anything.

"An apology deserves consideration."

"Three hours?"

"His was unusually long."

"It was four sentences."

"You were counting."

"You taught me."

Sarah entered with a folded length of muslin, her steps quick and light on the boards. She had repaired a tear in Jane's sleeve and made the work so neat it was nearly invisible. You would have needed a candle and good eyes to find the seam at all.

Elizabeth set down her book. "Sarah, how much did Mr. McKeever know of Mr. Darcy's intended apology?"

The maid set the muslin down with unnecessary care, as though the linen required all her attention. "I could not say, miss."

"You could. You would simply rather not."