Page 32 of The Engagement at Longbourn

“You might do that more often,” Elizabeth said to her father.

Mr. Bennet looked at her.

She held his gaze.

“Yes,” he said after a moment. “I might.”

He went back to the library, but his door remained open.

Darcy said nothing.

Elizabeth looked at him. “You are thinking very loudly.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“No, you do not.”

He almost denied it, then changed his mind. “I had judged him indulgent.”

“He is.”

“And you agree?”

“I love my father. That does not require me to pretend his habits are perfect.”

Darcy was quiet. Elizabeth closed her book around one finger. “Is that difficult for you?”

“To see faults in people I love?”

“To say them aloud.” He thought of Georgiana. Of his father. Of Wickham.

“Yes.” Elizabeth nodded as though he had given the correct answer to a difficult question. That evening, Darcy found himself looking forward to breakfast.

The realization alarmed him.

CHAPTER TWELVE

A Confidence Given

Snow came in earnest in the first week of December.

It softened Longbourn’s lawns and settled on the yew hedges, muffling the world beyond the windows. Darcy’s leg had healed sufficiently that Dr. Morrison no longer feared immediate danger, though he remained forbidden to bear weight upon it.

The confinement wore upon him.

Elizabeth noticed. “You are glaring at the snow.”

Darcy sat near the library window, a ledger open on his lap. “I am not glaring.”

“You have been looking at the same patch of garden for five minutes as if it owes you money.”

“I would prefer to be outside.”

“So would I.”

“You may go.”

She gave him a look. “Thank you for the permission.”