Page 141 of The Crown’s Gift

The words startled them both.

Sir Thomas looked down at his hands. "I arrived very late for that as well."

"You arrived."

The same mercy Darcy had once offered was returned after years of proof.

Inside, Elizabeth began playing Mary's Two Houses. Lady Bennet called for them to come in before the air became damp.

They obeyed.

* * *

The Royal Oak School held a harvest supper every October.

Long tables filled the main room. Tenant families brought bread, apples, cheeses, pies, and enough preserves to survive a siege. The children displayed copybooks and sums. Kitty arranged drawings along one wall. Mary selected two pupils to perform a duet. Lydia, visiting while Captain Carter's ship was under repair, organized games in the yard and denied making them competitive.

Sir Thomas attended from an armchair near the hearth. Age had shortened his walks, but not his interest. He knew which pupil had struggled with figures, whose father was ill, and which teacher wished to add lessons in geography.

Anne Darcy, fourteen, had come from Pemberley with Elizabeth and Darcy. She spent the morning examining estate maps with Kitty and the afternoon helping younger pupils read.

George, nine, regarded the school as proof that his grandfather invented education. Eleanor, eleven, knew better and did not correct him unless necessary.

At supper, a boy named Matthew Bell sat at the end of Anne's table. He was eight, freckled, and determined to eat an apple tart before Lydia began announcing winners in the yard.

Anne heard the scrape of his chair.

She looked up.

Matthew stood with both hands at his throat. His mouth opened. No sound came.

For one instant, everyone near him misunderstood. A woman offered water. Another child laughed, thinking he made a face.

Anne saw his eyes.

She had seen that expression only in Sir Thomas's demonstrations. Every Bennet grandchild had been taught what to do if food blocked a throat. Lady Bennet disliked the lessons and attended all of them.

Anne moved behind Matthew, wrapped her arms around him, braced her hands beneath his ribs, and pulled hard upward as Sir Thomas had taught her.

Nothing happened.

The room began to shout.

"Again," Sir Thomas called from across the tables. His voice cut through panic. "Harder, Anne."

She pulled again.

A piece of apple flew onto the table.

Matthew coughed and drew a sobbing breath.

Anne held him until his knees steadied. The boy's mother reached them, crying and kissing both children. Darcy crossed the room but stopped when he saw Anne safe. Elizabeth's hand closed around his.

Sir Thomas remained in his chair, suddenly pale.

For a moment the schoolroom in front of him became the Meryton assembly rooms: the King's darkening face, the guards, steel at his throat, air returning with a ragged sound.

Then Matthew began to cry loudly, beautifully, and the past released him.