Page 34 of The Lost Prophecy

“I believe it has formed an attachment to you,” he murmured.

“I have always inspired strong feelings in tableware.”

“Is that a common accomplishment in Hertfordshire?” he asked.

“Only among the better silver. Pewter remains unmoved.”

His laugh was quiet and brief, but it softened the severity of his face. Elizabeth felt her own smile answer before she remembered that nothing about the situation deserved encouragement.

Mr Darcy extended both hands. “May I relieve you of it?”

The bowl rolled its rim away from him.

Elizabeth tightened her arms to prevent it falling. “I fear it does not approve.”

“It has not approved of me since I prevented it from entering your chamber.”

“You prevented it?”

“Shortly before dawn.” His hands were outstretched, although his gaze had moved to her face. “It was advancing on your door with purpose.”

Elizabeth glanced down at the bowl. “You see? It came to bid me farewell.”

“It was carrying a fruit knife.”

Her head lifted in surprise.

Mr Darcy’s expression was perfectly composed. “Fletcher believes the knife became attached through magnetism.”

“Do you?”

“No.”

“Am I in danger?”

“No.”

The single word disturbed her more than a clever explanation might have done. Mr Darcy closed the remaining distance and carefully placed one hand under the bowl. His fingers brushed hers, cold even through her gloves. The vessel resisted him for an instant, then transferred itself into his arms with a resentful clang.

He removed the novel and tucked it under his arm. The bowl turned within his grasp until its rim faced Elizabeth.

“You are making this unnecessarily affecting,” she told it.

“It has a talent for moral coercion.” Mr Darcy secured it against his coat when it leaned to her. “Did you enjoy the book?”

“Very much. Its preternatural events seemed quite alarming when I started it.”

“And now?”

Elizabeth glanced at the object attempting to escape his hold. “The haunted castle would be greatly improved by aggressive crockery.”

“I apologise for damaging your literary standards.”

“I may never fear a ghost again unless it brings its own serving dishes.”

His amusement lingered, but concern returned to his eyes as he studied her. “You will take care on the journey?”

“It is only three miles, Mr Darcy.”