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down, Mr. Darcy.”
    He took a seat in the big wing chair near the fire and Elizabeth sat opposite. She was having difficulty meeting his gaze and found herself looking down at the floor where she saw a small tea stain on the carpet. As soon as he was gone, she would have Hill clean it up. What a strange thing to notice at this moment, she mused.
    “May I inquire after your father, Miss Bennet?”
    Elizabeth realized he was repeating the question she had been too distracted to answer the first time. As she described her father’s condition, he leaned toward her, listening intently. Suddenly, the words caught in her throat and tears sprang to her eyes. She glanced at him in embarrassment but saw he was looking at her with only kindness and warmth. Darcy reached into his pocket and wordlessly extended his handkerchief.
    “I am so sorry, again, Mr. Darcy. It seems that every time you have seen me recently, I have been in tears. I assure you this is not my usual state.”
    “You have been under an unusual strain these last few days. Next time, however, I will prepare in advance and bring several of those with me,” he said, indicating the handkerchief she now clutched in her hand.
    His comment caught her off guard, and she wondered again why he was being so kind to her.
    “Would you like me to send to London for my personal physician? He could provide another opinion on your father’s condition.”
    Elizabeth was so surprised he would make such an offer that she hardly knew what to say. It would not do to be any more in his debt than was already the case. “Thank you for your kind offer, but I believe everything that can be done for him is being done. The doctor tells us it is just a matter of time. We can only try to make him comfortable.”
    “I am truly sorry to hear that, Miss Elizabeth. It makes me think of my own parents, and how much it grieved me to watch them slip away.”
    Elizabeth was surprised again that Darcy had shared something personal about himself. The only time she could recall his ever speaking of his parents was yesterday in the garden at the inn.
    Darcy rose and began pacing in front of the fireplace. Elizabeth sat in silence, too tired to attempt initiating any conversation. She hoped that maybe if she remained silent, he would leave. Then she remembered—Mr. Darcy had never been uncomfortable with silence.
    As she watched him walk back and forth, she noticed that his boots had obviously been meticulously shined. In fact, she could not think of a time when any aspect of his personal appearance was less than perfect. Her eye went back to the tea stain on the carpet again, but she looked away quickly for fear that if she stared at the spot, it might draw his attention to it. For some reason, she could not bear the thought of his noticing the imperfections of her mother’s housekeeping.
    After what seemed like an hour, he stopped pacing. Thinking he was about to take his leave, she stood to thank him for calling. Much to her embarrassment by the time she was on her feet, he had crossed the room and was standing directly in front of her where they nearly collided. He caught her by the elbows to steady her.
    “Excuse me, sir,” she murmured looking down to avoid his eyes. Although he released her immediately, he did not back away but remained standing a bit closer than she liked. She caught the exotic scent of cloves and other spices and recalled noticing this several other times when he was nearby.
    “Forgive me, Miss Elizabeth, if I speak too plainly, but I am very concerned about how you and your family will manage should your father…” he hesitated, “…not recover. When your cousin inherits Longbourn, you may very well be left in a precarious position. From what I have observed of Mr. Collins, I do not anticipate he will be generous toward you. If we were married, your mother and sisters would benefit from my protection. You would not have to worry about anything.”
    Elizabeth’s cheeks