“On both counts?” Fitzwilliam leaned in against the window’s frame for a better look at his cousin’s face.

Darcy turned to him, his lips pursed in a condescending smile. “I heard every word you said, and it was not witty. Amusing? Perhaps, but not anything that would pass for wit.” He lifted his own glass and finished off the contents as he awaited Fitzwilliam’s counter to his thrust.

“Well, I shall be glad, then, to be considered ‘amusing’ according to your exacting taste, Cousin.” Fitzwilliam paused and cocked a knowing brow at him. “But you must admit that you were not devoting your whole attention to me and have not acted yourself today. Anything you care to tell me?”

Darcy glanced uneasily at his cousin, silently cursing his acute powers of observation. He had never been able to hide anything from Richard for long; his cousin knew him far too well. Perhaps the time had come to speak his concerns. Taking a deep breath, Darcy turned back to the warm haven of his library. “I have had several letters from Georgiana in the last month.”

“Georgiana!” Fitzwilliam’s teasing smile faded into concern. “There has been no change, then?”

“On the contrary!” Darcy plunged on to the heart of the matter. “There has been a very marked change, and although I welcome it most gratefully, I do not entirely comprehend it.”

Fitzwilliam straightened. “A marked change, you say? In what way?”

“She has left off her melancholy and begs forgiveness for troubling us all with it. I am instructed — yes, instructed,” Darcy repeated at the disbelieving look Fitzwilliam returned him, “to regard the whole matter no longer, as she does not, save as a lesson learned.” Fitzwilliam uttered an exclamation. “And that is not all! She writes that she has started visiting our tenants as Mother did.”