“I have been reviewing the crops in the home farm and discussed some possible alterations for the next season with my aunt’s steward. And you?”

“Oh, the usual. I took a walk, wrote a letter to my mother and my sister, helped Charlotte in the kitchen, and then I came here.”

“The kitchen? I didn’t know you were adept at the art of cookery, Miss Bennet,” he said.

“Adept is not the appropriate word, Mr. Darcy. Stumbling or awkward might be better,” she noticed he smiled slightly, “but it is enjoyable and I want to spend time with and be of use to my friend. My father thinks it is a useful skill to learn, and I am inclined to agree with him.”

“Did you cook at Longbourn, then?” he asked.

“Only recently.” She did not want to tell him about her father’s recent about-face in parenting and expose her family more than they already were, but she also wanted to discuss her suspicions with someone sensible. Regardless of her opinion on his personality, she had never thought Mr. Darcy silly. Charlotte could not be trusted not to say anything to Mr. Collins, and that would only be humiliating and possibly disastrous if it was what she suspected. She also admitted to herself that a man’s perspective, and that of someone older than her twenty years, might be helpful, though she could hardly expect Mr. Darcy to be that person. Perhaps Colonel Fitzwilliam would be a good confidante?

After another moment’s hesitation, she noticed Mr. Darcy was looking at her expectantly. “Forgive me, Mr. Darcy, my mind wandered. I meant only that my father has recently added to his daughters’ usual education and cookery is one of those additions.”

“Oh? What sort of additions?” He looked curious now, and she realized she must answer something.

“He has engaged masters for us,” she said simply.

“What sort of masters?” Mr. Darcy seemed determined to continue this conversation.

“Music, drawing, and French.” He nodded his head in approval and she couldn’t resist adding, “And he is tutoring us in literature himself, to improve our minds with extensive reading.” She had meant to tease him about his ideal of the accomplished woman, but her words provoked an unexpected response. Mr. Darcy laughed. Not a loud guffaw and she never saw more than his front teeth, but he most certainly chuckled and shook his head.

“And what sort of books are Mr. Bennet’s daughters reading?” he asked. She couldn’t help but notice that his eyes looked happy, and she wondered at their semi-pleasant conversation.

“Each of us is different. My two youngest sisters are focusing primarily on history, though different periods. My sister Mary is currently reading poetry, and Jane is reading Hamlet.”

“And you?”

“Nothing at the moment, though I just finished a book on war strategies.”

He chuckled again and she smiled in response. Looking up, she saw they had reached the parsonage.