Elizabeth glanced at Mary. Her middle sister would never ask such a thing for herself; the fact that Mary did not immediately cry off was enough to know her mind.
“Of course,” Elizabeth replied. “Though we will likely be very snug.” They would have a light dinner tonight, primarily the food left over from the breakfast, but that was still hours away. Her sisters left her to rest, and closing her eyes at last brought her some relief.
The knock came at his door several hours later, and Darcy sighed before opening it.
“Darcy!” Bingley cried. “I was told something about a lame horse?”
Darcy nodded. “I am so sorry, Bingley,” he said, embarrassed. “I may need to remain here a few days, until we can see whether she improves on her own,” he explained. “I will check on her in the morning and hope she is soon mended. But even if I must remain a little longer, I will take my meals here and make myself scarce. I do not wish to impose.”
Bingley slapped him on the back with a bit more force than Darcy expected. “It is never a problem to put you up, Darcy.” He leaned in. “But I will accept your offer as to the meals and am grateful you intend to host yourself.”
Darcy could not help but chuckle at that. “I will remain as unobtrusive as possible, Bingley. If the horse is not greatly improved in a few days, I will leave her here and head northwithout her. I can always pick her up on the way back from London at the end of the season.”
“Do you intend to participate this year, then?” Bingley appeared more surprised by this than he had been to find Darcy still in residence.
“Why would I not?”
“No reason. You just seemed in such a hurry to leave for Pemberley.”
“Yes, I was hoping to avoid the very predicament I now find myself in,” Darcy said drily, and Bingley laughed.
“Fair enough. You shall have to join us for the theatre and for dinner when we are in town. I know Jane is anxious to become better acquainted with you and all my friends. Her sister will be with us for part of the season, I believe, so you will have your verbal sparring partner to make it interesting.”
No need to inquire which sister that would be. He began to wonder whether he would be able to regroup and approach Elizabeth in London. “It would be a pleasure, Bingley.”
“Good fellow. And Hurst and I mean to get Caroline married off this season as well, so we will need your help.”
Darcy’s expression must have been comical, for Bingley bent over with laughter.
“You do not think I mean you, Darcy?” He wiped his eyes. “I cannot think of anything more likely to lose me your friendship. Can you imagine? Perhaps I ought to have her compromise you in the library since that is where we most often find you.” He caught his breath. “Well, not here at Netherfield, I grant you. The library is on the small side for you.”
“It would not matter what you did,” Darcy grumbled good-naturedly. “I will never marry your sister.”
Bingley tipped his head to one side, a little like Darcy’s favourite hunting dog when he caught a scent. “Hmm” was all he said. “I thank you for the laugh, Darcy, but I really must bereturning to my lovely wife. Enjoy your solitude. I have given orders that you are to have things just as you like them.”
“You are a good friend, Bingley.”
“Thank you.” Bingley smiled slyly at him. “And good day, Darcy.”
Darcy waved him off and smiled as Bingley hurried back to his wife. He picked up his book and then set it down again, looking out into the growing darkness.
Three days later, Darcy was in the stables, speaking to Anders and feeling more than a little impatient.
“I would prefer to give her one more day to recuperate,” the coachman said smoothly, though he shifted from one foot to the other.
“Anders, I have been floating around this house attempting to remain unseen for three days. I am ready to depart.”
“Yes, sir,” Anders said briskly, but he could not keep his disapproval entirely out of the words.
Darcy was tired. He did not, could not, sleep well here. He rode out each day on one of his other horses for the exercise but made sure to ride in the opposite direction of Longbourn. He sequestered himself in his rooms where he read, wrote letters, and ate. He desperately wished to leave for Pemberley, where he could . . .
Where he would read, write letters, and eat.
At least he would not have to keep himself hidden. In point of fact, he might not need to keep himself hidden here anymore, but no one had come to tell him so, and therefore he would continue.
Darcy rubbed his hands together in the cold. It was nearly noon, and he suspected that the Bingleys had taken theirbreakfast and had retired again to their chambers. Shutting oneself away in the daytime was not done in London. Another point for the country, in his opinion.
There was always something to do or someone to see in London. But there was also always someone to comment on what you were doing or with who you were visiting. Sneering, more like. In the country, you met with your neighbours, and there was gossip, to be sure, but you did not live atop one another.
