Bingley’s countenance creased as he thought. “You spoke of your behaviour last autumn. I reminded you that your behaviourwas notherfault any more than my decision to remain in London was yours. I was speaking of the way you insulted Elizabeth at the assembly and again in your conversations with Louisa and Caroline when you said something about the Bennet daughters not marrying well.” He snickered. “You were wrong there, but I think I may be forgiven for assuming you meant mynewsister.”
Darcy dropped his head in his hands. “And Miss Bennet will also wonder why I hid myself away.”
Bingley shrugged, evidently enjoying himself. “Yes, most likely. Although she is an intelligent woman. She may already have worked it out.”
Worse and worse. “This is a disaster.” But no, there was hope. Miss Bennet had agreed to speak with him once she was feeling better. She had been entirely lucid when she said it. And they had shared a friendly, teasing sort of conversation, despite the unusual circumstances.
“One thing I have learned,” Bingley said, crossing his arms over his chest and staring into the fire, “is that the two eldest Bennet sisters are quite forgiving.”
“Beg pardon, Bingley,” Darcy said, returning the earlier jest, “but I believe you are married to the forgiving Bennet sister.” Not that he deserved to be forgiven.
“No,” Bingley said carefully. “Lizzy was quite angry with me when I returned, though she did not allow her sister to see it. Can you imagine if a man had treated your sister with special notice, speaking with her almost exclusively when in company with others, dancing with her twice at his own ball, and then decamping for London nearly immediately after? Leaving her to the tattling tongues of the town gossips and a disappointed mother?”
Darcy winced. “No, I cannot.” He knew, of course, that Jane Bennet had been hurt by Bingley’s departure. It was one of thethings he had felt must be remedied, but he had feared making things worse, and had thus waited until he could accompany Bingley back to Netherfield himself.
“Well, she did. She held the grudge only until I was accepted again by my wife. Once Jane was happy, so was Elizabeth.” He stared into the fire.
Darcy had been cautious when relating his plan to Bingley. Miss Jane Bennet might not have the same feelings for his friend as she once had, but Bingley was determined to find out once and for all. When Darcy understood that Jane Bennet still loved Bingley and would forgive him, he had left Netherfield to allow his friend to court in peace.
He had not put the knocker up on the door in London, as he had wished for privacy to work through his feelings. It was difficult to accept that his admiration and affection were not returned. If only she had been able to remain at Pemberley for a few more days! Everything then might have been different. He might even have had some standing to force Lydia Bennet home.
During those days in London, his aunt Lady Catherine de Bourgh had called, but had left in a huff when the servants informed her that Darcy was not at home. The letter she had left for him had begun with vitriol, and he had not read the rest, but tossed it immediately into the fire.
It was unlike him. He had always been very patient with his aunt, for his mother had loved her. But he was worn out, all his reserves depleted. Loving Elizabeth without having gained, without havingearnedher love in return had been—was—a terrible burden to bear.
“You are quiet, Darcy, even for you.” Bingley nudged him with an elbow. “Are you asleep?”
Darcy scoffed. “Would I ever fall asleep in front of a fire rather than in my bed, Bingley?”
His friend laughed. “Most of us have, at one time or another, you know. When you are in your own chambers, you may do as you like.”
“Servants talk, Bingley. I am never alone, not even in my own chambers.”
Bingley leaned forward, his forearms on his thighs, his hands clasped before him. “That sounds exhausting.”
Darcy cast his eyes upward. “It is.”
“Perhaps you ought to learn to shave yourself and tie your own cravat.”
It surprised a laugh out of him. Bingley was a good friend. He always knew when to be serious and when Darcy needed to be goaded out of his dark humours. “Perhaps I shall.”
“Because you are my good friend, Darcy, I shall offer you one more evening of reprieve. I will announce that your heroics today have left you quite done in and that you will dine up here. But tomorrow, I expect you to join us, like a gentleman should.”
Darcy sighed and nodded. “Thank you for your forbearance, Bingley. I shall do as you say.”
Bingley appeared a little shocked by Darcy’s easy acquiescence. But Darcy knew that Elizabeth was unlikely to come to dinner tonight—her sister would not allow it after the events of this morning, no matter whether Elizabeth felt recovered or not. And Elizabeth would not worry her sister by insisting. But that would only last so long. Provided there were no lingering ill effects from her misadventure this morning, Miss Elizabeth Bennet would be at dinner tomorrow night.
“Well, Darcy,” Bingley said, standing and tugging the hem of his waistcoat, “I will leave you to it.”
“To what?”
Bingley chuckled. “To whatever it is that you do when you are on your own.”
He nodded, but when his friend reached for the knob, Darcy abruptly recalled why he was still here, “How is your servant? The one who was taken ill?”
Bingley met Darcy’s gaze steadily. “He appears to be doing well enough, but it is too soon to say.”
Chapter Eleven
