“Bingley, what is the matter with you?”
“Nothing. Why do you ask?”
“You cannot hold a conversation without smirking at me.”
“I am doing no such thing. Smirking, indeed.”
Darcy frowned. “You are up to something. Please tell me it does not have to do with your sister. Miss Bingley, that is, not the sister you have more recently acquired.”
Bingley laughed aloud at that. “I am only amused that you, of all men, are suggesting I allow nature to take its course.”
His friend found it humorous, but Darcy was deeply chagrined. “Bingley, I . . .”
“You have already apologised, Darcy, and I have accepted. But do not make the mistake of believing I have forfeited the enjoyment of teasing you about it from time to time.”
“When I need it, I presume,” Darcy grumbled.
“Indeed. Now, if you wish to know, I was also considering the look on Caroline’s face when you suddenly appear before her.”
Darcy blanched.
The laughter that erupted from Bingley was not soon dampened, but at last he shook his head. “Do not concern yourself, my friend. I will inform my sister that you are here. Caroline, that is, not Lizzy, who is already aware.”
“Too many sisters, Bingley.”
“Just wait until we have to add the other two still at Longbourn, or when Louisa comes to call. Even your sharp mind will have trouble keeping up.”
Darcy grunted and led his horse away from the soft, wet ground. “None of them will likely give me as much trouble as you.”
“Me?” Bingley exclaimed, “I am the easiest fellow you shall ever meet.”
When they arrived back at Netherfield, Darcy went directly upstairs for a bath and to write some letters. His steward had been expecting him back days ago, but he doubted now that he would return to Pemberley at all before the season began. He would cut his stay in London short and return to Pemberley before planting. He explained the change in his plans and answered a number of outstanding questions.
Dinner was served early in the country, and as soon as his letters were done, Darcy prepared himself for it. He would see Miss Bingley, but he might also see Elizabeth.
“How is Miss Bennet faring?” Darcy asked Scripps as the valet arranged his hair.
“I could not say, sir, but there has been no rushing about for more than some hot soup and tea from the kitchen.” He pressed his lips together. “Kerr had a gown to press, so I suppose that means Miss Bennet will be down for dinner.”
Darcy smiled to himself. Just as he had predicted. “Good, good.”
“Miss Bennet is well thought of by everyone at Netherfield, Mr. Darcy.”
“Not everyone,” Darcy remarked drolly, and felt a painful tug on his hair. “Ow,” he said, complaining. “Do you mind? The hairis attached to my head at present, and I should prefer to keep it there.”
“My apologies, Mr. Darcy,” Scripps replied curtly.
“Scripps,” Darcy said slowly, recalling his misunderstanding with Bingley, “do you think I am the one who does not think well of Miss Bennet? If so, you quite mistake the matter.”
“Indeed, sir?”
“I was speaking of Miss Bingley. She has never thought well of Miss Bennet.”
“Ah,” Scripps said politely. His ministrations eased.
“I think quite highly of Mrs. Bingley’s sister,” Darcy assured Scripps.
“Very good, sir.”
