Darcy led them in the direction of his own house. “Where have you been? I have looked for you everywhere, and I have lost count of the acquaintances to whom I have sent cards.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because you disappeared. Your sisters have been prodigiously worried.”
Bingley sighed loudly, as though he was the one being inconvenienced. “About me and Miss Jane Bennet?”
Darcy looked at him in surprise.
“I know she is in town,” he admitted. “I saw her at the theatre.”
Darcy shook his head incredulously to hear it confirmed that Bingley had been at Covent Garden the same night as Mrs Bennet.
“They do not need to worry,” Bingley continued. “And neither do you. I have no intention of going anywhere near her.”
“I should hope not! Not after?—”
“I never would! I doubt she has come to town in search of me in any case, but if she has, I cannot be blamed. I gave her no encouragement.”
“You giveeveryoneencouragement. That is precisely the problem.”
Bingley glanced at him guiltily. “Darcy, you cannot keep hauling me over the coals for that.”
“I can, and I will, for as long as you intend to keep repeating the same mistake.”
Bingley whipped his head up to stare at him with wide-eyed consternation. “What?”
“Ho there, Darcy! A quick word, if I might?”
Darcy looked to see who was hailing him and swore to himself upon espying his elderly neighbour, Lord Stewart, hobbling towards him through the trees. He had plenty of acquaintances whom he would happily have taken no notice of at that moment; the viscount was not one of them. He nodded in acknowledgement but then stopped walking, forcing Bingley to do the same. “Who were you intending to meet in Gunter’s?”
Bingley faltered over his reply. “No one in particular.”
“Not Mrs Bennet, then?”
“Why do you ask that?”
“She is inside, waiting for a friend. Please tell me that friend is not you.”
Bingley swallowed. “Gads, Darcy, it is not what it looks like…” He stopped speaking, for Lord Stewart was upon them.
“Well met, Darcy!” Stewart glanced at Bingley. “And…Bilson, is it?”
“Bingley, my lord.”
“Oh yes, very good. Not interrupting, am I?”
“Not at all.” Bingley flicked a quick, sheepish look in Darcy’s direction, then added, “In fact, I was just on my way.” He touched his hat. “My lord. Darcy.”
“Where are you staying that I might find you?” Darcy asked.
“The Pulteney.”
This was clearly not true, for Bingley was a terrible liar and had paused for too long before answering, but he had no choice but to let him go. When Lord Stewart wanted a word, it behoved one to give it to him.
“Take care, Bingley,” he said, enunciating each word forcefully to emphasise his warning. Bingley nodded nervously and walked away. Darcy turned to the viscount. “My lord?”
“I hear I just narrowly missed the pleasure of an introduction to your new flame. I am sorry for it. I should have liked to make her acquaintance.”
