Fitzwilliam ceased talking when the door was pulled violently open. Mrs Sinclair, Jane, Georgiana and he all looked at Darcy as he exited the antechamber.
Darcy looked at him. “Get him out.”
He nodded, but it was his grandmother who spoke.
“Oh, you have not killed him then? How disappointing. Young men nowadays never seem to want to do anything properly.”
“Have at him,” Darcy replied. “I have better things to do.” He turned, offering Georgiana his arm. “Come. There is somebody I should like you to meet.” He left without a backward glance at either of the Bingleys.
Fitzwilliam turned to do Darcy’s bidding, only to discover thatJane had anticipated him. He made to stop her, but Mrs Sinclair laid a hand on his arm. “ThisI should like to see.”
He grinned by way of assent and leant against the outside of the open door to observe how the encounter would go.
“Good day, Charles,” Jane began.
“You are bleeding!” he replied.
Mrs Sinclair shook her head and muttered that he was an imbecile.
“Oh, no,” Mrs Bingley explained, “that is not mine. I helped Lizzy birth her baby…but you are hurt.” She knelt before her husband and peered at his rapidly closing black eye.
“I cannot believe you care.”
“I have never stopped caring.”
“I am a fool for never seeing it.”
“I am a fool for never showing it.”
“They are both fools. Hallelujah!” Mrs Sinclair huffed impatiently. “We could have told them that a year ago and saved ourselves all this bother.”
“How better could you have shown it than by coming here?” Bingley said.
“I wished to stop you going away with…” Mrs Bingley succumbed to a few sobs before choking out, “with Miss Greening.”
“Who the devil is Miss Greening?” Fitzwilliam hissed to his grandmother.
“The maid from Netherfield with a likeness to Lizzy. The dolt got a child on her.”
Fitzwilliam shook his head in disgust. There truly was no end to Bingley’s blundering.
“I never planned to go anywhere with her,” the idiot prattled on. “I meant to send her away to prevent her ever coming between us.”
“Ah, now I see!” Noticing his grandmother’s querying look, Fitzwilliam explained, “Long story, but this means Darcy will no longer have to kill Ashby.”
“I am quite sure your brother did nothing to deserve such a reprieve,” she retorted and returned to watching the simpering ninnies beyond the door.
“I wrote to you in London to tell you I would be back this week,” Bingley informed his wife.
“I was not in London. I was at Netherfield.”
“Speaking of letters,” Mrs Sinclair said quietly, “did you ever get mine? All Lizzy’s seemed to go astray.”
“I did.” He grinned at a sudden thought. “Though not ’til after Darcy found a most enlightening one from Bingley.” Leaning close to his grandmother, he whispered the Bennet Ballad into her vastly appreciative ear.
“Why did you come back here?” Jane enquired.
Fitzwilliam reached the line about Mary Bennet’s chastity, and Mrs Sinclair sniggered.
