She winced and looked distressed. He longed to take her into his arms and hold her close.
“Mama is doing well, sir. The apothecary is inclined to think she will recover soon.”
No doubt the apothecary had tried to spare her the worst.
“Yes,” he said. “Yes. We must always hope for the best.”
Elizabeth turned her face away, avoiding his gaze, hiding her tears. She was always so strong, perhaps she considered them a sign of weakness.
Where was his presence of mind? The least he could do was offer her his handkerchief. He noticed with mortification that he was still holding her hand. He pressed it once again, let go, and reached for his pocket.
“Miss Elizabeth.”
She stared at the handkerchief in bewilderment.
“No, no, sir. I do not need it.” She stepped away from it as if he had just offered her poison.
He put the offending article away, feeling snubbed.
“I understand that these are very difficult circumstances. We are here to offer our—support.”
He flushed at how close he had come to saying the wrong thing. He had been thinking of ‘condolences’.
Elizabeth took a deep breath. “You are mistaken, sir—”
To his surprise, her sister Jane interrupted her. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy. And Mr. Bingley. How kind of you to come to our assistance.”
Her voice was firm – firmer than he had ever heard it. There was a warning there, too.
He looked from one to the other, trying to work out what was happening. Then it occurred to him that Elizabeth was reluctant to accept his help. After all, he was a single young gentleman, and it was only too easy for such assistance to be misconstrued.
Very probably, Elizabeth meant to send him and Mr. Bingley on their way. She thought they were intruding. It was completely understandable, of course. She was distressed, and she needed time to sort herself out.
Nevertheless, it hurt.
Chapter 4
