Mrs Nicholls, Netherfield’s trustworthy housekeeper, came to her aid and ordered a maid to support the lady’s middle. Between them, they carried Miss Bingley to a sofa and waved smelling salts under her nose. The lady revived uncommonly fast and was on her feet to see to her brother in a mere moment.
Elizabeth followed, both out of curiosity and the need to find her sister. Miss Bingley wasted no time in entering her brother’s bedchamber.
“Let go of my brother this instant!” she cried and glared at Jane.
“I cannot before Mr Bingley releases my hand. He is gripping it rather ferociously,” Jane replied calmly.
“This is highly improper!” Miss Bingley argued, but Jane appeared as serene as ever, and from what Elizabeth perceived, Mr Bingley was tightening his grip.
“It cannot be improper to bring a modicum of comfort to an injured gentleman,” Jane retorted in her usual soothing voice, without removing her gaze from Mr Bingley’s tormented features. She was perpetually cool in temper and civil in her demeanour—a trait that vexed Miss Bingley exceedingly and sent her pacing, back and forth, across the room, with no care for her recent fainting spell.
“Then we shall remove ourselves. Mrs Nicholls, order all the servants to begin packing and prepare to close up the house.”
She glared at Jane, who was still holding Mr Bingley’s hand, and Elizabeth observed with relief that some colour had returned to the gentleman’s face.
“That is out of the question. Bingley cannot be moved,” Mr Darcy stated firmly, demonstrating more sympathy for his friend’s injury than Elizabeth would have deemed him capable of possessing.
“He will receive much better care in town than in this rustic village. I insist!” Miss Bingley was not one to give in easily. She was frowning at Jane, who did not notice.
“To suffer twenty miles in a carriage would be insupportable with this kind of injury,” Mr Darcy argued.
“What exactly is his injury? I understand that there is no concern for any broken bones.”
Mr Darcy flushed beetroot red at Miss Bingley’s innocent query. It was amusing to watch him flounder to form words with his mouth agape.
“It appeared to me that his jewels took the brunt of the fall. He will be in much pain for the foreseeable future,” Elizabeth remarked wryly, attempting to curb the giggles threatening to erupt.
Miss Bingley regarded her bemusedly, but Mr Darcy was positively scowling at her.
“What?”
Receiving no reply from the gentleman but for a deepening frown, Elizabeth felt it necessary to explain herself. “I may not have any brothers myself, but my friend, Miss Lucas, is blessed with five. I cannot imagine that your exalted personages participated in any, let us say, tree climbing in your youth. I am quite convinced you all sat primly in your schoolrooms, practising your Latin, while we bucolic children engaged in hoydenish, boisterous pursuits. I dare say there were on occasions some mishaps, but I did learn that certain parts of the male body are exceedingly sensitive and should never be kicked. At least not on purpose…”
Mr Bingley must be recovering because Elizabeth was certain she heard a low snigger emanating from his bed, which he tried to cover with a moan. Jane brushed away a strand of hair from his forehead and laid her hand on it.
“At least there is no fever yet,” she mumbled. “Perhaps you should move your quarrel to the parlour and leave the patient to rest.”
Her gentle admonishment stirred Mr Darcy from his stupor, and he immediately strode from the room. Of course, Miss Bingley followed, continuing her bickering with the gentleman.
“Surely you must see that remaining in this insipid neighbourhood would be detrimental to Charles’s prospects.”
“I know nothing of the kind,” came the clipped reply from Mr Darcy.
“You cannot be ignorant of the inconsequence and yet the self-importance of these people—”
“I would not continue in this vein if I were you. You had the Marquis of Limerick on your left at the Lucases’ dinner. It baffled me as to why you seemed disinclined to speak to him.”
“A marquis! That old man?”
“Yes. Even peers grow old eventually.”
“But…they all called him Henry!”
“As would you with an intimate friend you had known for decades, Miss Bingley.”
Elizabeth was about to clear her throat when Mr Hurst arrived with the apothecary. The latter examined his patient while the rest of the party were served tea in the drawing room. Soon, the Bennet ladies returned home.
No word about Mr Bingley’s condition reached Longbourn before Christmas was upon them, but the Netherfield party could not have left because Mrs Nicholls still frequented the butcher and various other shops, which indicated that the residents remained. Jane was despondent for lack of news, andMrs Bennet offered to host a dinner, but her daughter declined. If Mr Bingley were still confined to his bed, it would be abominably rude to deprive him of his friends.
