SIXTEEN
Bath, September 1812
Elizabeth
"I am afraid Darcy sends his deepest apologies, but he will be unable to call today."
Elizabeth's heart sank. She had been bracing herself all morning for this moment—for seeing Mr. Darcy again after yesterday's revelations, after reading his letter deep into the night until her candle had guttered and her eyes burned with exhaustion and tears.
And now he was not coming.
Her first thought was irrational and immediate:He is avoiding me. He hates my actions. He does not wish to see me again.
Mr. Bingley stood in the parlor of number fourteen Camden Place, his usually cheerful countenance dimmed by obvious concern. Jane had risen from her seat, her hand pressed to her chest.
"Is something wrong?" Jane asked. "Is Mr. Darcy unwell?"
"No, no—nothing like that. It is his friend, Mr. Hewitt. The elderly gentleman he has been walking with each morning?" Bingley looked troubled. "His condition worsened considerably during the night. The local physician said he required treatment beyond what Bath can provide. Darcy left before dawn to takehim to Bristol—there is a hospital there with a physician who specializes in disorders of the heart."
Elizabeth felt her anxiety transform into something else entirely. Not avoidance, then. Not anger or disgust at her accusations. Simply a friend in desperate need.
"Bristol?" Mrs. Gardiner said. "That is a considerable distance."
"Nearly fifteen miles," Mr. Bingley confirmed. "Darcy insisted on using his own carriage rather than wait for the mail coach. He wanted to accompany Mr. Hewitt personally to ensure he received proper care."
"How ill is the gentleman?" Mr. Gardiner asked, setting aside his newspaper.
"Quite ill, I am afraid. His heart is very weak. Darcy has been quite worried about him these past days." Bingley's expression was somber. "He left me a note before I woke that he would return as soon as he was able, but he could not say when that might be."
Elizabeth's chest tightened. Tomorrow morning they would leave Bath. Return to London briefly, then to Hertfordshire. And Mr. Darcy was in Bristol, fifteen miles away, tending to a sick friend.
"Will you take some tea, Mr. Bingley?" Mrs. Gardiner asked. "You must not have had time for breakfast if you came directly here."
"That is very kind, but I had breakfast before I left. I wanted to deliver Darcy's message as soon as possible." He glanced at Elizabeth, and she had the uncomfortable sense that he wanted her to know Darcy’s message personally.
"How kind of Mr. Darcy to think of us when he must be so distressed about his friend," Jane said softly.
"He was quite particular about it," Bingley said. "Made me promise I would call and explain his absence. He did not wish you to think—" He stopped, seeming to realize he was revealing too much.
"To think what, Mr. Bingley?" Elizabeth heard herself ask.
Bingley looked at her with surprising directness. "I believe he did not wish you to think he was avoiding his promise to call today."
The words hung in the air. Elizabeth felt her cheeks warm.
"Of course not," she managed. "We would not presume Mr. Darcy owes us anything. His friend must take priority."
"Still, it is unfortunate timing." Mr. Gardiner folded his newspaper. "We depart tomorrow morning, as you know. Early, to make good time to London."
"Yes, Darcy mentioned that in his note." Bingley's face brightened slightly. "Which is why I wanted to assure you all that I will be there to see you off. And—" He looked at Jane, his expression turning almost shy. "And I hope to follow you to Hertfordshire very soon. Within the month, if I can manage it. There are some important matters I need to attend to there."
Jane's cheeks flushed pink. Her eyes met Mr. Bingley's, and something passed between them that made Elizabeth look away, feeling suddenly like an intruder.
"Longbourn would be delighted to see you, Mr. Bingley," Mrs. Gardiner said warmly. "I am certain Mrs. Bennet will be pleased to receive you."
"I hope so." Bingley's smile was genuine now. "I have some things to discuss with Mr. Bennet. Things that cannot wait much longer."
Jane's blush deepened. Elizabeth felt a pang of happiness for her sister mixed with a curious ache she could not quite name.
