Oh, dear. Could it be tainted or rotten food?He wondered if his brother and sisters were similarly afflicted. Or…perhaps he was ill. He really hated the idea of being ill, and he had a sudden notion that some man would move into the neighbourhood and sweep his sweet Jane off her feet before….Before Darcy allows me to speak to her of my feelings! That…cannot stand! I am…my own man!
Bingley rang for his valet, who arrived with a glass of cool well water, a cup of strong coffee, and soothing words about over-indulgence in brandy.
Bingley sat up sharply. “I did not drink much at all last night!” he declared.
“Of course not, sir,” Martin said. “However, when Tucker and Carlton carried you upstairs, they said that your sister said you had been drinking brandy before you collapsed.”
“Carried me up? Collapsed? When did all of this happen, I wish to know?”
“Last night, sir. Quite late, sir.”
Bingley tried to think despite his headache. If he could recall when he came up, and whether or not he had rung for help getting into his sleep clothes….
He could not remember, and with horror he realised that he must have drunk far more than he had thought.
He took the glass of water, downed it, and took the cup of coffee. He needed to get over the horrible sensations in his belly?—
Martin stepped closer again and said, “Let me help you, sir…” in a soothing voice.
When Bingley feltup to the task of facing his family and guest, he made his way to the stairs. Darcy was pacing at the foot of the stairs, looking quite impatient, and Bingley breathed deeply, wondering if some additional upsetting news had arrived.
Darcy looked sharply at him as Bingley took the last step down. “Are you well?” he asked in a low voice, as if he did not wish to be overheard.
Bingley grinned and said, “I woke up feeling perfectly awful, so I would not say that I amwell, exactly, but I am doing better, thanks to the ministrations of my valet.”
“Good. Let us repair to your study.” Darcy led the way, then closed and locked the door. He stared at Bingley for a few seconds and then asked, “Do you remember what happened last night?”
“I remember some things. Caroline was upset that you retired so early, and I told her that you had had a trying day.”
Unease flickered across his friend’s face. “Did you tell her of yesterday’s events?”
“No. I felt I did not understand, myself, exactly what had happened, and so I should not be the one to decide who to tell what.”
“Good man,” Darcy said. He gently clapped him on the shoulder, and Bingley felt the praise warm him.
“What has me vexed,” Bingley said, “is that I was barely sipping the brandy that Caroline gave me, but I woke up completely fuddled.”
Darcy said, “Jameson told me that the servants all believe that you drank enough brandy to black out, and two footmen had to carry you upstairs. He knows I despise gossip but would care if something had happened to you, and so he spoke with both of the footmen who carried you, and they reported as fact, seen with their own eyes, that the brandy bottle in your study was empty, and you were sprawled out on the settee, completely insensible and smelling of brandy. Your sister was there, and she seemed upset, and she said you must have drank yourself into that state.”
“From what I remember, I had one glass of brandy, and I just sipped from it. I never got even a single refill.”
“Maybe your sister was distracting your attention and then filling up your glass, so you would not realise how much you drank.”
“My goodness, how devious do you think my sister is?” Bingley laughed. “In truth, Darcy, she was sitting with me, her head on my shoulder as we used to sit as children, and I certainly would have seen her if she kept getting up and down, filling up my glass.”
“Unless she had brought the bottle to wherever you were sitting. I have no idea, of course, Charles—you certainly can ignore what I have suggested, since you were there and I was not. But…pardon me for saying this, but I do believe she could be devious, if she wished to be, if it suited her purpose somehow.”
Bingley felt a jolt of anger that was, perhaps unwarranted. He said slowly, considering every word, “Thank you forremembering that you have no way of knowing what happened between my sister and me, last night, since you were already in bed and, likely, asleep. But…I cannot thank you for your unkind opinion of my sister. I know she can be unpleasant. However, I find it difficult to believe she would have any reason to urge me to overindulge in drink. It seems completely counter to her betterment.”
“Well, my own thought has to do with something that happened at around midnight—someone tried to enter my bedchamber.”
“What!?” Charles said, “You looked awful last night, and you drank an entire glass of brandy in just a few seconds. I am certain you are mistaken about this would-be midnight visitor. As a matter of fact, I imagine it was a dream.”
“My valet has been sleeping on a cot in my room every night since your sister arrived. He heard it, too—a metallic thud coming from the door, and then the rattle of wood-on-wood. Jameson sprang up off the cot at the same moment that I jumped out of bed.”
“What are you saying, Darcy? Do you suspect that my sister got me drunk so she could bother you in your chambers, and the compromise would force you to break up with Miss Elizabeth and instead marry her?”
“I do not truly suspect that exact scenario, Bingley, largely because I think she knows I would never marry her, even if there was damning evidence of a compromise.”
