Page 28 of A Selfish Disdain

Elizabeth said nothing to this for a long moment, and found, examining it now, that she could locate in it nothing whatsoever to contradict.

"Then we will wait," she said, "and be patient with each other. Though, I think neither of us has ever been especially good at, and which this whole journey seems determined to teach us regardless of our own inclination."

Reeves knocked and entered the room again a short time later. His head had been restored enough by the fourth day to move around more properly and brought them the news, that evening, that a party had at last been sighted upon the Aylesbury road.

“There’s a carriage travelling with some haste,” he said optimistically. He explained the news had been delivered to Reeves by the innkeeper's own report from a boy sent riding ahead with the intelligence, bearing a coat of arms. The whole small neighbourhood had already been gossiping about the story and how it was connected with the extraordinary story of highwaymen and a wounded gentleman lodged these four days at the Crown.

"It'll be Mr. Bingley, I'd wager," Reeves offered, "or else your uncle's own people, Miss, come to see the thing settled with their own eyes rather than trust it to letters."

Elizabeth crossed to the window with haste, and watched the road below with a heart suddenly less patient, and found herself waiting, entirely unable to keep her own eagerness for whatever came next.

CHAPTER 17

It was Bingley, in the end, who came through the door of the Crown's low-ceilinged chamber with such speed that he very nearly overset Reeves that was kept near the doorway. His countenance was a mixture of relief and alarm, as he first took in the sight of her.

“Elizabeth!” He exclaimed, and walked over to her, holding both her hands in both of his before she had properly walked over from the window she had been looking out. “I could scarcely credit half of it! Jane would have come herself, but she has been forbidden to travel, and I could not bear to wait another day. I drove half the distance myself rather than trust the coachman!”

“Mr. Bingley,” Elizabeth said, managing a smile at his exuberant entrance, “I assure you, I am perfectly well.”

He shook his head and his brows furrowed instantly. “You are not perfectly well! Why, you have been run amuck by felons, and nearly kidnapped!”

Elizabeth could not help but laugh a little at the thought of nearly being kidnapped. “As you can see,” she started, smiling wider now, “I am alive and well, sir.”

His expression softened as he looked at her more closely, the humor giving way to something more solemn. “We were terribly afraid for you.”

Elizabeth's smile faded, and she gave him a sober look. “I know, thank you, Mr. Bingley, for being the very best of brothers.”

He looked somewhat bashful at her praise, and took to changing the subjects with haste. “And your aunt has been beside herself as well. Though, I ought to tell you, your uncle is recovering remarkably. The fever broke, and the physician is now entirely satisfied that he is beyond the point at which we had reason to fear for his life.”

Mr. Bingley himself held the Gardiner family in great esteem, having learned from Jane that it was Mrs. Gardiner who had encouraged his now wife to consider the man as a serious suitor.

Elizabeth drew a breath she had not realized she was holding, “I am very glad to hear it. We had a letter from Mrs. Gardiner not three days ago, and I am very relieved indeed.”

Bingley nodded in confirmation. “I am glad to hear it. Indeed, he is still weak, and exceedingly impatient with everyone who treats him, as we have heard from your aunt, but he is recovering well.”

For a moment, Elizabeth could only smile. The relief she felt was almost overwhelming. Her uncle was safe, and the danger that had hung over her family had begun to recede, even if her own ordeal still felt painfully near and end, with Mr. Bingley’s cheery presence.

Bingley gave her hands another squeeze before finally releasing them. “And now,” he said, glancing across the room towards the bed. “I believe I ought to speak to the other man who has caused me a considerable amount of distress.”

He crossed to where Darcy sat. Bingley noticed that Darcy was still pale and plainly weakened, but he was upright and considerably improved from the condition in which Bingley had supposed him.

Bingley took his friend's hand in a firm grip. “You gave us all a very great fright, Darcy.”

Darcy issued a near scoff. “So I am given to understand, by everyone who has had occasion to tell me so this week.”

However, there was warmth beneath the dryness, and Bingley, who knew him well enough to hear it, returned the grip for another moment. “I do not think I have ever been so glad to see a man's ugly face in the whole of our acquaintance.”

“You flatter me excessively, Bingley.” Darcy continued, “I do not think my face has improved in the telling.”

“No,” Bingley replied, grinning despite himself, “but you are alive to complain of the compliment.”

Darcy's expression sobered somewhat. “I am very much that.”

Bingley narrowed his eyes slightly, chastising him in good humor. “Darcy, you need not look so grave. You are well beyond the danger now. Weak, certainly. In need of rest, unquestionably. But no longer in any serious peril.”

Darcy inclined his head. “That is reassuring.”

“It ought to be.” Bingley smiled. “We have had quite enough of nearly losing people for one season.”