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Miss Bingley’s cheeks flushed red, which was curious.

“I thought Miss Darcy was in town with you,” Miss Elizabeth said.

“No,” Darcy replied, his irritation giving way to confusion. “Why would you think⁠—”

“I believed she was in town,” Miss Bingley interrupted him to say. “I am sorry to have been wrong.” She shifted and grimaced.

Darcy could not help looking at the cushions again. Miss Bingley was not sitting on them, precisely. They were formed in a horseshoe so that her legs rested on them and there was no pressure upon her. . . Oh.

He felt his cheeks flame suddenly, and when Miss Bingley saw as much, her entire face turned the same colour as his cheeks.

Mrs. Gardiner glanced between them and rose. “You have been sitting in company for almost two hours today. Come. I shall help you to your chamber.”

“You need not,” Miss Bingley said, almost desperately. “Miss Elizabeth can⁠—”

“I insist,” Mrs. Gardiner said, and helped Miss Bingley up. She was both gentle and firm, and Miss Bingley did not protest any further.

At the door Miss Bingley paused. Her eyes rested upon Miss Elizabeth and then moved to him. Then she turned without speaking and allowed Mrs. Gardiner to assist her back to her chamber.

He had not meant to embarrass Miss Bingley, though he was certain he had. It was only that he had not expected . . . They had all been remarkably kind not to mention anything, particularly Miss Elizabeth, who was not fond of their guest to begin with and had borne the brunt of Miss Bingley’s complaints.

No man liked to discover he had been judged and found wanting, particularly when he had already admitted some fault in the matter. But had he not been judging those around him in just that way and with less reason?

He had been judging Miss Elizabeth, in the beginning. Then he had been attempting to seek out a flaw, something that would allow him to escape the hold she had on him. In the end, he had realised that while she was not perfect, that there was nothing about her he did not like.

Yes, he had been judging her. But it did not follow that his judgement of her was poor.

He would have said as much but Miss Elizabeth’s attention was all for her work. Darcy did not know what she had concluded from his silence, and he was not at all sure that he wished to.

CHAPTER 11

Elizabeth had just finished arranging Miss Bingley’s pillows for the second time that morning when their guest said, “Miss Elizabeth, would you remain a moment?”

Jane had already gone out into the passage with the empty breakfast tray, and Cora was just bringing in fresh linens. Elizabeth was wanted by her aunt, and so Miss Bingley’s request was therefore inconvenient in the way most of her requests seemed to be.

“Of course,” Elizabeth said, and addressed Cora. “I shall call for you soon.”

The maid withdrew. Elizabeth shut the door and helped Miss Bingley settle in the newly upholstered chair to receive her brother. She was supported by several pillows and her legs were covered with a blanket.

“I spoke badly at the ball,” Miss Bingley said. She pulled at her skirt until the material draped properly.

Elizabeth waited for her to say more, to excuse herself or explain. “Very well,” she said after a moment had passed. “You spoke badly at the ball.”

Miss Bingley shifted an inch and grimaced before continuing. “When I told you Mr. Wickham was not to be trusted, I did so in such a manner that . . . I do dislike the man. I cannot deny it. But I did not relate why in a way that you could accept.”

Elizabeth folded her hands. “You told me that he had used Mr. Darcy ill, but that you did not know any of the details.”

“Yes. And then I said several things about Mr. Wickham’s station in life which were not to the purpose and which I knew would offend you.”

Elizabeth had been offended. She waited.

“I am not asking you to believe me now merely because I believe you should. But neither would I have you or your family injured by him.”

That, more than the apology, caught Elizabeth’s attention. Miss Bingley continued, “Therefore if you cannot accept my word, you should ask Mr. Darcy, or even request that your uncle do so. Mr. Wickham can be a rather charming man from what I have seen, but that charm is not always genuine.”

Elizabeth remained sceptical. “That does not sound materially different from what you told me before.”

Miss Bingley huffed. “I am attempting to help you for the sake of your uncle and aunt who have been kind to me, and because if my brother insists on marrying your sister, your family will be connected to mine. Do not make me regret speaking.”