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Miss Margaret agreed. “We will celebrate it here.”

“That is not what I meant.”

“We will get to eat the pudding,” Miss Eleanor said.

“Pudding,” Master Henry said, rubbing his stomach.

Miss Bingley made a strange little sound. “I all but cut the acquaintance,” she whispered.

This Darcy had not known, and it threw his own behaviour into rather sharp relief.

Fortunately, Bingley had not followed his advice, but that did not change how Darcy felt when he comprehended all that the Gardiners had done.

They had opened their home to a woman who had insulted them and their nieces, who had been injured near their door through no fault of theirs. As a result, they had endured endless complaints, inconvenience, and expense. When Miss Bingley could have returned home but did not wish to injure her dignity, they had simply set aside their own Christmas plans. Not once had they mentioned any of these sacrifices or expected gratitude for providing them.

Their behaviour was more genteel than anyone of Darcy’s acquaintance.

Darcy looked at Miss Bingley’s bowed head and realised that the pair of them must be feeling the same sort of embarrassment. They had each come to Gracechurch Street believing that they were bestowing a favour upon the place with their presence. But it had in fact been the Gardiners and their nieces who had bestowed every favour with humility and grace.

The door opened.

Miss Elizabeth returned carrying a ball of red string. She stopped almost immediately.

“Whatever has happened?”

The children looked guiltily at one another, and Master Henry spoke first. “Lizzy, I told Miss Bingley that Mamma and Papa were supposed to go to Longbourn.”

Miss Elizabeth winced as Miss Bingley’s complexion paled.

“Is that true?” Miss Bingley asked.

Miss Elizabeth did not pretend to misunderstand, only threw a disapproving look at Master Henry. “Yes.”

“Your aunt and uncle changed their plans because I would not travel.”

“Yes.”

“And no one intended to tell me?”

“Would telling you have accomplished anything other than distressing you?” Miss Elizabeth asked.

“I might have—” Miss Bingley stopped.

Darcy knew why. Miss Bingley would never have allowed herself to be seen by the servants or anyone else, in a prone position.

Miss Elizabeth sat opposite her. “My aunt did not wish you to feel responsible—you were injured in an accident. You did not choose to inconvenience her.”

“But I had just⁠—”

Her smile was rueful. “Yes, which is how we know you did not choose it.”

She spoke in jest, but Miss Bingley was not cheered.

“I have been wretched. But more than the pain and embarrassment I have endured, I have been unhappy because my sister has written me only once and then only to scold and refuse to miss her parties and balls for my sake. I see how your family behaves with one another, and I would like . . .” She glanced over at Bingley. “I would wish to have a family more like yours.” She paused. “Your London family,” she added.

Darcy was oddly reassured by the correction. Miss Bingley was still Miss Bingley.

Master Henry accepted this. “Do you promise not to do it again?” he asked.