Chapter Three #2
“Will you be able to travel back to Netherfield tonight? The Bennets will certainly call for their carriage, or we might send to your sisters for yours.”
“According to you, Netherfield will be all but closed up. If they believe I am already in London, I doubt my chamber is currently fit for habitation. I gave Adams a holiday, you know, so he will not be there to stand guard over my belongings.” Bingley sighed.
Darcy tried to recall if he had ever heard Bingley so vexed. He did not believe that he had. “I ought to have been more forceful in my defence of you, Bingley.”
“I have not heard you apologise so many times in the entire course of our friendship, Darcy,” Bingley said, closing his eyes. “You are forgiven, of course. Let us hear no more about it.” He sighed. “You should be grateful your own sister is so gentle.”
Georgiana had been too gentle, to tell the truth. “I really ought to send a message back to Netherfield,” Darcy said, glancing back at the door. “I do not think Miss Elizabeth shall be willing to send another.”
“Yes, we rather raced past that,” Bingley said, his eyes still closed. “Did it not arrive?”
“It arrived,” Darcy replied. “However, your sister never read it, just . . .”
Bingley cracked one eyelid open. “Just what?”
Darcy swallowed. He was not used to feeling this much guilt, and he silently cursed Miss Bingley for being the author of it.
“As I entered the breakfast room this morning, she was tossing a message into the fire. Your sisters already had plans to decamp, and Miss Bingley expected that the Bennets were writing to request something further of her.”
Bingley sighed and tossed his good arm over his face. “It is a good thing she stays with the Hursts. They will not realise that I am missing even after they arrive at Hurst’s home.”
“You shall allow them to proceed?” Darcy asked, incredulous. “For what purpose?”
“To satisfy my curiosity,” Bingley replied. There was a soft knock upon the door, and the manservant who had been in the room when Darcy arrived poked his head in.
“The mistress wishes to inquire whether Mr. Darcy be joining you for dinner, sir, or would he prefer to dine downstairs with the family?”
Bingley glanced at Darcy, who nodded. “If it is all right with Mrs. Bennet, he will join me. Thank you, Graham.”
“Very good, sir.”
When Graham had gone, Darcy picked up the thread of their conversation. “What are you curious to know?”
Bingley made an indignant sound in the back of his throat. “I wish to see how long it will be before they realise I am missing. Shall we place a wager on it?”
“No,” Darcy said emphatically. “I have been wrong enough for one day. Are you sure you wish to do this? They will be quite angry when they learn of it.”
Bingley’s jaw was clenched, but he managed to say, “Then we shall all be angry together. Caroline had her opportunity to discover my whereabouts, but she was too full of her own importance to take it. Let her stew in the consequences for a bit.”
“That being the case,” Darcy said carefully, “do you think the Bennets would mind if I removed here? I could always allow your sisters to assume I simply travelled to London this afternoon with my belongings to follow, and I might be of assistance to you.”
Bingley began to laugh but stopped abruptly and put his good hand over his injured shoulder. “Do not make me laugh, Darcy.” After a moment he was calm again. “I never thought I would see Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley running from a woman.”
Darcy frowned. “Your sister’s temper is quite foul. In fact, I should write my sister and suggest she and Mrs. Annesley make a visit to my Aunt Matlock. Your sisters will certainly accost her to inquire after me.”
Bingley agreed. “Tomorrow, I shall send word to Mrs. Nicholls to halt their work and reopen the house. It shall cost me a great deal of money to restore the goodwill of the staff, I think, but I would not have either them or my neighbours thinking I should be so discourteous.”
“Very well, Bingley,” Darcy said.
The door opened again. “Dinner is served,” Graham said.
Darcy stood to allow the servants to set up a table next to the bed. Graham came in with a tray that had small legs attached to it at an angle and placed it over Bingley’s lap.
“That is a clever contraption,” Darcy said.
“Mr. Bennet made it for his mother some years ago when she was poorly,” Mr. Graham said. “He sent a maid to the attics for it this morning. Not his design, he says, and not much in use, but valuable for circumstances such as this.”
Darcy admired the tray nearly as much as the thoughtfulness which must have prompted Mr. Bennet to have it retrieved. It would preserve Bingley’s dignity by allowing him to eat his soup unaided.
When the second course was served to them, Darcy noted that Bingley’s meat had already been cut for him, much as it would be for a child.
While Bingley was a tad embarrassed by his infirmity, it would have been a great deal worse to have a servant cut the meat while Bingley waited.
That would have been difficult to abide.
Again, he was almost ashamed of his previous thoughts about this family. For all their faults, there was more true gentility in their household than there had been at Netherfield.
After dinner, Darcy asked, “Can I do aught else for you, Bingley?”
His friend nodded. “Go write your note, then relay my gratitude to the Bennets. I have put them out a great deal today, and yet no one has been anything but kind and helpful.”
“I will,” Darcy said.