Chapter Five
“Iam sorry, sir, but I cannot think continuing advisable.” Anders stood from where he had been examining one of the horses who had come up lame not five miles away from Netherfield. “The knee is sound, but the fetlock joint is tender.”
Darcy stood next to his carriage in the middle of the road, his arms crossed over his chest against the cold and the disappointment. He had been so close to a clean escape.
Anders must have mistaken his dismay for irritation. “She was well this morning. It is possible she was injured at that last turning.” The coach had hit a hidden gash in the road as it came around a bend. Not something one expected here where it was relatively wide and flat.
Darcy pinched the bridge of his nose. They were only halfway between Meryton and the Great North Road. There was nothing for it. They would have to go back.
“You do not suppose there would be room at the inn?” he asked Anders, but he already knew the answer.
Even if there was a room for him in amongst the London families who had arrived to visit their country relatives for St. Nicholas Day and the coming festivities, there was unlikely to be room for Anders or the footmen who accompanied him.
And even if there were room for them all, there would be talk about why he had not stayed with his friend despite Bingley having been married just today.
No, he would have to return to Netherfield—on the Bingleys’ wedding night.
Bingley placing him in a room as far away from the master’s chambers as possible seemed positively prescient given the current situation.
“Very well,” he told Anders gruffly. He swung back up into the carriage. Anders made the necessary adjustments, tied the injured horse to the back, and slowly drove them back the way they had come.
Elizabeth dragged herself up the stairs. The breakfast had continued merrily on for another two hours after Mr. Darcy’s early departure, but now the last guests were gone, as was the newly married couple.
He had removed so abruptly! They had at last been on the precipice of a normal conversation.
She had even teased him a bit, and he had not appeared to dislike it.
But he had left—had planned to leave—directly from Longbourn, and after only a short appearance.
She wondered if there was something at home that required his immediate presence or if he just had not wanted to remain here.
She feared she knew the answer.
Slowly, Elizabeth opened the door to her chamber and stepped inside, wanting nothing more than to bury herself beneath her warm quilt and sleep for a time.
“Lizzy,” Kitty said brightly, from where she and Mary were perched on the bed. “It is strange, is it not? Jane not being here, that is. She had been gone before on visits, but her room is empty now. And Lydia’s too.”
“I am not ashamed to say that I like Longbourn better without Lydia,” Mary said primly. “She was so very loud and always seemed to take up all the space in a room.”
“I cannot say you are wrong,” Kitty interjected, “but I miss her all the same.”
“It is the way of things,” Elizabeth said gently. “One day, both of you will leave Longbourn for your own homes as well.”
Mary shook her head, but Kitty smiled.
“What of you, Lizzy?” Mary asked. “Do not you wish for a home of your own?”
“I do,” Elizabeth replied. “But it must be with the right man.” And the right man for me has already come and gone. She closed her eyes against the throbbing in her head.
“I brought you some of Hill’s headache powders,” Mary told her. “You should take them.”
Elizabeth ought to have known that Mary would notice, for her sister could be quite observant when she wished. Mary held out a glass of water, and Elizabeth stirred the medicine in and drank it. “Thank you, Mary.”
“I am sorry you were so afflicted today of all days, but I suppose the idea of separating from Jane could not have been a happy one. At least she is only at Netherfield House.” Mary took the glass and set it on the table.
“True,” Elizabeth replied. “True.”
“What are you saying?” Kitty was aghast. “It is five miles away. Meryton is only one, but you still have to turn around and come back again!”
“It is only three, the way I walk,” Elizabeth said, waggling her eyebrows. Her sisters laughed.
“Still, it is not the same.” Kitty’s expression was drawn, mournful.
“Longbourn feels so empty. And it will be worse when you go to Netherfield, Lizzy, for I know that once you are there, Jane will not want to send you home again.” She glanced at her other sister.
“I mean no insult to you, Mary. It is only—there were five of us, and soon there will be only two.” She shook her head.
“I used to think I should like to have grand adventures, but I find I am not half so brave without Lydia.”
“Changes like this are hard for everyone,” Mary assured Kitty.
Elizabeth almost smiled, but she did not wish to offend Mary.
Change was not difficult for Mary. She longed for peace as much as Papa, and if losing a few sisters to matrimony gained her more time for quiet reflection, no doubt it would be deemed a reasonable sacrifice.
“Think on this, Kitty,” Elizabeth said. “When you are a little older, Jane will likely take you to town during the season. You will have your sisters about you, those who wish to travel to London, at any rate.” She gave Mary a wink and was delighted when her pious sister actually rolled her eyes.
“You will have both diversion and familiarity. You could not have expected as much had Jane not married Mr. Bingley.”
“That is true,” Kitty said. “Not this season, I suppose. That must be for Jane. But next year, perhaps?”
“I will tell Jane that you would like it, and that I am sure your manners will be everything pleasing,” Elizabeth assured her. Then she issued a warning. “You must demonstrate the truth of that so as not to call my judgment into question.”
“I will,” Kitty said, perking up. “I promise.”
“I should be pleased to go to town for music and books,” Mary said. “Perhaps Aunt and Uncle Gardiner might be willing to have me for a visit when Kitty goes.”
“I suspect you might have a visit earlier than that,” Elizabeth informed her.
“But I must save more money first. I plan to purchase as many books and as much sheet music as I can afford.”
“Very well,” Elizabeth said, making a note to save a little extra for Mary.
“Lizzy,” Kitty said shyly.
“Yes?”
“Do you think we could all sleep here tonight?”
Elizabeth glanced at Mary. Her middle sister would never ask such a thing for herself; the fact that Mary did not immediately cry off was enough to know her mind.
“Of course,” Elizabeth replied. “Though we will likely be very snug.” They would have a light dinner tonight, primarily the food left over from the breakfast, but that was still hours away. Her sisters left her to rest, and closing her eyes at last brought her some relief.
The knock came at his door several hours later, and Darcy sighed before opening it.
“Darcy!” Bingley cried. “I was told something about a lame horse?”
Darcy nodded. “I am so sorry, Bingley,” he said, embarrassed.
“I may need to remain here a few days, until we can see whether she improves on her own,” he explained.
“I will check on her in the morning and hope she is soon mended. But even if I must remain a little longer, I will take my meals here and make myself scarce. I do not wish to impose.”
Bingley slapped him on the back with a bit more force than Darcy expected. “It is never a problem to put you up, Darcy.” He leaned in. “But I will accept your offer as to the meals and am grateful you intend to host yourself.”
Darcy could not help but chuckle at that. “I will remain as unobtrusive as possible, Bingley. If the horse is not greatly improved in a few days, I will leave her here and head north without her. I can always pick her up on the way back from London at the end of the season.”
“Do you intend to participate this year, then?” Bingley appeared more surprised by this than he had been to find Darcy still in residence.
“Why would I not?”
“No reason. You just seemed in such a hurry to leave for Pemberley.”
“Yes, I was hoping to avoid the very predicament I now find myself in,” Darcy said drily, and Bingley laughed.
“Fair enough. You shall have to join us for the theatre and for dinner when we are in town. I know Jane is anxious to become better acquainted with you and all my friends. Her sister will be with us for part of the season, I believe, so you will have your verbal sparring partner to make it interesting.”
No need to inquire which sister that would be. He began to wonder whether he would be able to regroup and approach Elizabeth in London. “It would be a pleasure, Bingley.”
“Good fellow. And Hurst and I mean to get Caroline married off this season as well, so we will need your help.”
Darcy’s expression must have been comical, for Bingley bent over with laughter.
“You do not think I mean you, Darcy?” He wiped his eyes.
“I cannot think of anything more likely to lose me your friendship. Can you imagine? Perhaps I ought to have her compromise you in the library since that is where we most often find you.” He caught his breath.
“Well, not here at Netherfield, I grant you. The library is on the small side for you.”
“It would not matter what you did,” Darcy grumbled good-naturedly. “I will never marry your sister.”
Bingley tipped his head to one side, a little like Darcy’s favourite hunting dog when he caught a scent.
“Hmm” was all he said. “I thank you for the laugh, Darcy, but I really must be returning to my lovely wife. Enjoy your solitude. I have given orders that you are to have things just as you like them.”
“You are a good friend, Bingley.”
“Thank you.” Bingley smiled slyly at him. “And good day, Darcy.”