“Charles!” Miss Bingley exclaimed. “The state of you!” Elizabeth watched as Miss Bingley’s eyes moved from her brother to Mr. Darcy.
That Elizabeth did not like.
Thankfully, Miss Bingley’s attentions soon turned to Mr. Fitzwilliam. She was welcome to him, though Mr. Fitzwilliam might certainly do better.
Mr. Fitzwilliam smiled at Miss Bingley and bowed elegantly as he corrected his attire.
“Your sisters were just calling to inquire after Jane, Mr. Bingley,” Elizabeth said politely as the men repaired themselves.
“Yes,” he said, having put himself mostly to rights. His coat was rather dirty, but he did not seem to notice. “They mentioned they might. Caroline, Louisa. Are you on your way out, then?”
Miss Bingley shook her head at her brother. “Oh, Charles,” she said, sounding both sad and judgmental at once. “Our call is over. We shall speak at home.”
Mr. Bingley’s sisters removed themselves from the house with all the state of royalty.
“Will your sisters punish you for dirtying your clothes, Bingley?” Fitzwilliam asked laughingly as he turned to watch the ladies leave.
Mr. Bingley shook his head. “It is likely. However, as said punishment is most often a few days of being treated to silence from them both, it hardly serves as a deterrent.”
Elizabeth did laugh at that.
“I ought not have said that before you, Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Bingley said, abashed. “I do beg your pardon.”
“No pardon is required from me, Mr. Bingley. It was wrong of me to laugh.”
Papa stepped back out into the hall, properly attired.
“They blamed poor Mr. Tobias for the accident!” Mary blurted out as she returned to them.
Oh dear. It was truly becoming a day where there was little propriety at all to be discovered on the grounds of Longbourn. She really must set a better example for her younger sister.
Mr. Bingley’s face flamed red. “Please tell me that is an exaggeration, Miss Mary.”
Mary shook her head.
Elizabeth could wish that Mary had not revealed that bit of news to Mr. Bingley, though she would have informed Papa. Quietly, in private. But she could not fault Mary’s desire to protect the coachman.
“I see,” Mr. Bingley said, setting his jaw. “Perhaps I should return home.”
“We would rather you stayed to dinner,” Elizabeth said hurriedly. “We can send a man for a change of clothes if you like, but after Papa has put you to work, it seems only fair to feed you.”
Mr. Bingley was undecided for a moment, but Papa said, “Stay, Bingley. Let them stew tonight, and then you can menace the flank in the morning.”
He laughed self-consciously at that. “A sound plan, Bennet. Thank you, Miss Elizabeth. I should like to dine with you all.”
Elizabeth pulled Brooks aside with a message for Netherfield’s coachman, and the man stepped quickly out of doors to catch him before the carriage pulled away.
It had taken Mr. Darcy the longest to put his clothing to rights. It made sense, as his arms were longer than everyone else’s and he still had gloves on, no doubt to protect his injured hand. When he finally finished buttoning his coat, he glanced up at her.
Elizabeth met that heated gaze and knew at once that he had seen her ogling him. She frowned. He would think her a terrible flirt.
If only Jane were here. Everything fell apart when she was not.
“You ought not be using that hand, Mr. Darcy,” she said, hiding her embarrassment.
He shrugged. “You ought not be scrambling up and down hills in the dark and the mud,” he told her. He did not sound upset. Indeed, Elizabeth detected a kind of teasing humour in his words. “Apparently, we are neither of us inclined to do as we should.”
Elizabeth could not help the harrumph that escaped her lips.