“You need not tell me,” Darcy grumbled. “I have given you that speech several times.”
“Well, my friend,” Bingley replied thoughtfully, “let me say only this, and then I will have done.”
Bingley waited, and Darcy offered him a nod.
“Darcy, you have demonstrated many times how difficult it is for you to find a woman who pleases you. I do not believe one ever truly has, until now. If Miss Elizabeth suits you, be your own man and give yourself permission to be happy.”
“Bingley,” Darcy replied, shaking his head, amused. “What has gotten into you?”
His friend offered a one-shouldered shrug. “Perhaps being thrown from my horse has knocked some sense into me.”
Two days after the accident, Elizabeth and Jane waited at the foot of the stairs as Mr. Bingley made his way down. He lowered his bad leg first while leaning on the banister with his good hand, then brought his uninjured leg down to the same step.
It was slow but steady, and he did not seem to be in much pain. Stiff and sore, perhaps, but smiling at Jane all the while.
Mr Darcy remained on one side of Mr. Bingley while a footman backed down the stairs in front of him. Between the two, they would not allow the patient to stumble. Even so, Jane’s hands were clasped together and held near her chest. She was the very picture of quiet devotion, but Elizabeth expected that her sister was prepared to leap forward and assist at any sign that Mr. Bingley might be in need of it.
Elizabeth met Mr. Darcy’s eye and found him watching Jane. He smiled knowingly and returned his attention to his friend. If Jane’s anxiety was not proof enough of her feelings for Mr. Bingley, then Elizabeth would give up on Mr. Darcy entirely. No one could misread their mutual affection.
They were about halfway down the steps when a booming voice cracked through the air. “Mr. Bingley!”
Mr. Bingley had just about to set his foot on the next step. He started at the sudden noise, his foot slid out from beneath him, and he fell backward.
Jane gasped and leapt up the steps.
Before the back of Mr. Bingley’s head could strike against the stairs behind him, Mr. Darcy’s arm was around the man’s shoulders, arresting his fall. Mr. Bingley grunted at the pain of the contact with his shoulder, and rather than attempting to haul Mr. Bingley back up to his feet, Mr. Darcy allowed his friend’s momentum to guide him to an easy seat. He then immediately removed his own arm. Mr. Bingley sat for a moment to regain his composure and his bearings but managed to nod his thanks to Mr. Darcy.
“Apologies, Bingley,” Mr. Darcy muttered, casting a nasty glance over her head at the owner of the voice.
Mr. Bingley grimaced, but replied, “None required, Darcy. Saved me from another injury there, I daresay.”
Elizabeth sighed. Could Mr. Collins never speak quietly, or did he always presume he was in his pulpit? Was his vaunted patroness deaf, or did he lower his voice for her alone?
“I only wished to offer congratulations on your recovery,” Mr. Collins said with only the tiniest hint of remorse and a good deal of affront.
The end to Mr. Collins’s planned visit was tomorrow morning. Elizabeth could not wait for him to go.
“Mr. Collins,” Mr. Bingley called, “would you mind awaiting us in the drawing room?”
“Of course, sir,” Mr. Collins said, hurrying away. It was infuriating how he was so quick to fulfil a request for the men in the house after his treatment of her.
She still had trouble believing that Charlotte had accepted him. However, Elizabeth could not dwell upon it now, not with Mr. Darcy in the house and her own feelings for him undergoing such a sea-change. The engagement was a done thing, and her friend was a practical woman. Elizabeth had never known her to do anything without a reason. She could only hope that Charlotte would not regret her decision.
Mr. Collins marrying outside of the Bennet family was in fact a relief to Elizabeth, but it was not something her mother was likely ever to forgive her for. Had Mr. Collins plotted his revenge purposefully he could not have landed upon anything better.
Mr. Bingley was upright again. He stood still for a moment before nodding. “I am well, Miss Bennet,” he told Jane, who released the breath she had been holding.
“I am so sorry for my cousin,” Jane said. “He is . . .”
“A guest in your home and not someone for whom you must offer pardon,” Mr. Bingley assured her. “Weallhave relatives for whom we blush.”
Well done, Mr. Bingley. Elizabeth was very pleased by the look in his eyes as he gazed at Jane, and she believed his message had been well received.
Jane turned to instruct the maid to bring tea to the drawing room. She walked ahead of the small group to be sure the door was opened wide enough for his entrance, and then that the cushion for his back and the pillow set upon a stool for his leg were placed exactly where they offered the most comfort. Elizabeth, who had trailed them all, stopped in the doorway as Jane fussed about Mr. Bingley. She nearly cried at the gentleness in Mr. Bingley’s gaze as he watched her sister tend him.
They would be very happy together. And to think, his sisters did not wish him to marry Jane, the best woman in the world and one any man would be fortunate to have caring for him!
“They are well suited, I think,” Mr. Darcy said. She had not realised he was standing so near, and the deep tenor of his voice made her shiver a bit.