“I say, Darcy,” Bingley said with a sigh, “it feels rather lonely here.”
“Thank you,” Darcy said in jest.
Bingley scoffed. “You of all people know what I mean. I suppose I never understood how different it could be. My rooms at The Albany would feel a punishment now.”
Darcy stared down the hall. “Indeed.”
Mr. Cole took their outerwear and nodded at the salver. There was a single letter there. “An express has come for you, Mr. Bingley.”
“Ah. When did it arrive?”
“Oh, about three o’clock, sir.”
“Five days,” Bingley muttered as he lifted the sealed letter. “Darcy, would you mind?”
Darcy broke the seal, unfolded the single sheet of paper, and handed it back to his friend.
“Thank you.” Bingley was silent for a moment, reading. “The gall of her,” he said quietly. “Caroline is scolding me.”
“You must be joking.”
“I wish that I was.” He handed Darcy the letter.
It was a brief missive.
Charles,
Mr. Hurst went to The Albany to speak with you only to discover that you never arrived. Mr. Darcy has returned to town, and we all quite depend upon you here. We shall expect you Monday for dinner.
Caroline
Bingley sighed. “She knows I left Netherfield for London last Wednesday. Did it not even occur to her that I never arrived at The Albany because I was prevented?”
Darcy shook his head. “She assumes you changed your mind and returned to Hertfordshire before they could tell you they had come to town.”
“If that is the case, she knows I am angry and wishes to pretend she has done nothing to deserve it.”
Darcy frowned as he reread the note. “Bingley, there is something else I must say.”
“Of course, Darcy.”
“Your sister cannot know where I am, as I did not return with her, and Georgiana is with my aunt, so she did not have any news from that quarter either. I cannot like how free your sister has become with my name.”
“She will be put in her place, Darcy,” Bingley said thoughtfully. “For no one will believe her once you are wed. You must excuse me. I have a letter of my own to write.” He glanced up at Darcy and said ruefully, “Fortunately, I am right-handed.”
Darcy rolled his eyes. “Which will hardly make a difference. Your hand is atrocious even when you are healthy.”
“Be careful, Darcy,” Bingley warned him, amusement lacing his words. “For I might be forced to challenge you to a game of one-armed billiards.”
Darcy chuckled. “Why not? It is no less absurd than this entire week has been.”
Bingley began to laugh, which no longer pained him overmuch. “Who could have guessed that an accident could bring about such profound changes?” He left to write his letter.
Darcy wandered into the breakfast room, recalling how beautiful Elizabeth had appeared there when she arrived to inquire after her sister, then stared out the window in the direction of Longbourn.
“Do be careful,” Elizabeth told Fitzwilliam as he paid an early call on Monday before leaving for town. She adjusted the scarf he was wearing. “The weather has turned very cold indeed. I think even the Thames may freeze over this year.”
“I will,” he said soberly, and then placed his hands over hers, stalling their movement. “I shall miss you.”