“Of course,” Darcy said, taking her hand to offer a little bow. “Your skin is like ice!” he cried.
She met his gaze. “Yes, thank you, Mr. Darcy,” she said pointedly, as though she believed him to be scolding her rather than expressing concern. “I have been out longer than I might wish today.”
Darcy did not attempt to delay her as she hurried into the sitting room where he presumed there was a fire already burning. Satisfied that she would soon be warm and feeling all the guilt of not being present to help his friend while the inhabitants of Longbourn had been forced out into the elements to do so, Darcy turned to face the butler, who silently took his hat and gloves.
Darcy followed behind Mr. Hill as they climbed a wide oak staircase. Although the light outside was fading, they were still able to see because of the numerous tall windows on the walls nearest them. In between the windows were alcoves where various small but substantial sculptures were placed. If Darcy had the time, he would have stopped to examine them, for they appeared, at first glance, to be very fine.
There were two wings that diverged at the top of the stairs. Mr. Hill led him to the left. They stopped at the first door, though there were two more on one side and three on the other down a long hall. The butler knocked twice, and the door was opened from inside.
“Mr. Darcy to see Mr. Bingley,” Mr. Hill said, speaking in Darcy’s presence for the first time. If he was not mistaken, the butler sounded . . . disapproving. Perhaps he thought Darcy was rather behind time to be visiting. Had he known, he would have come straight away.
“Darcy,” he heard his friend call from inside. “Come in, man.”
Bingley was not himself, that much was certain. His voice was weak and strained.
“Bingley,” Darcy said immediately, stepping inside. “I must offer my apologies.” His friend was sitting up in bed, his left arm bent across his chest and bound there, his left leg propped up on a pillow. His countenance was wan, his eyes pained. “I had not heard you were injured.”
“Miss Elizabeth sent off a note not long after we arrived, or so I was told,” Bingley said. “Was I misinformed?”
“I do not believe so, but . . .” He glanced back at the manservant who had been tending Bingley. He was even now discreetly slipping out of the room. When the door shut softly behind him, Darcy drew a chair over to the side of Bingley’s bed and sat. “Miss Bingley did not see fit to read anything arriving from Longbourn.”
Bingley’s eyes narrowed. “My sisters have no idea I am here?”
Darcy shook his head. “Had I not met Miss Elizabeth on her way to give us the news in person, I should not know, either.”
“Miss Elizabeth went out in this cold again?” Bingley inquired, then answered his own question. “Of course she did. She is a rather determined creature.”
She was indeed. “How are you?” Darcy asked, intent on changing the subject. There was no splint on Bingley’s arm or leg, which was promising.
“Dislocated my shoulder. Hurts like the devil, though not nearly as much as it did before Mr. Jones corrected it. In that way, being out in the cold was a blessing, for it apparently kept the arm from swelling overmuch and making it more difficult to repair.”
“And the leg?”
“Bruised. Should be able to walk all right in a day or two, but the shoulder will take a few weeks, and a long carriage ride may be a trial for longer than that. I will not be riding to London any time soon.”
Darcy would have to tell him, but first, he had a few more questions. “How did it happen?”
“Mischief slipped on some ice and pitched me right off into a ditch.”
Bingley’s horse was aptly named. “It was frigid today.”
“It was. By the time I had recovered my wits I was too cold and drowsy to make any attempt to stand. Miss Elizabeth removed her own cloak to keep me warm while we waited. Made me feel a bit like a damsel in distress, but I will not deny I required the warmth.”
Poor Miss Elizabeth must have been frozen though, and then to head out again tonight when no one arrived from Netherfield in response to her summons? The difference between a woman of worth and a woman who merely believed in her own worth had never been more clearly drawn.
“You ought not to have gone alone,” Darcy told Bingley.
“You offered, but I was using you to keep my sisters here in Hertfordshire,” Bingley said with a weary grin.
“I beg your pardon,” Darcy replied with a shake of his head, “but I was not enough of an inducement. They are even now closing the house and preparing to return to London in your wake.”
“They are closing the house? Without asking for my consent?” He struggled to sit up but groaned. Darcy helped him to lie back.
When Bingley was settled again, Darcy nodded. “I did say they should wait for you, but they were determined.” He paused before saying, “Though I disagree with their methods, I do understand why they feel compelled to keep you away from here, Bingley. Are you aware that you have raised expectations? It was quite clear at the ball that the neighbours expect you to offer for Miss Bennet. Your presence here at Longbourn will only have confirmed that report.”
“Darcy,” Bingley said wearily, “I do know you have my best interests at heart. Indeed, part of the reason I was off to London was to offer myself a bit of distance to think on what I should do. Miss Bennet is the most beautiful woman I have ever known, but I also require a strong woman and one who genuinely cares for me.” He met Darcy’s gaze. “She showed me both today.”
Darcy had meant to wait, but he could not. “Are youcertainshe returns your affections? I watched her rather closely last night and could observe no admiration of you that she does not also show to others.”