Page 26 of Mr. Darcy's Christmas Letters
Jane gasped. “What?”
“And I believe it is possible that he is still in love with me. But he could never ask for my hand. Not with Mr. Wickham as our brother.”
Jane thought this over. “Charles would be his brother, too. Certainly that would even the scales.”
Could the good outweigh so much bad? Elizabeth shook her head. It was too much to hope for.
“Well,” Jane said, standing up and shaking out her skirts, “if he is not brave enough to ask when your silly sister is wed and far away, then he does not deserve you.”
“He does not,” Elizabeth declared loftily in an attempt to banish the gloom that was gathering. “For who could?” She and Jane smiled at one another, but Elizabeth was soon yawning.
Jane stood to ring the bell.
“Kerr, is the bed warm?” Jane inquired, raising her voice.
The maid removed the bedwarmer. “Yes, ma’am.”
Elizabeth stood to make her way over to the bed, climbing in after Jane peeled the sheet and blanket back. Elizabeth pulled the quilt up to her nose and felt as warm as she had in Mr. Darcy’s greatcoat.
Jane tucked her in and kissed her on the forehead. Elizabeth closed her eyes, thanking God for giving her such a wonderful sister and asking forgiveness for her ingratitude. For she would have preferred a different nurse.
“So, your little game has been discovered,” Bingley said with a half-smile, dropping onto the settee in Darcy’s chambers and giving Darcy an elbow in the side. “Jane and Lizzy now both know you are here.”
Darcy groaned. He lifted his feet to the ottoman and held out his feet to the fire. Scripps had quickly located a pair of thick wool socks and slippers large enough to put over them before he bore Darcy’s hessians away. Darcy was feeling a good deal warmer and now felt at leisure to contemplate his position.
“It is your own fault, you know,” Bingley scolded him in jest. “You would have had an easier time of it had you not hidden away last night. Now they know you were in seclusion and will wish to know why.”
“Because of Miss Bingley, of course. By the by, why did you not tell me that Elizabeth Bennet was residing here?”
Bingley appeared confused. “I thought you knew. We spoke of my sister . . .”
“We spoke of the sister we have always spoken of. Miss Bingley.”
“No, we specifically spoke of the sister you wanted to avoid. You have never avoided Caroline.”
“What? That is not true.”
Bingley lifted both eyebrows. “When have you ever sought to eschew Caroline’s company, other than last night? Even after you snapped at her at Pemberley, you did not avoid her before you left. Lizzy, on the other hand—you did not come in time to attend the family dinner, and you removed yourself from the wedding breakfast rather quickly. Besides, you are forever arguing with her.”
Darcy cast his thoughts back. As much as he dreaded Miss Bingley’s company, he had never really avoided her. It was the cost of a friendship with Bingley, and he believed the friendship was worth it.
Bingley’s countenance creased as he thought. “You spoke of your behaviour last autumn. I reminded you that your behaviour was notherfault any more than my decision to remain in London was yours. I was speaking of the way you insulted Elizabeth at the assembly and again in your conversations with Louisa and Caroline when you said something about the Bennet daughters not marrying well.” He snickered. “You were wrong there, but I think I may be forgiven for assuming you meant mynewsister.”
Darcy dropped his head in his hands. “And Miss Bennet will also wonder why I hid myself away.”
Bingley shrugged, evidently enjoying himself. “Yes, most likely. Although she is an intelligent woman. She may already have worked it out.”
Worse and worse. “This is a disaster.” But no, there was hope. Miss Bennet had agreed to speak with him once she was feeling better. She had been entirely lucid when she said it. And they had shared a friendly, teasing sort of conversation, despite the unusual circumstances.
“One thing I have learned,” Bingley said, crossing his arms over his chest and staring into the fire, “is that the two eldest Bennet sisters are quite forgiving.”
“Beg pardon, Bingley,” Darcy said, returning the earlier jest, “but I believe you are married to the forgiving Bennet sister.” Not that he deserved to be forgiven.
“No,” Bingley said carefully. “Lizzy was quite angry with me when I returned, though she did not allow her sister to see it. Can you imagine if a man had treated your sister with special notice, speaking with her almost exclusively when in company with others, dancing with her twice at his own ball, and then decamping for London nearly immediately after? Leaving her to the tattling tongues of the town gossips and a disappointed mother?”
Darcy winced. “No, I cannot.” He knew, of course, that Jane Bennet had been hurt by Bingley’s departure. It was one of the things he had felt must be remedied, but he had feared making things worse, and had thus waited until he could accompany Bingley back to Netherfield himself.
“Well, she did. She held the grudge only until I was accepted again by my wife. Once Jane was happy, so was Elizabeth.” He stared into the fire.
