Page 14 of The Engagement at Longbourn

“Yes.”

Mr. Hurst, from the sofa, said, “Thought he was here.”

Silence fell. Bingley turned slowly toward Caroline. She recovered first. “There must be some mistake.”

“No.”

“Charles—”

“You wrote to Jane yesterday.”

Caroline’s needle remained suspended above the silk. Bingley’s voice became very quiet. “Did you tell her Darcy was in London?”

Louisa looked away.

Caroline set down the embroidery. “My dear Charles, the letter had already been drafted before we learned—”

“You learned this morning. The letter left yesterday.”

“I naturally assumed Darcy would arrive.”

“You wrote that he had.”

Caroline opened her mouth. Bingley shook his head once. He was not an angry man by nature. His displeasure usually came like a summer shower—warm, brief, and easily forgotten.

This was different. “I am returning to Netherfield.”

“Charles!”

“My friend is ill.”

“He is at Longbourn.”

“Yes.” Caroline’s expression hardened. “And Jane Bennet is there.”

Bingley stared at her. At last he said, “Yes, Caroline. I had noticed.”

He left the room.

Mr. Hurst lifted his flask in silent salute.

CHAPTER SIX

Mr. Bingley Comes Home

Netherfield Park had been shut for scarcely three days when its master returned at such speed that the housekeeper, Mrs. Nicholls, believed at first there must be a fire.

There was no fire. There was Charles Bingley, muddy to the knees, windblown, and shouting instructions from the entrance hall. “Open the east rooms. Colonel Fitzwilliam may use whichever bedchamber he pleases. Send a man to Longbourn with my card and ask whether Mr. Darcy requires anything from here. Have someone find his valet. I believe Jenkins went to London with the baggage. No—better send to London for him immediately. And Mrs. Nicholls?”

The housekeeper paused. “Yes, sir?”

“Please have something hot ready. I have not eaten since breakfast.” That, at least, sounded like Mr. Bingley.

By two o’clock he was at Longbourn.

Mrs. Bennet received him with mixed emotions so powerful that they seemed to compete visibly across her face. Joy at seeing him warred with outrage over his departure; anxiety for Mr. Darcy battled with the irresistible satisfaction of having a wealthy young gentleman in her drawing room again.

“Oh! Mr. Bingley! You have returned. And not a moment too soon, for your poor friend has been in the most dreadful state, and Jane has scarcely slept, though I tell her she must, and Lizzy is forever upstairs because Mr. Darcy grows calmer when she is near him, which I suppose is natural if half of what everyone says is true—”