Page 17 of The Engagement at Longbourn

“I owe you an apology.” Her hands became still among the chrysanthemums. “I left without saying goodbye.”

“Yes.”

“I thought— That is, I was led to believe—” He stopped and made himself begin again. “No. That sounds cowardly. I allowed myself to be persuaded that my attentions were unwelcome.”

Jane looked at him for a long moment.

“Were they?” he asked.

Her voice was quiet. “No.”

Bingley exhaled.

“But,” Jane continued, and he looked startled, “I do not think I should be made to answer for feelings I never had an opportunity to express before you disappeared.”

He swallowed. “No.”

“Nor do I think your sister should write to me of your plans as though you have none of your own.”

Bingley’s face changed. “She told you?”

“She told me Mr. Darcy was in London.”

He shut his eyes. Jane watched him with compassion, but she did not rescue him from discomfort.

When he opened his eyes, she said, “You are kind, Mr. Bingley. I have always thought so. But kindness without judgment may leave other people to bear the consequences.”

It was the sternest thing Jane Bennet had ever said to him. Bingley looked as if she had struck him.

Then, slowly, he nodded. “You are right.”

Jane returned to the flowers.

After a moment he asked, “May I begin again?”

A smile touched her mouth. “You may try.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

The Matlocks Descend

The Earl and Countess of Matlock arrived at Longbourn in a travelling carriage large enough to cause comment from one end of Meryton to the other.

They brought Dr. Morrison’s assistant, two footmen, a maid, a trunk of linen, another trunk containing items no one seemed to have requested, and enough authority to make even Mrs. Bennet temporarily speechless.

Temporarily.

“My lord! My lady! Oh, what a terrible circumstance in which to meet you, though naturally we are honoured, but I would rather Mr. Darcy had come to us for dinner than by farm wagon—”

The Earl of Matlock, a broad-shouldered man with iron-grey hair and Richard’s amused eyes, bowed over Mrs. Bennet’s hand. “Madam, my family is deeply in your debt.”

Mrs. Bennet stopped.

Her expression softened. “He was hurt. What else could we do?”

The countess looked toward the stairs. “Where is my nephew?”

“Sleeping, my lady,” Elizabeth said. “Dr. Morrison believes the fever has not worsened since morning.”