“Although my father’s dream of me owning an estate will have to be forgotten and hopefully passed to my son or grandson. But pay no heed to my ramblings,” Bingley said, pulling out some new items for the display. “I have only recently come into ownership of this establishment and am still acclimating to working as I did as a young boy. Enough of me. Tell me of you since we left Cambridge. I cannotrecall—is your estate nearby? And how do you come to this village?”
Darcy shook his head and the weight of Bingley’s situation. “No, I was on my way home and suffered an injury. The doctor will not allow me to continue my journey immediately. I am to remain in Hunsford for another month complete.”
“And where are you residing?”
“At the parsonage. Miss Eliz…that is Miss Bennet discovered me. The Collinses have been very generous, allowing me to reside there until I am fully recovered.”
“Yes. The Collinses.” There was a pitiful sound in Bingley’s voice, which Darcy immediately recognized as that of the lovelorn Bingley of times past.
“Might you be of assistance to me?” Darcy asked, latching onto an idea. “I am in need of a gift for the parsonage. I have been a guest now for many days and wish to show my gratitude by giving a small token. Both Mrs. Collins and Miss Bennet, as well as Mr. Collins, have taken great pains to secure my comfort.”
Bingley thought before he reached under the counter. “For Mr. Collins,” he said. “This was put into a shipment of books I received this past week. It is from an old clergymanin the colonies, a Jonathan Edwards. Its title isSinners in the Hands of an Angry God.”
Darcy grinned as he took the outstretched book. “I am familiar with it and believe it fits Mr. Collins perfectly. Now, if only there was something for the ladies of the house.”
Bingley’s eyes lit up. “A gift for the parson’s wife? I am sure I have something here that would mirror her…kindness. Mrs. Collins is a treasure,” he whispered, walking toward a wall behind a sea of books and pulling down a trunk. “For both Mrs. Collins and Miss Bennet, this might suit them quite well.” He lay the trunk on the counter and pulled back the lid, drawing out two handkerchiefs edged with exquisite Belgium lace, ribbons, and embroidery. One a buttercream yellow and the other a pale pink.
“These are very fine, not items I would assume to find in a small country mercantile, Mr. Bingley.”
The man fingered the edges. “And you shouldn’t, Mr. Fitzroy. They were to have been a gift. They come from the finest Parisian modiste in London.”
“Madame Claudette’s?”
“I see you know your way around London.” Bingley chuckled.
“As any self-respecting brother would. But will these not be missed by the recipient? Are you willing to part with them?”
“Yes. I think it is time,” Bingley said, folding the silk and wrapping them with twine and paper. “They were originally ordered for my wife—”
“Your wife?” Darcy almost choked on the words.
“Yes. My late wife.”
Darcy at once noticed the black band on Bingley’s arm. “Forgive me, but I had not heard.”
“Of course not. I thank you, but do not concern yourself. It has been almost a year, and I dare say it might have been a tender mercy. Rosalind would not have wished to live in such reduced circumstances.”
“Rosalind?”
“Chesterfield. The former Rosalind Chesterfield,” said Bingley.
Darcy remembered Miss Chesterfield had been one of Bingley’s original “angels” before they had ever heard of Netherfield Park. He had met her at a party in London, and it seemed wherever Bingley went, Miss Chesterfield followed.Twenty thousand pounds, spoke Italian, played the harp—and an older brother with gaming debts and a penchant for loose women.Darcy remembered her pursuit of Bingley and howhis young friend had imagined himself in love.She was classically beautiful, only second behind Jane Bennet. But she had a heart as hard as the cliffs of Dover. And even the reputation for being fast.
Darcy was brought out of his ruminations by the bell on the door as customers entered. “They are just what I wished for,” Darcy said, removing coins from his pocket and setting them on the counter. “And, if it is not too much trouble, I would enjoy reestablishing our connection while I remain in Kent.”
“I would like that as well. Are you free to dine tomorrow evening?”
“I am and will look forward to it.”
Bingley’s attention was arrested by something over Darcy’s shoulder, and he turned to see the ladies from the parsonage along with Mrs. Wickham. Miss Elizabeth gave him a gentle smile while Mrs. Wickham glanced around the quiet shop, seeming content in her solitude.
Handing Darcy his purchases, Bingley said, “Mrs. Collins, I received your…husband’s order today from London. It is rather large, and I can have my boy bring it around later when he is back from another errand.”
“That would be lovely, sir,” Mrs. Collins said, lowering her eyes, a soft blush rising to her cheeks.
Good heavens. The woman blushes just talking to Bingley. Could I have been so blind at Netherfield?
Their voices faded into the background as he once again set his attention on Elizabeth and Georgiana. “May I ask what delights await you ladies today? Are you to visit the circulating library? Or go on a walk through the orchard?”
