Darcy’s confusion turned to something sharper. “Taken ill?”
She nodded, the color draining slightly from her cheeks. “She was caught in the rain on the way here. We knew she would most likely remain the night, but the note this morning said she had taken a chill. No other details were given. We… we were alarmed.”
“I knew nothing of this,” he said, his voice suddenly taut. “Please—come in and be seated. I shall send for the housekeeper.”
He led her quickly toward the chair nearest the fire, gesturing for a footman to fetch Mrs. Nicholls at once. Elizabeth sat, her spine straight, her gloved hands clenched tightly in her lap.
Darcy could feel the heat rising in his chest. How could Jane Bennet have been under this roof, unwell, and neither he nor Bingley be told?
Mrs. Nicholls appeared with brisk steps and a worried expression. “Mr. Darcy, sir. You asked for me?”
Darcy gestured toward Elizabeth. “Miss Elizabeth has just informed me her sister is here. I had no knowledge of it. Is this true?”
Mrs. Nicholls nodded. “Yes, sir. Miss Bennet arrived in the late afternoon. She was soaked through from the rain. Miss Bingley greeted her and showed her into dinner. I’m—” the woman hesitated, then straightened her shoulders and looked directly in front of her at nothing. “I’m afraid nothing was offered to Miss Bennet, so when it was time for her to take her leave, I took it upon myself to set up a room for her and provide a clean nightgown from one of the servants so she could sleep in something dry.”
Elizabeth made a strangled sound, part outrage, part disbelief. “You mean she sat in her wet gown all throughout dinner?”
Mrs. Nicholls’ lips pressed tightly together. “Yes, miss. She developed a fever before the evening was out, so I had a scullery maid sit with her. She awoke with a sore throat and cough early this morning, so I gave her some willow bark tea. I then took the liberty of sending a note to Longbourn and to the apothecary as well.”
“You mean to tell me,” Darcy’s voice rose in anger, “that Miss Bingley gave no orders for dry clothes? Not even a fire to be laid or a room for the night?”
“She was not offered anything, sir.”
Elizabeth stood abruptly, her entire frame trembling. “How could Miss Bingley—how could anyone—receive a guest in such a state and leave her alone?”
Sparks flew from her eyes, and Darcy could see her anger burning brightly in them. “Miss Elizabeth, I give you my word—I had no knowledge of your sister’s condition, and I believe I can speak for my friend and state that he, too, was not evenaware of her presence here. Had either of us known, we would have seen to her comfort ourselves.”
Elizabeth’s eyes, stormy with indignation, met his, and he could feel her taking in his measure, weighing his words and judging their validity. After several moments, she took a deep breath, and her shoulders relaxed. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy. I… I believe you.”
“Mrs. Nicholls will show you to your sister, and I will speak with Bingley.”
He bowed in Elizabeth’s direction and motioned for her to follow Mrs. Nicholls, who gave him an approving nod. Once the two women were out of sight, Darcy climbed the stairs himself, taking them two at a time. At the top, he turned left and went into the family wing. Outside Bingley’s chamber, he rapped twice with force.
“Bingley, open the door!”
The door cracked open, and Bingley’s valet poked through. “My master is still sleeping, sir,” he said in a scandalized tone.
“Wake him. At once,” Darcy commanded. “Tell him I must speak with him immediately.”
As Darcy listened to the commotion behind the door—fumbling, groaning, and a string of mumbled protests—his jaw tightened further. He did not care if Bingley had slept a moment past dawn or a hundred. Jane Bennet had been a guest in this house, invited under his friend’s own hand, and she had been left to shiver alone in a wet gown while Miss Bingley looked on superiorly from her place at the table.
Unacceptable.
The latch clicked. The door swung open.
Bingley appeared, hair disheveled, eyes bleary, dressing gown hastily thrown over his shirt. “Darcy? What in heaven’s—”
“You need to dress. Now,” Darcy said coldly. “There is a matter of some urgency requiring your attention.”
Bingley gaped at him, stunned.
“I suggest you make yourself presentable,” Darcy finished, voice like flint. “You and I have much to discuss.”
And with that, he turned on his heel and stalked back down the hall.
∞∞∞
Elizabeth followed Mrs. Nicholls down the corridor at a brisk but quiet pace, her heart still pounding with indignation.
