Page 163 of Near Pemberley

Elizabeth forgot to move away from Darcy, and Darcy had time only to lean back in his chair.

Mrs. Barnes appeared with the tea tray, her expression perfectly composed. “I hope I have not kept you waiting, sir.”

“Not at all,” Darcy replied.

Elizabeth noticed the faintest amusement in the housekeeper’s eyes, but she was far too well-mannered to ask why.

“Oh, you managed to attend to his hand. Good. Do you think it needs bandaging, miss?”

Darcy looked up in disbelief. “I am here.”

“Yes, Mr. Darcy, you are. But gentlemen are not always the best judges of their own injuries.”

“I cannot imagine why you would think that,” he muttered.

“You men are not nearly as talented at healing yourselves as you are at injuring yourselves.”

To prevent Darcy from answering, Elizabeth put her hand on his arm, never realising the intimacy of that, and turned to the older woman. “Mrs. Barnes, I believe it would benefit from a bandage for the night, with this ointment.” She handed the small jar to Mrs. Barnes. “But for now, I think it is better left uncovered. The air will do its work, and it may prevent Mr. Darcy from complaining too much about our interference.”

“Very well, Miss Bennet.”

“Thank you.” Darcy also nodded towards the housekeeper. “You may bandage my hand when I retire; you will already do that service for my ribs.”

“Your ribs?” Elizabeth turned sharply. “What is wrong with your ribs?”

Darcy immediately regretted mentioning them. “They are merely bruised.”

“Bruised?”

“It sounds considerably worse when repeated in that tone.”

“And what tone would you prefer?”

“One suggesting complete confidence in my recovery.”

Elizabeth looked at him for a moment. “I fear that is not the tone most people use when they are attempting to conceal an injury.”

Darcy had no answer to that.

Mrs. Barnes, who had wisely remained silent, gathered the ointment and placed it carefully aside. “I shall see to it this evening, sir, exactly as Mr. Hargreaves instructed.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Barnes.”

As the housekeeper was leaving, Elizabeth stared at Darcy again. “You were not going to tell me about your ribs.”

“I had intended to.”

“When?”

He paused.

“Eventually.”

Her expression made it clear that this answer did not satisfy her.

Darcy sighed. “I begin to understand that honesty will require more courage than fighting Wickham.”

Elizabeth looked at him with concern. “He really hurt you.”