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Elizabeth allowed herself a brief sense of vindication. Miss Bingley had stepped back from two boys who were never anywhere near her because she was afraid they would soil her elegant dress—and as a result had injured the least elegant part of her person.
But almost at once, Elizabeth recalled a few of her own mishaps. At twelve, she had ripped the seam of her walking dress from hem to waist while climbing a tree in the orchard. She had been forced to walk a mile and a half across the estate with Jane’s shawl wrapped tightly around her middle. And when she was fifteen, she had slipped from a stile and landed astride the top rail. For two days she had walked stiffly with Lydia repeatedly demanding to know why. Jane had guarded her chamber door while a maid repaired her clothes, and her father had laughed silently, but asked no questions. She had been eternally grateful for their restraint.
Miss Bingley was vain, supercilious, and petty. But she was also lying bedridden in a stranger’s house, in considerable pain, without any of her family to comfort her.
No, she decided. In such a situation, even conceited Miss Bingley deserved some mercy. Elizabeth frowned at Jane, whom she held entirely responsible for this unwelcome development in her character.
Jane saw the frown and lifted her shoulders slightly, as though to ask what she had done.
“Miss Bingley will no doubt wish to be taken home,” Aunt Gardiner said.
“I would not advise that,” Mr. Hinshaw said. “A carriage journey over London streets would subject her to repeated jolting. It would greatly increase her suffering and the length of time required to heal.”
“May I ask . . .” Elizabeth’s voice trailed off.
“Yes?” the surgeon asked.
She wished to be kind, but it was also important to be truthful. “My aunt is quite right. Miss Bingley will not be well pleased to remain. How long do you believe it will take for her to be healed enough to return home? For she is sure to inquire the minute she is feeling any better.”
Mr. Hinshaw nodded. “How far away is her home?”
“Oh, it must be three miles from here,” Jane said. “Grosvenor Street, in Mayfair?”
The surgeon sighed. “Miss Bingley must rest and avoid sitting up for any length of time until the inflammation subsides. It will be worse tomorrow but should then improve steadily. Usually, patients are able to walk a short distance after a few days, but I would not recommend she attempt the journey for at least a fortnight.”
“If her family insists,” Aunt Gardiner said, “there is little we can do to prevent it. But we will certainly relay your advice, Mr. Hinshaw, and we stand ready if Miss Bingley does remain here under our care.”
Mr. Hinshaw then gave instructions for cold cloths, rest, and willow bark for the pain, though he warned that for the first night or two the patient might prefer a drop of laudanum. He arranged to call the next day.
They all agreed, and Aunt Gardiner opened the door to the bedchamber as Mr. Hinshaw was departing through the dressing room.
“This chamber is cold,” Miss Bingley announced.
Mr. Hinshaw turned. “Good luck, ladies,” he said, and then was gone.
“I shall inform the footman to return to Grosvenor Street and alert Miss Bingley’s family,” Aunt Gardiner said pensively. “Her sister will wish to stay with her, no doubt.”
“It is no difficulty for us to share a chamber,” Jane said immediately, and Elizabeth agreed.
“Thank you, girls. This may not be the visit we had planned, but we should still be able to leave for Longbourn on the twenty-second.”
They separated. Aunt Gardiner went to write a note for Miss Bingley’s footman to deliver, and Jane and Elizabeth stepped into the sickroom.
“The light is directly in my eyes,” Miss Bingley complained.
Elizabeth adjusted the curtains.
“This mattress is excessively soft.”
“Would you prefer a different chamber?” Jane asked. “They are all upstairs, I am afraid, but I am sure my uncle would carry you up if you wished.”
Miss Bingley stared at Jane as though this was a trick. “No. I do not wish to be moved.”
“Then we shall leave you to your rest,” Jane said, placing Grandmother Gardiner’s handbell within Miss Bingley’s reach. “Ring if you require anything. Cora will be in the sitting room, just through that door.”
They stepped into the passage, and no sooner had Elizabeth closed the door behind them than there was the tinkle of the bell.
“Yes, Miss Bingley?” they heard Cora ask.
