Page 60 of Fortuitous Encounters

“I think we need a reverse-Simon.”

When Darcy looked confused, she clarified, “The boy who put mud on your dancing pumps.”

“Ah!” he replied with a big grin.

“Go back out and return to the front of the house,” Mrs Redgrave said. “I shall deliver your lady to the breakfast parlour in perfect array in a half-hour.”

Both women slightly smiled when the man did not contest calling her ‘your lady’ but neither wanted to read any more into it than there was. It might have been some sort of acknowledgement that they were at least flirting, but it could just as easily have been absence of mind, or worse yet, the man gearing up his courage to endure the lady of the house.

As Darcy headed for the door, Mrs Redgrave said, “If you like, I can bring Flora to visit tomorrow.”

“I should like that very much!” he said, before bowing and leaving to follow her instructions.

Just as he exited, he turned back and said, “In fact, I shall do you one better,” but then he turned and ran out before either could make any sense of it.

~

Half an hour later, Elizabeth and Mrs Redgrave entered the corridor leading to the front door and they heard the noise of horses entering the drive. They both looked curiously out the window and saw a nondescript carriage pull up to the front. They stared in confusion as it sat there for about a minute, then just took off.

“What do you think that was?” Elizabeth asked.

“That is an old carriage that belongs to the estate. I saw it near the stables one day.”

“But why just stop and then leave?”

“I suspect your Mr Darcy wanted it to seem as if you arrived by carriage.”

“Clever!” she said, not bothering to declaim the term ‘your Mr Darcy.’ She thought it was remotely possible he could eventually be such, but even if he were just her friend, the appellation would do no harm.

They entered the breakfast parlour, and Mr Darcy glanced up, looking as innocent as a young boy about to blame the dog for some broken household item. Everyone else at the table looked startled.

“Pardon me for interrupting your breakfast, but I have come to look in on my sister.”

She was vastly amused when Mr Bingley looked entirely startled, Mr Hurst looked indifferent to anything not on his plate, and the superior sisters tried to look innocent with far less success than either Mr Darcy or that wayward puppy.

“I was not aware she was here,” Mr Bingley said, looking at his sister suspiciously.

Elizabeth wondered if Miss Bingley was eaten up with pride or just stupid. Did she really think she could keep Jane’s presence secret long enough to send her back home? She supposed if Jane were fine, she might have pulled it off, but given that she tried it, Elizabeth assumed the lady routinely manipulated her brother, and she would likely succeed.

“She became ill last night, so naturally I gave her shelter, Charles,” she said with that oily smoothness Elizabeth assumed they taught in seminary.

“And you thought I had no need to know?” he squeaked angrily.

“Why would you? She has a slight cold and will return soon. I do not ask you about your hunting, so feel no need to inform you of every little detail of our schedules.”

Elizabeth thought that was skating close to the edge, but if Miss Bingley was accustomed to manipulating her brother, and perfectly willing to assume he was oblivious, it said something about one or the other. She supposed she could keep it in mind just in case she had to speak to Jane about guarding her heart in a fortnight. That said, she was far more anxious to see Jane than to listen to them squabble.

“Pray, might I tend to her?” she said in some exasperation, and was either vexed or amused when Mr Darcy smirked (she would decide which later).

“Allow me to escort you,” he volunteered.

“We have servants for that,” Miss Bingley said in a snide tone of voice calculated to show Elizabeth that she was not worthy of the attention of anyone above a scullery maid. Elizabeth was tremendously amused by her pique.

Darcy said, “My pardon, Miss Bingley. Most of my acquaintances would not delegate such a task to a servant, but I suppose you need not maintain your home as they do.”

It seemed to Darcy like a race between Miss Bingley falling over calling for her salts and Elizabeth bursting out laughing. He felt just a bit guilty about twisting the knife, but not especially. Miss Bingley had been getting on his nerves.

“But of course, pray escort her,” Miss Bingley said with a surprisingly demure tone for someone clenching their teeth. “Take Ralston with you.”