Page 55 of Stuck

“Darcy, this thing with Bingley… You need to know. We… It’s…” She let out an exasperated sigh. “The thing is, he asked me to⁠—”

Then there he was. Bingley. Yanking back the curtain and charging into the treatment bay like a knight in shining bloody armour.

“Elizabeth, I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”

I stood up and backed into the corner to give them space. He leant down and kissed her on the cheek, whispering something in her ear. The smile that his words put on her face nearly cut me in two. She looked relieved. At the comfort he’d given her.

He asked me to⁠—

Her words sank in at last. Asked her to what? Marry him? Were they engaged? My stomach plummeted.

“Darcy, I can’t thank you enough.”

I blinked and focused my eyes on Bingley, now standing in front of me with one arm around Elizabeth’s waist and the other extended towards me. I shook it, numbly.

“We need to talk,” he said seriously, “but I need to get Elizabeth home first. I’ll call you.”

“Of course,” I mumbled. “I hope you feel better soon, Elizabeth.”

“Thank you.” She smiled at me—a complex expression that was guilt and gratitude and a host of other things I couldn’t and didn’t want to understand all painted onto one beautiful mouth.

Something in my chest cracked as I watched them walk out together. I’d never felt anything like this before. Jealousy so intense it burnt. Want so powerful it consumed me. Guilt heavy enough to suffocate me. Sheer hopelessness.

I picked up my jacket from where I’d slung it over the back of the chair and walked outside to my car.

“Just you, sir?” Trent asked as I slid into the back.

“Yes.”

Very much so.

“To the flat?”

“Briefly. I need to pack a bag. Then I need you to take me to Pemberley.”

24

ELIZABETH

“Jane’s waiting in the car.”

The words Bingley had whispered in my ear as soon as he arrived had loosened the largest of many knots tying up my insides. Not because I wanted Jane there for moral support, which was… new. She’d always been my go-to hand-holder whenever I was being a wimp about cuts and scrapes as a kid. She was the calmest head in our whole family, far better suited to crises than my skittish mum, overly dramatic youngest sisters, or Mary, who was only ever irritated by other people’s carelessness. I couldn’t remember a single time when I hadn’t wanted my big sister by my side when I was hurt.

Until tonight. Tonight, I’d had Darcy. Compared to his steadfastly calming presence, Jane’s serenity looked like a full-blown panic attack. Everything, from the authoritative way he insisted on taking me to the hospital, to his gentle voice and steadying hands when I practically face-planted into his chest in the treatment bay, had given me an overwhelming sense of well-being. A certainty that everything would be taken care of. Including me.

Given that I’d spent most of the evening trying not to barf, cry, or spin out, I couldn’t have been more grateful that he hadn’t expected me to chat much. He’d known when I needed to sit quietly. Just as he’d been able to tell every time I felt panic creeping over me and had distracted me with questions. He hadn’t once made me feel stupid for being grossed out by the sight of my own blood. He hadn’t even let things get weird when, in my pain, I’d blurted out that his body was a temple, though I’d definitely felt enough mortification for the both of us and the rest of the population of the UK. He hadn’t expected anything of me; he’d simply stayed, looking beautiful and intense and concerned. About me. I’d been more affected by that than I think he realised—and I hadn’t wished once that Jane was there to hold my hand.

There was a very different reason she’d been on my mind all evening. The same reason I hadn’t called Bingley to tell him I was in A&E. He really had been at dinner with his mum and sisters, but Jane had been with them, I hoped mending relations and finding a way forwards after their argument. It was a delicate situation, with the potential to either make or break their relationship. With their future happiness hanging in the balance, my unfailing ability to cause myself bodily harm could not have struck at a worse time. Mary’s eyes would probably roll right out of her head when she heard about it.

It had been inevitable that Darcy would eventually cave and call Bingley himself, but I’d held him off as long as possible, dreading that it would be the final nail in the coffin for Jane. Way to convince the Bingleys that her family was normal—interrupt their reconciliation dinner with a summons to rescue her dumbass sister from the hospital and—oops!—Bingley can’t refuse to go with her because his boss thinks I’m his girlfriend!

Yet, with his whispered assurance that Jane was with him, I’d known they were going to be all right. The thing was, as my worry for them ebbed and my banging headache worsened, my anger was starting to pick up. I was in the back of Bingley’s car, watching the bustling Friday-night crowds piling into bars and restaurants lining the river as he drove us home along the Embankment. Jane was in the passenger seat next to him, and they were whispering earnestly to each other, their clasped hands resting on the central console and Bingley’s eyes on her more often than they were on the road. They’d given up peppering me with questions when I told them I felt sick, but in truth, I was more mad than nauseous.

Yes, they’d had a huge argument, but they were fine. Like they’d been fine for the last month, living it up in luxury Scottish hotels while I did all the leg work for their subterfuge. Bingley had promised over and over again that he’d talk to Darcy, yet over and over again, he’d found excuses not to.

Admittedly, so had I, up to and including tonight, when I’d selfishly held my tongue for fear that he’d leave otherwise. I couldn’t imagine a scenario where he wouldn’t, because what person in their right mind would consent to hang around, being that unbelievably sweet to a flagrant liar?

There had been a couple of times when my nausea had abated and my courage had risen enough that the confession had spilled onto my tongue, but I’d swallowed it back every time. I’d wanted him to stay, because… I liked him. I more than liked him, in fact.