Page 15 of Hidden Desires

Laughter broke from Bingley before he caught himself and glanced at Darcy’s frown. “Perhaps a bit of both,” he admitted, looking toward the stable.

“I decided at the start of our hunt, just before I fell,” he said, scowling when his sister scoffed.

“Mr. Bennet spoke of his regret that the estate had fallen into disrepair. While I admit that I once hoped this might help me earn permission to court Miss Bennet, that is no longer the case. I intend to finish what I began.”

“I knew it,” Miss Bingley said. “All of this was a scheme to get you closer to your latest obsession. In a week, you will meet someone prettier and forget her. What will you have then? A broken estate and empty accounts.”

Bingley shook his head and made to rise, but pain seized him mid-motion and he collapsed onto the chaise, rubbing his ankle as the grimace faded.

“You are wrong on both points,” he said. “Mr. Bennet tells me Netherfield looks better now than it has in years.”

Miss Bingley laughed and gave a mocking wave over the land. “If you call this an improvement, your eyesight must be failing. Tearing the buildings apart so you can burn the wood? Unless you enjoy the sight of a bonfire, it accomplishes nothing.”

“Do you have a woodworm infestation?” Darcy asked. When Bingley nodded, he added, “That explains the fire. How bad is the problem?”

Bingley laughed and pointed toward the flames burning at the far end of the garden. “Do you remember telling me the stable doors needed repair?”

Darcy gave a single nod.

“That was the first thing Mr. Bennet examined. He meant to replace the worst sections, clean and refasten the hinges to improve their appearance and function, but the wood was not simply rotted; it was riddled with tunnels and fine dust. A colony had settled inside the doors.”

“I can understand taking them down and burning them,” Darcy said, then gestured toward the roof. “But what about the shingles? The pests usually begin in one part of a structure and work outward. It is rare for them to infest separate sections.”

“Mr. Bennet could not say for certain, but he suspects the poor condition of the shingles had something to do with it. The roof has leaked for years, and the creatures prefer damp wood, so perhaps that explains it.”

“All the more reason for us to go back to London,” Miss Bingley said. Her scorn had faded, replaced with something close to pleading. “You know life in the city is more rewarding. Please, Mr. Darcy, I am begging you. Make him see reason.”

Darcy shook his head, which brought the scowl back to her face. “I am not his governess. He has made his decision, and from what I see, he is enjoying himself.”

Bingley chuckled and reached up to clap his friend’s shoulder. “I am. The past few weeks have been among the best I can remember, with fine weather, friendly neighbors, and steady progress with the repairs.”

He shifted on the chaise and grimaced. “Even with the injury, which I caused through my own clumsiness and not through any fault of Mr. Bennet, I love it here.” He fixed his gaze on his sister as though daring her to object.

Miss Bingley let out a sharp breath and turned toward the house. “This accident has affected your brain, and not in a good way. I see no point in trying to convince you this is a mistake. You can keep your delusions. Are you coming with me, Georgie?”

Georgiana’s eyes darted to her brother, her distaste plain.

“I would rather she stay with me,” Darcy said, noting the relief on her face. “The weather is fine, and she has not seen your brother in some time. You two can speak after supper.”

“Thank you,” Georgiana mouthed as Miss Bingley passed through the hedge, her displeasure written in every step.

“She refuses to see anything good in this neighborhood,” Bingley said with a sigh. “I have tried to change her mind, but once she forms an opinion, it never shifts. She reminds me of a dear friend.”

Darcy caught the glint in his eye and saw the same amusement on Georgiana’s face. “Is it anyone I know?”

“Intimately. A man who sees only faults, even when he is surrounded by excellence.”

With a slow nod, Darcy replied, “People like that can be a trial.” He smiled at his sister, and she returned the gesture.

Bingley shook his head and laughed. “Yes, you can, but I still value your friendship.”

Darcy tried to frown at the observation, but his lips turned up instead. “Are you suggesting I am not as placid as you?”

Bingley smiled, his face that of a contented man. “My friend, you are as far from that as anyone I know.”

He touched Darcy’s arm and gestured toward the property. “Look at this place. Can you not see its beauty? I love it here. The best part is that tripping over my own feet helped me to see Netherfield’s potential.”

The sound of a door closing with force drew his attention to the house. “I’ve tried to help her see this estate through my eyes, but that is impossible. She prefers London’s crowded streets to the solitude of this place.”

Darcy chuckled and tipped his head. “And what about you? Aside from a few short visits to Pemberley, you have not spent much time on an estate. Her concern may be that you are throwing good money after bad. What happens if you grow tired of Netherfield after spending your inheritance on the property? All you will have is the satisfaction of restoring it, which is cold comfort if you find yourself begging for scraps on a London corner, while your payments keep a drunk supplied with beer.”

Bingley laughed and shook his head. “I am not that much of a fool. The lease allows me to deduct the cost of these repairs from the rent. I have recorded every shilling I’ve spent since the beginning, which reduces what I owe.

To avoid confusion, the agent and I both initialed that clause in the lease. ”

Darcy laughed and clapped his friend on the back but pulled away at the man’s sharp intake of breath.

“Forgive me,” he said, stepping aside as Bingley shifted on the lounge. “Your foresight caught me off guard, and I forgot about your injury. Which reminds me, it seems worse than you claimed.”

Bingley nodded, then glanced around as though checking they were alone. “I’ve run into some difficulty,” he said in a low voice. “Once the swelling goes down, I’ll be able to help.”

“Why not tell him what you did?” his sister, who had returned unnoticed, asked. “I am sure Mr. Darcy would love to hear why you are still in pain, despite the apothecary’s promise of a swift recovery.”

“This had nothing to do with Mr. Jones,” Bingley snapped, his sharp reply raising Darcy’s brows.

“It was my own stupid fault,” he muttered with a bitter laugh.

Miss Bingley stepped to his side and rested a hand on his shoulder, which he covered with his own. “Mr. Jones left some laudanum for the pain. Instead of shunning it, I took some.”

“Let me guess,” Darcy said, nodding as the image formed in his mind. “You felt so good you decided to help. I think I know what happened next.”

“He made it across the garden without trouble,” Miss Bingley said, her tone softening, “but the gravel on the path shifted under his foot when he stepped on it.”

Bingley laughed and patted her hand. “My ankle twisted, and I fell, though not without a good deal of yelling and pain.”

“The noise brought Mr. Bennet running. He carried Charles back to the house by himself and sent for the apothecary.”

“Who, I assume, was not pleased with your antics,” Darcy said, unable to hide his grin.

“It seems you owe Mr. Bennet a debt of gratitude, both for rescuing you and for overseeing these repairs. The first thing I want to ask the gentleman is why you keep hurting yourself. If there is time, we might even speak about the work you have somehow convinced him to take on.”

His friend crossed his arms and peered at him, a playful light in his eyes. “As luck would have it,” he said, smiling, “he is coming for supper on Friday.”

A stab of fear pierced Darcy’s chest. “I suppose your invitation included more than Mr. Bennet and his wife,” he said, doing his best to hide his unease.

Bingley nodded, as though he could hear every thought racing through his friend’s mind. “Yes, the entire family is coming. So please, try not to insult anyone this time. We do not need a repeat of your first meeting with Miss Elizabeth.”

Darcy drew a breath and steadied himself. “I wonder if I should call at his estate first and offer my apologies to him and his daughter.”

Miss Bingley brightened at once and smiled, as though the suggestion had come from royalty. “A wise decision, Mr. Darcy. Charles can write a letter of introduction and, because I am acquainted with the man, I will accompany you.”

Darcy pressed his lips together and waited for the dismay to pass. The last person he wished to bring along, no matter how short the ride, was Bingley’s sister.

“Or you could wait until he arrives in the morning,” Bingley offered, his eyes lit with amusement. “He usually appears before noon, and if your habits remain unchanged, that is about when you return from that walk you take every morning.”

Darcy nearly laughed at Miss Bingley’s disappointment. If not for her brother shaking his head in silent plea, he might have done so.

“A fine idea,” he said, working to keep the humor from his voice. “I will watch for him and try to avoid excess groveling. It will be difficult, but if that keeps the peace at supper, I can manage.”

Bingley burst into laughter, then winced and drew a sharp breath.

“Mr. Bennet is not one who takes offense at every slight his daughters suffer, real or imagined. When I brought it up, he laughed and told me not to worry. I do not know whether Miss Elizabeth complained, but if she did, he didn’t seem to care. ”

Darcy nodded and turned toward the house. “If he doesn’t mention it when I introduce myself tomorrow, I might not either. That depends on how the conversation unfolds,” he said over his shoulder, guiding Georgiana across the garden.

“Until then,” he called from the garden door, “my sister and I need to rest.”