Page 23 of A Christmas Understanding

Bingley eyed the paper sceptically. “You believe I ought not go?”

“I have not changed my opinion. There are drawbacks to aligning yourself with the Bennets, and you must speak to Miss Bennet about her feelings for you, but as long as you make your choice knowingly, I will of course support you.”

It was unfortunate, but at least neither his friend nor his sister would ever have to know his hopes for them. Georgiana was a few years from coming out, and a great deal could happen in that time.

“Then my sisters knew. And you. What of Hurst?”

“He heard, but I rather doubt he thought much about it.”

“At least you are all consistent. Hurst is entirely uninterested, and the rest of you do not believe I can be trusted to make a good decision.” He took the paper from Darcy but walked to the window without opening it. “You kept this information from me for four days.”

“I have not read the letter. It was sent to your sister, and the contents of private correspondence ought not be revealed by anyone other than the recipient.” Darcy knew, however, that there was no excuse other than his own self-interest. “But I did keep the information I had learned from you. And you have my apology for that.”

Bingley turned his head to blink at Darcy, but he remained silent.

Darcy found this response somewhat excessive. “You need not appear so astonished, Bingley.”

“I do not ever recall you apologising for anything before.”

“I have apologised.”

“When?”

He could not immediately recall the occasion, but of course he had done so. No one was always in the right.

“Tell me, Darcy. Do you oppose Miss Bennet because you believe her family objectionable, or because you intended me for your sister?”

“What?”

“You really are terrible at deception, Darcy,” Bingley said. “Even if you were better at it, my sisters are constantly on about how accomplished Miss Darcy is and how delightful—true, of course, but rather obviously meant to guide me. Did you all think me too obtuse to notice?”

Darcy had not said a single thing himself, but Bingley was rather good at knowing what Darcy was thinking. It was usually something he appreciated, for he was not a man of many words. In this case, however, it was terribly inconvenient.

“I will admit to considering a match at some future date,” he said hesitantly.

“While I thank you for the compliment, Darcy, your sister is just sixteen. It would be a very distant date.”

He accepted this rebuke in silence.

Bingley finally opened the paper, read the number, and folded it again. “I believe you meant to protect me,” he said. “But that does not make it right.”

“No,” Darcy agreed. “It does not.”

“Nor to keep such things to yourself because you think it best. You must tell the entire truth and allow the person whom it most nearly involves to make their own decision.”

“I shall not do so again, Bingley.”

“Now,” Bingley said with a sigh, “I only need a reason to call. For if I present myself at their door and ask to see Miss Bennet on my own, I doubt I shall be admitted. And neither Caroline nor Louisa will agree to accompany me, I am certain.”

There was a knock on the door, and Bingley’s man entered with a note for him.

“This just arrived from Mr. Hurst, sir. The boy said it was urgent.”

Bingley reached out to take it. “Hurst never finds anything urgent.” He broke the seal and read in silence, his faint amusement disappearing as he read.

“Bingley?” Darcy asked, concerned. “What is it?”

“Caroline,” he said, his brows pinching together. “She has been injured.”