Bingley had been dressed for some time before he ventured out of his room. He had heard footsteps outside his door again and again. Assured by the lack of any summons to himself that nothing of an alarming nature had occurred, at last he opened his door just enough to glance about.
The activity was centred down the corridor. At times there were moans coming from that direction. Caroline must have a megrim, poor girl, though a few of those moans sounded like something else entirely. In any case, that explained the flow of servants. It was always the same with Caroline: whenever her head pained her, she ordered one thing after another, rejecting half outright and the remainder after a moment's consideration. In the past, servants had learnt to complete their useless tasks as quickly and quietly as possible. They knew the bustle would not last forever. At length his sister would sleep, and the staff would release a collective sigh, no doubt. Caroline would rest well into the evening, take dinner in her room, and be perfectly recovered the next day. Bingley hoped it would be the same this time.
When the footsteps ceased to be heard, Bingley took a quick look down the passage, smiled at the emptiness of it, and made his way downstairs.
Breakfast had an unusually cheery aspect, which suited his feelings. Perhaps it was the sight of some of his favourites on the sideboard.
Darcy was at the table before him, and even his aspect was less severe than usual. He and Darcy had barely exchanged greetings when Jane and her sister entered the room, deep in conversation. They stopped to greet the gentlemen amiably enough, but they retained serious countenances.
“Does something trouble you, ladies?” Bingley could not help asking.
The girls looked at each other, and Bingley saw Jane nod at Miss Elizabeth, or Lizzy, as he thought of her, for that was what Jane called her.
It was Lizzy who spoke. “We wished to send a note to Longbourn to request the carriage today, but the servants all seemed unusually busy, and we did not wish to distract them from their duties.”
“I am happy to say I feel well enough to return home,” Jane added, looking directly at him and making his heart race. “I should not impose upon your hospitality any longer, sir.”
“But surely it is too soon!” Bingley cried as her words sank in. This would not do! “Are you certain you would not be risking your health?”
Jane—dear Jane—insisted she was well, and the more she did, the less Bingley could countenance her going.
“Miss Liz—Miss Elizabeth,” Bingley said, correcting himself, “your sister will listen to you, will she not? Do convince her to put aside any thought of leaving!”
“Oh, my dear sir!” said Jane, visibly affected by his vehemence. “I should not wish to cause you trouble. If it is inconvenient—”
“It is a matter of my sanity, not merely convenience,” said Bingley with a laugh. “My dear lady, if you care at all for my welfare, do not abandon me today of all days.” He smiled at her. She was such a beautiful woman, and not just because of her face.
“Today of all days?” Lizzy repeated.
“Caroline has a megrim. A rather bad migraine from the sound of it,” Bingley said in explanation.
“Does she?” Jane said at once. “I am a poor guest indeed! I had not even inquired about her. I hope her illness will not be of long duration.”
“She will rest soon enough, but I doubt you will see her today. You may not see Louisa either, for she is not fond of serving as hostess.” Bingley leaned closer to Jane. “If you leave just now, I shall have to follow you to Longbourn. The house will feel too empty without you.”
Bingley heard Darcy murmur something he could not make out. He glanced at his friend and saw him struggling to keep his remarks to himself. Then he happened to notice Lizzy's face. He almost laughed at the similarity of her expression to Darcy's. His angel, in contrast, looked upon him with the sweetest compassion.
“I suppose,” Jane said hesitantly, “it would be courteous to stay until I can take leave of my hostess properly and assure myself of her good health.”
“Mr. Bingley, I congratulate you,” said Lizzy, pulling his attention from her sister. “Jane is always firm where she knows herself to be right, and she considered it right to depart Netherfield now that she is well. Yet you have her grasping at excuses to stay.” Lizzy smiled a delightful smile. “Even I cannot convince her to change her mind once she has made it up. I would ask you what your secret is, but I suspect it would not do me any good.”
“Lizzy!” said an adorably mortified Jane. Bingley knew Jane was kind enough to genuinely care about Caroline, but Lizzy knew that as well, and Lizzy had implied there was more to Jane's feelings than kindness. So she liked him that much, eh? Perhaps by the end of the day, with no Caroline and Louisa in company to distract and disparage her or to contradict and cajole him, Jane would like him even more. Carefree by nature, Charles Bingley, in an uncharacteristic move, began to make plans in earnest.
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