Bingley turned from the window, where he had been observing the swirling leaves and swaying boughs. His housekeeper had just completed her report on the latest measures taken to aid Caroline.
“Very good,” Bingley said. “I know you have been kept busy all morning. Be assured the extra work will not last much longer. Once Miss Bingley is able to sleep, she will rest most of the day and need little attention. Her maid is used to these infrequent bouts of illness and will seek whatever help is required.
“As for the rest of us, we shall shift for ourselves until tea or perhaps even dinner. Something simple shall suffice. Mr. and Mrs. Hurst may wish to dine in their rooms.
“All the staff are to have the afternoon off as much as possible, or at least to be in no hurry as they work. That includes you,” he said, smiling. “I wish you had better weather for this impromptu half-holiday. That wind looks fierce,” he said, nodding towards the window. Indeed, they could hear it on occasion.
Bingley dismissed the housekeeper and was surprised to see Miss Bennet peeking into his study. “Come in!” he said. He watched with pleasure as she nodded to the retreating servant and walked towards him, looking for all the world as if she belonged in this house as its mistress.
“Do you have any plans for the day?” Bingley asked.
“I was going to ask you the same,” she said.
“I should like to spend as much time with you as possible,” Bingley said.
Jane averted her eyes, and a slow smile spread across her face. The smile was suddenly checked, and she said, “I should not like to keep you from your work.”
He followed her gaze to the untidy collection of unopened letters on his desk and frowned. “I am a tad behind in my correspondence.”
Jane faced him and lifted her head a little, as if in resolution. “You have had to host my sister and me unexpectedly,” she said. “It is only fair that I help if I can—that is, if you do not find the offer presumptuous?”
“Not at all!” Bingley was taken aback but perfectly amenable to her suggestion. “I admit I am not quite ready to tie myself to a chair and write for the next hour. We just got up from breakfast, after all.”
“Shall we sort the letters first? Then perhaps we can find something else to do for half an hour before returning to compose whatever replies are required. I would be pleased to write at your dictation if you wish to be spared the trouble of writing yourself.”
“Do you mean it?” He had not believed there could be anything romantic about dispatching his business correspondence, but the sweetness of Jane's offer made him reconsider. “You are an angel, my dear!”
“From something Lizzy told me, I concluded that letter writing is not among your favourite things.”
“You are right. Did she tell you how Darcy and Caroline teased me about my style, or lack thereof, the other night?” He grinned when she nodded. “I am often in such a hurry to be done that my efforts look no better than a schoolboy's.”
“My handwriting is neat enough. Let me repay you for your hospitality.” Jane walked over to the letters and stretched out her hand but did not touch them. “Shall we begin? Unless there are some I ought not to see?”
“I cannot imagine there would be.”
With Jane by his side, the letters were soon opened and set in orderly stacks. Bingley could not recall having enjoyed the task more.
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