Knowing that Darcy had to be close by to see when the doctor left, Bingley left his horse to the stables and wandered the grounds, looking for signs of his friend's presence. After a few minutes of searching, he found him dozing beneath an arbor of climbing roses. The foliage would prevent anyone from the house from spotting him while still allowing Darcy a view of the front door.
As Bingley mistakenly stepped upon a twig, Darcy jerked awake, looking frantically towards the sound.
"Bingley!" Darcy exclaimed, attempting to jump to his feet but only succeeding in wincing his way upwards. Darcy's usually immaculate clothing was wrinkled and dirty; the knees and rear of his breeches damp with soil. His cravat was dangling loose around his neck and Bingley could swear there were the remnants of leaves in his hair.
In short, Darcy looked like a madman.
"My God, man!" Bingley snapped, "What possessed you to go about like… this!" He gestured at Darcy's dishevelment.
Darcy looked down and away, not able to meet Bingley's eyes with his customary confidence.
"I… I could not leave. I had to know…" Darcy said quietly, rubbing his stained hands down his thighs.
"And what of Wickham?" Bingley continued, "Is he decaying in the woods, waiting for an unfortunate hunter to report his fate to the magistrate? You'll be hung for murder if you don't bring all this to light before someone else does!"
At this, Darcy finally met his eyes, his jaw tight.
"I took care of my responsibilities," Darcy said lowly, "The body has been removed and the proper authorities told of the circumstances."
"Ah," Bingley said, rather taken aback, "Good, good. You… Did you have to mention the Bennet's involvement in the matter?"
"It was necessary to give some reason for the…" Darcy grimaced, "I merely told Colonel Foster and the magistrate that the three ladies were walking home when he accosted them. When it was evident that the man's intentions were nefarious, Miss Catherine ran home for help. You and I, visiting at the time, of course went to their aid. We came upon the man and he had already injured both Miss Elizabeth and Miss Lydia, so I went to restrain him while you helped the ladies. Regrettably, he was not content to submit and we came to blows, ending in his… unfortunate… demise."
Bingley nodded.
"Tis close enough to the truth," he agreed, "and I see no reason that anyone need know all. Not the least for Miss Elizabeth's sake."
"No, for her modesty and reputation," Darcy ran a shaky hand across his eyes, "what nearly happened should never come to light."
"I would wish that it was hidden even from Miss Elizabeth and her family, as I know it will be a burden to them. What nearly occurred…" Bingley shuddered, "I can't imagine it will be something to set aside lightly."
Darcy nodded, looking towards Longbourn's firmly shut front door.
"Have you been to see them?" Darcy asked, his voice tight, "Is there any news?"
"I have seen the youngest three ladies, the rest of the family being upstairs. There is no news yet to be had, though I understand Miss Elizabeth had a difficult night." Bingley said.
"But then," Bingley's voice turned sharp, "you already knew that. What could you be thinking, haunting Longbourn house like some specter? And then poor Miss Mary, you nearly frightened her out of her wits! After all her sisters had been through, did you think a man grabbing her in the dark would do anything less than terrorize her?" Bingley berated, stepping toward Darcy almost threateningly.
Darcy looked at his normally affable friend in surprise.
"I… I have no excuse for alarming Miss Mary," Darcy acceded, "I had not thought of frightening her. I needed to know how Miss Elizabeth faired. I had to know!"
"Why is she so important to you?" Bingley asked, sudden clarity bringing a frown to his face, "And, why, may I ask, did you tell Miss Mary that Mr. Bennet will not see you? Has this to do with your flight from their residence yesterday?"
"I… I…" Darcy stuttered, taking a step back, his face falling.
"Do you have designs on Miss Elizabeth?" Bingley asked bluntly.
"Yes… No… I don't…" Darcy said as he started to pace, his hands running through his hair restlessly, "I am attracted to her, undoubtedly. But I did not want to raise false hopes." He looked over at Bingley. "You know how unsuitable her connections to trade are; how outrageous her family is. I could never marry her."
Bingley pursed his lips.
"Unsuitable connections? How do I fit in with your unsuitable connections? And her family? Jane smiles too much, Mrs. Bennet is concerned for her daughters, the younger girls are children and act like it! What of it?"
Darcy looked genuinely confused and taken aback.
"I am, as always, your friend, Bingley. And… you… I think you have the right of it. 'My abominable pride' indeed. Mr. Bennet was quite within his rights to throw me out on my ear when I told him I loved Elizabeth." Darcy said the last almost to himself.
Bingley gasped.
"You WHAT?" Bingley said, "In the midst of all this you choose to tell her father you love her? I know you have said no such thing to her! Blast it, man, we all thought you couldn't stand one another!"
Darcy grimaced and hunched his shoulders.
"Yes, so I've been told," he whispered, "She abhors me. I have done nothing to gain her good opinion, and more than enough to gather her reproach."
Bingley wiped a hand over his face, sighing in exasperation.
"Let's move past this, for now," Bingley said, "You need a bath, a shave, and some sleep in a real bed."
Darcy opened his mouth to press his case when Bingley raised a hand, cutting him off.
"No, I will not have anything less! You cannot act in this… lovelorn foolishness any longer," Bingley's eyes narrowed, "You WILL depart with me and you WILL not return until you are suitably rested and attired. I will visit the Bennets again this afternoon and find out what the doctor's prognosis is. If you had given it a moment's rational thought you would have come to me at the first instead of terrifying Miss Mary and making a cake of yourself!"
Darcy hung his head and meekly nodded, following Bingley home, though not without a forlorn look back at Elizabeth's window.
