Mr. Darcy Came to Dinner Read Online Free Page A

did you in, Mr. Darcy!”
    Darcy was angry. What sort of gentleman mocks another’s misfortune? He wanted to lash out at the old fool but refrained in deference to Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth and settled for a dry, “How amusing,” before drinking his brandy, his intense stare fully on Miss Elizabeth.
    “Cassandra is very gentle. I am sure she was frightened out of her wits!” was Miss Elizabeth’s defensive reply. “Such a big horse you ride, sir!”
    Mr. Darcy winced as he shifted on the couch. “My apologies, Miss Elizabeth, for frightening your cat.” He tried his best to keep sarcasm from creeping into his voice. He did not blame Miss Elizabeth for the mishap and hoped the girl would understand and have pity on him.
    Miss Bennet, ever the peacemaker, now broke in. “We are so sorry for your misfortune, sir. Are you in very great discomfort?”
    Finally some kindness! “Thank you, Miss Bennet. Do not concern yourself. The pain is tolerable .” Mr. Darcy’s eyes darted to Elizabeth’s at the last word, his mouth twitched into a painful grin. Surely the lady would understand the apology in his joke. The target of his attention and admiration did widen her eyes, and Darcy thought himself clever.
    During this time, Mrs. Hill gently lowered the stocking on Darcy’s left leg. “The skin is not broken, sir, and there’s no blood, but I cannot like the coloring. It’ll be black-and-blue by morning, sure as I’m born.”
    Just then there was a noise from the front of the house. “Make way! Make way, I say! The apothecary is here! Gentle cousins, make way!” The girls parted, and Mr. Collins burst into the room, followed by Mr. Hill and a third man, carrying a black bag.
    “Oh, my esteemed Mr. Darcy, here is deliverance! Here is care!” cried Mr. Collins, who turned to the third man. “Make haste, sir! Make haste!”
    The gentleman, middle-aged and rather portly, walked directly up to Darcy. “Mr. Jones, the apothecary of Meryton, at your service. May I know your name, sir?”
    “I am Mr. Darcy. Thank you for coming so quickly.” Darcy hoped the man knew his business but held no real hope. He knew he had to get word to his personal physician in Town.
    “No trouble at all,” said the apothecary. “I understand you suffered a fall from a horse?” He glanced backward as the young Bennet girls snickered again.
    “It is my leg, sir.” Darcy knew the niceties had to be followed. “Tell me, is Miss Bingley well?”
    Mr. Jones had begun to examine his leg and glanced up at the question. “I beg your pardon, sir?”
    Mr. Darcy sighed. Was the man witless? “Miss Bingley — the lady who swooned. Is she well?”
    Mr. Jones stood. “I know nothing of any lady. Is someone else ill?”
    Darcy gaped. Did no one tell the apothecary that a lady was in distress? Darcy had learned well many lessons from his father and family, and chief among those was that a lady’s comfort always came first. His earliest memories were those of his honored father taking the gentlest care of his beloved mother, who often suffered from some malady or another. Mr. Darcy had hardly left his wife’s side during her last decline and grieved her until the day he joined her in heaven. An indelible impact had been made on Darcy. Miss Bingley might be the disagreeable sister of a dear friend, but she deserved all the respect and deference due a lady of quality.
    Miss Bennet stepped forward. “Yes. Another of our guests, Miss Bingley, fainted. She is upstairs.”
    “Oh, do not concern yourself about that!” Mr. Collins cried. “This is Mr. Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire!”
    “Oh, I see.” Mr. Jones turned to Darcy. “Am I supposed to know you, sir?”
    Mr. Collins bristled. “My good man, this is the honored nephew of the esteemed Lady Catherine de Bourgh !”
    Darcy stirred himself to growl, “Enough! Mr. Jones, please see to Miss Bingley. I can wait.”
    “Mr. Darcy, I must protest!”
    “You may do so, Collins, so long