“But you will not be a soldier,” Elizabeth said cheerfully. “A husband and landowner must tend his hearth!”
“I shall write to Father directly tomorrow,” Lord Saye promised. “See if he cannot get things moving on the sale of your commission.”
“The war cannot go on much longer,” Mr Darcy added. “And Stink Hall needs you.”
“I think an engagement might be a bit…hasty,” the colonel said urgently. “And as much as I admire?—”
“But thewager,” Elizabeth pressed. “It was for an offer of marriage, yes?”
“Absolutely,” Lord Saye added. “That was the wager, for Miss Elizabeth’s hand in marriage.”
The colonel gave him a slight frown. “I think there has been some...confusion?—”
“And now you have won, just as you wished to,” Elizabeth concluded brightly.
He was caught. Even in the darkness, one could see the colour of his complexion had darkened. He seemed not to know what to say next. Elizabeth looked over her shoulder at Darcy, thinking he should be the one to finish it off.
Darcy stepped close to his cousin and leant in, speaking in low tones into the colonel’s ear. Elizabeth heard little of it but did hear a few words that caused her to raise her eyebrows. For such a proper gentleman, Darcy certainly was adept at knowing when to put propriety aside.
His words raised the colonel’s eyebrows, too. Pulling away from his cousin, he said, “Faith, Darcy, do you kiss your sister with that mouth?”
Darcy smiled and looked very satisfied with himself. He stepped back and pulled Elizabeth against his side. “I shall tell you whom I do kiss with this mouth. My intended wife.” And then he smiled down at Elizabeth and did just that.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“What isthis?”
The screech could be heard, Elizabeth imagined, in St Albans. She had gone to her mother’s room alone, dressed in the lace gown, in the hope of both lessening Mrs Bennet’s shock and dampening her reaction to the change. “Mama, Jane decided she wished for a simpler gown and I?—”
Mrs Bennet stood abruptly, and her maid, who had been halfway through dressing her hair, yelped as the curls fell out of her hands. “To marry in some sort of common-looking gown?—”
“Is what Jane wants,” Elizabeth finished firmly. “Mama, Bingley hates lace!”
Mrs Bennet observably thought about that. “No, he does not,” she decided. “I have seen the lace on Miss Bingley’s gowns, and I do not care what you think of her, she is a very elegant woman, always well dressed?—”
“Yes, but Bingley does not choose her gowns, does he? And he would hardly wish for his wife to look like his sisters, would he?”
Mrs Bennet opened her mouth to protest but then closed it again.
“And I hear that Mr Darcy quite likes lace,” she continued. “Alotof lace.”
In truth, Darcy had no opinion on lace, in abundance or not. He had not truly seen the problem with Jane’s original gown but thought it a fine example of sisterly affection that Elizabeth had switched for her sister’s happiness.
“We all know that Mr Darcy has no good opinion of you,” Mrs Bennet retorted. As she said so, she sank back into her seat and gestured to the maid to continue with her hair. From that, Elizabeth thought the matter mostly settled.
“I have reason to think he might have changed his mind,” she replied. “Who knows? If I wear a gown he thinks elegant…” She gave a little shrug and tried to look exaggeratedly hopeful.
“Oh, Lizzy.” Mrs Bennet sighed. “It is so like you to need to follow in Jane’s footsteps! I do not see that you can reasonably expect a man like Mr Darcy to have his head turned just because he sees you done up in a bit of extra lace. After all—if he was truly so fond of lace, he could have had Miss Bingley quite some time ago!”
That her mother would say such things had ceased to sting years ago, but it did not follow that it did not vex her. “That is true,” Elizabeth conceded. “Nevertheless, I really do think I might have a chance. Perhaps enough of a chance to place a wager upon it?”
Mrs Bennet glanced at her in the mirror. “You want to bet me?”
“Not a real wager. Nothing of any significance,” Elizabeth replied nonchalantly. “But what if I said that should I ever find myself engaged to Mr Darcy, I shall be permitted to have any small nothing of a wedding I should wish for.”
“Small nothing of a wedding?” Mrs Bennet snorted. “My dear, you have no idea… Why, these people of thetonhave fivehundred people lined up outside St George’s! Grand balls and dinners and all manner of celebration and?—”
“Supposing I could secure him, then that would be the wedding I insist on. A wedding by licence, perhaps even in his house in town.”
