“Shall I meet her before the wedding?”
“I should like that very much. I have long desired that you be introduced. Would you like to go to London?”
“Never mind whether she would like it—she must go,” came a strident interruption.
With an apologetic look at Darcy, Elizabeth turned to her mother, whose conversation with Mrs Philips had evidently not precluded her eavesdropping on everybody else’s.
“And Jane must go too,” Mrs Bennet added, “for you must both have trousseaus and new gowns and?—”
“There are plenty of shops nearby where we can purchase what we need,” Jane said, disrupted from her own conversation with Bingley by her mother’s vociferous decree.
“Not of the quality that?—”
“Actually, the reason for my visit was to meet Miss Darcy,” Elizabeth interrupted before her mother could embarrass them further.
“If you wish to purchase some new gowns while you are there, it can certainly be arranged,” Darcy offered.
“Let us all go!” Bingley blurted.
“Lizzy and Mr Darcy wish to spend time with his sister,” Jane demurred. “We might do well to remain here and spend some time with yours.”
“Well, yes…although I do need to find an attorney to draw up the articles for the wedding.”
“My Uncle Philips could do that.”
“Oh, certainly, he would be honoured!” Mrs Philips agreed.
“Right then. We had better stay here,” Bingley conceded, a little disappointedly, Elizabeth thought.
“He had better work more quickly than he usually does,” Mrs Bennet said to her sister, “for Mr Darcy has told Mr Bennet he wishes to wed before his cousin’s ball in July, and if Jane and Mr Bingley are not ready, he may very well like to be married first.”
“I would not steal Bingley’s place at the altar, madam,” Darcy said with strained forbearance.
“Why not all stand up together?” said Bingley. “We are invited to Lord Ashby’s ball as well,” he explained, indicating Jane and himself. “It makes sense that we should all be married beforehand. Darcy and I planned to stand up for each other in any case.”
“What think you, Jane?” Elizabeth enquired, delighted by the prospect of sharing such a wondrous occasion with her dearest sister. She worried, for a fleeting moment, that Jane looked a little distressed, but then her mother pounced upon the idea with gusto, informing everybody how it would be; and after that, no one else’s opinion mattered.
Elizabeth turned to Darcy. “Do you mind?”
“I care not where or how we are married as long as wearemarried—and soon.” He looked away briefly, as though searching for something, then reached to pluck a leaf from the rosebush growing near the church wall. He pressed it into her palm and brought her hand to his lips to kiss the backs of her fingers.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“I love you, Elizabeth. I made a poor job of showing it before. I shall not make the same mistake again.”
“No, indeed,” she said, lifting her closed fist and her leaf with it to her heart. “You are proving yourself to be quite the romantic.”
He chuckled slightly. “I see you intend to exaggerate my good qualities also.”
“I thought I would attempt it, since exaggerating your bad ones proved so disastrous.”
Tuesday 16 June 1812, Kent
Charlotte Collins had only just read the letter informing her of Elizabeth’s engagement when she looked up to espy Lady Catherinede Bourgh storming down the lane towards the parsonage at a startling rate for one her age, her cane spraying gravel in all directions each time it struck the ground. She leapt to her feet, stumbling over a chair in her haste.
“Mr Collins!Mr Collins!”
“What is the matter?” he enquired testily as he came into the room.
