The fire crackled cheerfully in the drawing room, casting a golden glow upon the assembled guests. The tea service hadbeen set out with delicate china cups and plates of ginger biscuits, seed cake, and sugared walnuts. Elizabeth poured a cup for Jane and had just taken her seat when the butler announced their visitors.
“Mr. Sanderson, Mr. Denny, and Mr. Pratt, ma’am.”
Lydia and Kitty perked up at once. “Oh! Pratt, do come sit here,” Lydia called with a coquettish tilt of her head. Kitty followed suit with a coy smile toward Denny, and the four soon gathered near the hearth, deep in talk of ribbons, the Meryton assembly, and the scandal of Miss Carter’s ruined slippers.
Sanderson, however, approached Mary with purpose, and with a gentlemanly bow, asked leave to join her in the window alcove. Mary, cheeks tinged with color, nodded shyly and led the way.
Elizabeth caught her eye briefly, then moved to intercept her mother, who was about to follow. “Mama, will you sit beside me? I was just about to ask your opinion on the color of the new ribbon I received.”
“Oh yes, dear. Let me see. Was it the one trimmed with lace? Or the one with the narrow border?” Mrs. Bennet seated herself eagerly, and thus began a prolonged discussion on trimmings, lace widths, and which colors best suited which complexions.
Time passed. Elizabeth kept one ear for her mother, the other attuned to the window, where Mary and Sanderson sat deep in conversation. She noticed with some satisfaction that neither had touched their tea. At length, he rose and offered his hand. Mary accepted, and together they slipped discreetly from the room.
Mrs. Bennet remained oblivious, still discoursing upon the superiority of embroidered muslin over plain, when Jane entered, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips.
“Elizabeth,” Jane murmured, coming to her sister’s side. “Papa has a visitor, and I have been expelled from the study. Iwas in the midst of making a fair copy of Mama’s receipts, but apparently, they may only be transcribed under supervision.”
“That is true!” Mrs. Bennet chirped. “They are for daughters’ hands only, and only when I or your father may oversee. We cannot have them slipping into just anyone’s possession. But who is visiting your father?” she added, setting her teacup down with a light clink. “Surely one of the officers? Oh! They are surely asking for Kitty's or Lydia's hand!"
Before Elizabeth or Jane could reply, Mr. Bennet entered the drawing room, spectacles still perched upon his nose and a rare smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Mary and Sanderson followed. Elizabeth caught Mary’s eye; her sister said nothing but gave a slight nod, her pleasure evident.
“My dear,” he said to Mrs. Bennet with theatrical calm, “a very proper young gentleman has just asked for our Mary’s hand in marriage. I was so startled by the novelty of such a request that I nearly refused him outright, but in the end, I gave both my consent and my blessing.”
Mrs. Bennet’s eyes widened. “Mary?” she gasped. “Mary engaged?”
“Indeed,” Mr. Bennet replied, clearly relishing the moment. “They will wed before the militia quits the neighborhood. He has already secured lodgings, and, as it happens, his term will end this summer. They shall remove to his family’s estate afterward.”
Sanderson pressed a brief kiss to Mary’s hand.
At this, Mrs. Bennet shrieked with joy. “Oh! Mary! Engaged! Oh, I knew it. I always said she was the most serious of my girls. A paragon of virtue! Oh, how clever she is!”
Later that evening, as the house settled into calm, Mary and Jane joined Elizabeth in her chamber, each clutching a warmed brick wrapped in cloth to keep their toes from the chill.
“Well?” Elizabeth asked as she began to plait her hair.
Mary looked uncommonly pleased. “He is a younger son, but his father has a small estate set aside—one he shall inherit after his militia service ends. It brings in nearly a thousand pounds a year. And it is in Cheshire. Oh sisters, I am sorry to leave all my family behind!”
Jane’s manner warmed with approval. “That is quite respectable! But never fear, Mary. Charles has been searching for an estate in the North. Perhaps we shall be neighbors.”
This appeased their sister, and she relaxed. “There is more,” Mary proudly continued, almost whispering. “His mother left him a modest inheritance when he was a boy. It has remained untouched in the four percents for over a decade.”
Elizabeth gave a low whistle as she moved to join her sisters upon the bed. “Well then! That is a fine, prudent arrangement.”
“I shall be very comfortable and very happy,” Mary said. “He is often overlooked because he is reserved and does not mix like the other officers. But as it turns out, he has more consequence than all of them.”
Elizabeth couldn’t resist. She clasped her hands dramatically and mimicked Lydia’s lilt: “What a good joke!”
All three gave way to laughter, warm and unchecked, echoing against the bedchamber walls like music.
“If only everyone could be this happy,” Jane mused, resting her head upon Elizabeth's shoulder.
“Perhaps you will be next, Elizabeth,” Mary murmured. She shifted closer, and Elizabeth wrapped an arm around her. "Tomorrow is Twelfth Night. Only a few short hours and you will have your answer—if Providence is kind.” Mary yawned. “I do not believe you will be left in suspense. This gentleman of yours has shown his admiration sufficiently to dispel any doubts."
Elizabeth did not reply, praying silently that her sister would be proven correct in the morning.And if she is not?Whisperedthe contrary voice in her mind.Well,she answered,then I shall face that when it comes.
Eventually, they kissed each other goodnight and withdrew to their own chambers. Elizabeth extinguished her candle, the embers in the grate casting a flickering glow across the ceiling as she lay back upon her pillow. Shadows played along the walls, soothing as her eyes fluttered. She tucked one arm behind her head as she rolled onto her back, staring upward at the dark canopy above.
Tomorrow,she thought, her heart thudding as the image of Darcy filled her mind—tall and silent, eyes searching hers, his words weighted with feeling. Tomorrow,it all ends. Or begins.She smiled to herself, her eyes drifting shut.Please,she prayed.Let it begin.
