“We will help you.”
Everyone nodded, and Anne added one last thought. “Oh, and Cousin… try not to stuff it up this time.”
Longbourn
“Mama, look! There is a very elegant coach in the drive.”
Kitty sat in the window seat trying to think of something diverting to do. The militia was to depart for Brighton in less than a month, and Colonel Forster kept the officers busy from dawn to dusk. She had tried all the usual remedies and become almost desperate enough to read a book or talk to Mary, but nothing worked until she saw the equipage.
Mary, tired for once of reading the same old book of sermons and making abstracts, looked from the window with her sister to see a chaise and four drive up. It was too late in the day for visitors, and the equipage did not answer to that of any neighbour. The horses were very fine, and neither the carriage nor the servant’s livery was familiar.
“Ooohhhh! It must be Mr Bingley. We are saved!”
Mrs Bennet was in fine form, doubtless imagining the wayward suitor returned from his mysterious business in town, for surely Jane could not be so beautiful for nothing.
The mistress smiled for a moment, then turned cross. “Oh, but Jane is not here. What will he think? Oh, why did I send her to town—wretched, wretched mistake.”
“If it is Mr Bingley, Mama,” Mary said, “he would think what any sensible man would; namely that Jane was either here or elsewhere, and if he wanted to speak with her, he could just go to that other place. Of course, that presupposes him a sensible man when all evidence suggests the contrary.”
“Oh, none of your prattling, Mary. You sound worse than Lizzy.”
“It is simple logic, and I shall take the comparison to Lizzy as a compliment, so thank you.”
“Hush, you!”
Mary might have felt bad about being shushed like a child, but after a dozen years of such treatment, she no longer noticed. She turned back to the window.
“That is not Mr Bingley’s coach. I saw it one day in Meryton.”
“Perhaps he acquired a new one.”
“No, Mama. The driver and footman are liveried, and it does not match Mr Bingley’s. I am certain this is not he.”
The speculation resolved itself when the footman jumped from the back to open the door.
“There is a gentleman stepping down now, Mama,” said Kitty. “Who can it be?”
“Some acquaintance of your father or other, my dear, I suppose; I am sure I do not know.”
“La!” replied Kitty. “It looks just like that man that used to be with Mr Bingley before. Mr what’s-his-name. That tall, proud man. The one Lizzy was always arguing with—even when they were dancing.”
“Good gracious! Mr Darcy! And so it does, I vow. Well, any friend of Mr Bingley’s will always be welcome here, to be sure; but else I must say that I hate the very sight of him.”
Mary, feeling brave once again, replied, “Mama, it has been four months. Mr Bingley seems unlikely to return, so you might consider being civil to Mr Darcy. Lizzy is not here to drive him off, so who knows, he might like someone else. Bird in the hand, and such.”
The very idea of converting Mr Darcy from a hateful man to a potential suitor should have taken but an instant, yet it required several moments. By the time the notion worked its way to inevitability, Mrs Bennet looked from the window and saw Mr Darcy hand down an elegant lady, dressed in the finest materials.
She sighed regretfully. “That must be Mr Darcy’s intended, though why he brings her here I cannot comprehend.”
A moment later, Mr Darcy reached into the coach again and handed down what looked like a maid wearing an enormous greatcoat. Everyone knew they would need a maid to maintain propriety, but the gentleman acted very peculiarly—even aside from the fact that his maid appeared to be wearing his coat. More shockingly, he smiled at the woman and even said a few words to her while holding her upper arm as if she might be unsteady on her feet. They had never seen the like.
All the ladies gasped when the maid gave the gentleman a huge smile and even, laughed at something he said, then patted him on the arm. The world was upside-down and everyone in it had gone completely mad.
They watched in breathless anticipation as the gentleman reached into the carriage one more time, and handed down—
“Jane!!!”
Mrs Bennet’s ear-splitting scream was only slightly less decorous than that of her three daughters. It was likely loud enough to be heard by the people exiting the coach, since Jane turned to see them at the window. However, Jane was not perturbed by the ruckus, as it was a perfectly normal greeting at Longbourn; she merely smiled and waved.
