Elizabeth arched a brow. “That is, perhaps, the only sensible declaration she has made this week. After arriving home at nearly dawn, I would not wish to make any calls today, either.”
The day unfolded lazily. Mary did not practice. Lydia did not demand ribbons. Even Kitty seemed subdued. The servants moved quietly, grateful, no doubt, for the unexpected reprieve from their mistress’s excitements.
It was, Elizabeth thought, the calm before an entirely different storm.
The following morning shattered that illusion.
Shortly after breakfast—this time taken at a respectable hour—the sound of carriage wheels announced visitors. Mrs. Bennet nearly dropped her teacup in delight.
“They have come already!” she cried. “I knew they would not be able to stay away!”
Elizabeth’s heart leaped as she moved toward the window to see Bingley and Darcy descending from a carriage. Darcy turned, and handed down Georgiana, serene and graceful despite the chill, and Lady Anne, elegant and composed, her expression warm as she surveyed Longbourn.
Elizabeth scarcely remembered crossing the room, only that Darcy’s eyes found hers almost at once and softened in a manner that made her pulse quicken.
After greetings and congratulations were renewed—Mrs. Bennet insisting upon repeating every exclamation she had uttered the night before—the gentlemen exchanged a glance.
“There is a matter of business we must discuss,” Darcy began.
Mrs. Bennet stiffened in delighted anticipation. “Business! Oh! How very grand that sounds!”
Bingley smiled apologetically. “Darcy and I must return to London for a short time. We intend to call upon our attorneys to have the marriage settlements drawn.”
Mrs. Bennet pressed her hand dramatically to her chest.
Darcy continued, his tone steady. “As I am not in my home parish, and as winter advances quickly, I do not wish to delay matters by the posting of banns. The roads to Derbyshire will become difficult before long. Therefore, I shall obtain a common license.”
Mrs. Bennet gave a small, strangled shriek.
“A common license!” she repeated reverently, as though he had announced a coronation. “Oh, my dear Lizzy! How very distinguished! No waiting three Sundays for the whole county to whisper about it!”
Elizabeth, though amused, focused instead on what truly mattered.
“When did you intend to marry, then?” she asked quietly.
Darcy met her gaze without hesitation. “I had hoped for some time before Christmas.”
The words struck her with unexpected force.
“Before Christmas?” she repeated.
She had imagined—without quite realizing she had done so—that the Gardiners would be present. They were due in Hertfordshire on the twenty-third of December. The thought of standing at the altar without her beloved aunt and uncle pricked sharply.
“It would have been pleasant,” she admitted carefully, “to have my aunt and uncle present.”
Darcy’s expression shifted—concern mingled with regret. “If you would prefer to wait—”
“Oh!” Bingley interrupted, brightening suddenly. “Why not a double wedding? Friday, the twenty-seventh of December! After the Gardiners arrive.”
Jane’s eyes widened in hopeful delight.
But Mrs. Bennet recoiled as though personally affronted.
“The day after Boxing Day?” she cried. “Impossible! The servants will all be exhausted! There will be no one to arrange flowers or cakes or—oh! It cannot be done!”
Elizabeth could not help laughing. “And with the four Gardiners in residence, the house would be in complete disarray,” she admitted. “Mama would be in hysterics, our house would be overrun with callers, and no one would know which sister was to be dressed first.”
Jane smiled ruefully.
