Page 163 of A Most Unwelcome Acquaintance

“And I may say the rest when you cannot escape.”

“You spent weeks providing me with several.”

The rebuke carried affection, but Bingley accepted it. “I did, and regret each one.”

Jane offered him her hand. “Regret them once, then forget them. Caroline’s conduct cannot govern our future, and neither can your guilt.”

He took her hand. “You expect a great deal from me.”

“You are capable of it.”

“That is fortunate, since I mean to spend my life proving you are right.”

Jane studied him with the same quiet expression he once mistook for indifference. He understood now that her restraint concealed more than he allowed himself to hope.

“There is one thing I must ask,” she said.

“Anything.”

“When your sisters object, as Caroline has and may again, will you listen to them?”

“No. Louisa accepts that the choice is mine, and Caroline forfeited any right to say anything.”

Jane pressed his hand. “That is what I hoped you would say.”

Bingley looked down. “I could have spoken sooner and prevented much of this, but I will not make the same mistake again.”

She nodded. “I believe you.”

“You will not have to fight Caroline for your place.”

“I do not want it.”

Bingley understood. “No. You have your own.”

The door opened before either expected it. Mrs. Bennet saw their joined hands and cried out with joy. Lydia arrived first, Kitty close behind her, while Mary remained near the doorway with the book Bennet had sent her to find.

Bennet came last. He surveyed the room, then offered Bingley his hand.

“You have chosen a wife with more sense than either of us,” he said. “Preserve the advantage by listening to her.”

“I intend to.”

“A common promise, but intention often gives way under pressure.” Bennet glanced toward Mrs. Bennet, who was discussing lace, settlements, breakfast menus, and the number of carriages required for a wedding not yet scheduled. “You will find this family prepares you for noise, but whether any man can prepare for the expense is another question.”

Bingley laughed while Mrs. Bennet announced that she had always known the match would occur.

Bennet returned to the library to resume their interrupted conversation. He told Darcy of Wickham’s removal from Meryton, which the colonel had arranged without public spectacle, and of the tradesmen who would receive payment from the sale of the lieutenant’s commission and what little money Darcy could recover. Neither man mistook settlement for reform.

“He will blame you,” Bennet said.

“He has blamed me for consequences of his own making since we were boys. I am more worried about Miss Catherine.”

“Her mother reports that recovery began when another officer asked whether she would attend the next assembly.”

Darcy looked toward the closed door as laughter rose from the drawing room. “That was swift.”

“She is seventeen. Permanence has not yet become a habit.” Bennet closed the account book before him. “You did not come only to discuss Wickham.”