Page 167 of A Most Unwelcome Acquaintance

“Prepared?” Mrs. Bennet repeated. “My dear Lizzy, no family has ever endured such a morning. Jane’s wedding was nothing to this.”

Jane looked at Elizabeth. Mrs. Bennet had made the same claim before Jane married Bingley three weeks earlier.

That wedding had filled Longbourn with visitors, noise, and enough food to provision the militia. Mrs. Bennet still spoke of it as though she had conducted a military campaign without support. She found little time to regret Jane’s removal to Netherfield because the second wedding demanded her attention before the first breakfast dishes had left the table.

“You said Jane’s wedding surpassed every wedding in Hertfordshire,” Elizabeth reminded her.

“It did, but this one has greater complications. Pemberley is involved.”

“Pemberley has not added to the complications.”

“Exactly. Mr. Darcy insists upon simplicity as though it arranges itself.”

Bennet entered without waiting for permission and looked at his wife. “My dear, Hill requires your judgment on a matter of grave importance.”

Mrs. Bennet pressed a hand to her breast. “What happened?”

“The cook placed the ham before the tongue.”

She hurried from the room.

Jane watched the door close. “Was that true?”

“No,” Bennet said. “But it will occupy her until someone discovers the ham is still at Longbourn.”

Elizabeth laughed, though the sound caught as Bennet turned toward her. He had dressed with more care than usual, and the effort made his familiar expression harder to bear.

“You look very well, Lizzy.”

“So do you.”

“Your mother said I look resigned.”

“You do not.”

“Then I failed to arrange my face.”

Jane came forward and kissed Elizabeth’s cheek. “I should join Charles before Mama sends someone to find me.”

“The man has smiled without interruption since breakfast. It is becoming a strain to observe,” Bennet said.

Jane left them together.

For a moment Bennet said nothing. The church bell marked the quarter hour, and voices moved beyond the wall as the last guests entered.

Elizabeth laid a hand on his arm. “You think this foolish?”

“No. That is the difficulty. I must admit you understood yourself better than I did.”

“You may retain the belief, although you will have fewer chances to tell me.”

“That is some consolation.”

His humor faded. “You will be far away.”

“Not beyond reach.”

“No. Mr. Darcy promised that, and I believe him. I find I believe him in a great many things I once expected to doubt.”