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“I do,” Elizabeth replied, just as quietly.

Jane put her embroidery down. “Then I believe I will walk to visit Aunt Philips,” she said. “I can take Lydia and Kitty with me, if you would like.”

“That would probably be for the best,” Elizabeth agreed, as there was nothing else to say. A few minutes later, she saw Jane and their two youngest sisters out the window, walking down the road in the watery sunlight.

Mary and Mrs Bennet had joined Elizabeth by the time Bingley arrived asking to speak to Mr Bennet. Hill had barely finished announcing him before Elizabeth was on her feet.

“I will show him to my father’s study,” she said hurriedly, and was in the hall before anyone could comment on it. She knew it was not exactly conventional for her to escort him up, but the worst had already occurred, so why should she stand on niceties now?

Mr Bingley was standing by the door, and he looked, Elizabeth thought, much as she felt: tired, strained, but faintly relieved to have something practical to do. He greeted her with a bow and a smile that was not as exuberant as his usual grin, but was entirely genuine nonetheless. Elizabeth felt a rush of appreciation for his character, and a determination that he should not have to suffer because of that innate goodness.

“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, clearly surprised to see her come out to meet him. “I hope … I think…that is, I hope you are well.”

“I am as well as might be expected, considering the circumstances in which we have found ourselves,” she said, clearly surprising him again with her directness. “And how are you, Mr Bingley?”

He considered this with a seriousness to match her honesty. “I…I am exactly the same, I think,” he replied thoughtfully. “I would like to speak to your father. He did not…I believe he was too angry to speak with me last night.”

Elizabeth winced, hoping that worry about her father’s non-existent anger hadn’t been another burden for poor Mr Bingley to bear. “He was not angry,” she said quietly. “He…requires time to prepare for difficult situations.” Aware of how silly and ineffectual that explanation sounded, Elizabeth quickly turned to lead Mr Bingley down the hallway before he could ask further questions. She brought him to the study, knocked on the door, and was already pushing it open before she heard her father’s distracted reply.

Mr Bennet looked up from his book. His expression moved through surprise, mild reproof, and resignation in the space of a second. “Elizabeth,” he said. “And Mr Bingley. What a very comprehensive visit this is.”

“Mr Bingley has come to discuss arrangements with you, Papa,” Elizabeth said pleasantly, settling herself in the chair across from the desk as though it was the most natural thing in the world for her to do. “I thought I might sit in, as the arrangements rather concern me.”

“Miss Elizabeth… I am sure that you would prefer…that is, I imagine your father wants to ask…” Mr Bingley stopped, his cheeks ruddy.

Mr Bennet observed him silently for a moment. “Other than myself, my Lizzy is the person in this house with the most sense,” he said. “Though that may not seem the most enthusiastic praise, considering the makeup of the household, I assure you it is. I have found her perspective valuable on many occasions, and I would suggest that you not disregard her. These arrangements you wish to discuss pertain to her, I am sure, so it seems fitting that she participate in the conversation.”

Elizabeth looked in surprise at her father, pinkening a bit with the praise.

Though she would have been a bit more pleased with it had she not suspected that her father’s real motive was discomfiting Mr Bingley.

The conversation that followed was civil and, at first, unremarkable. Mr Bingley spoke of his intentions, which were everything that was honourable and nothing that either of them wanted. Mr Bennet listened with the mild, distracted attention of a man performing a duty he had already decided on the outcome of, and that he would rather get through as quickly as possible.

“I do not quite understand how you ended up in the library with my Lizzy,” he said mildly.

“I assure you, I had no suspicion that Miss Elizabeth was there,” Mr Bingley assured the older man. “I was looking for Miss Bennet, and heard she might be in…” he stopped, suddenly realising what he was saying.

“So you thought one of my other daughters was unchaperoned in the library?” Mr Bennet asked, peering over his spectacles. There was a short, uncomfortable silence, then Mr Bennet sat back in his chair. “As I frequently tell my daughters, stopping to think for thirty seconds before dashing off and doing things would stand you in good stead,” he remarked. “That is why I cannot bear to read Romeo and Juliet anymore. I am middle-aged, and they make me tired. All that dancing and mooning about and fighting with swords and faking their deaths… Had either of them taken the time to write a brief note or have a conversation, everyone would have still been alive at the end of the tale.”

Elizabeth stared at her father, rather unsure where his Shakespearean segue was headed. Nor did Mr Bingley look less confused.

Mr Bennet stopped himself and sighed. “At any rate, I suppose you will be wanting to set a date for this wedding?”

Mr Bingley blinked several times. “Uh, yes, sir, I believe we should do so. Do you have any thoughts regarding…”

“I wonder,” interrupted Elizabeth, “whether a long engagement might suit everyone best.”

Both men looked at her, Bingley with mounting confusion, and her father with slight amusement. “Do you think so, Lizzy?” he asked. “Pray, share your thoughts with us. I do not believe that many young ladies in your situation would advocate for a long engagement.”

Elizabeth turned slightly pink, but pressed forward. “This has all happened very quickly,” she said doggedly. “And while I am most grateful for Mr Bingley’s kindness, I cannot help but feel that we would all be better served by some time to get to know each other better and grow accustomed to the arrangement.” She paused. “Additionally, it may be that a hasty wedding, after a sudden engagement, might attract rather more notice than a longer one would.”

This last point was a practical one, and she saw her father grin in amused approval. Mr Bingley exhaled sharply, looking up to meet her eyes for the first time. She could see he understood, better perhaps than either of them wanted, and she found there was yet another reason for her to be grateful to Mr Bingley.

“Miss Elizabeth makes a very reasonable point,” he said to Mr Bennet. “I should not wish to rush a lady, and anything that we can do to forestall the gossips seems to make sense.”

Mr Bennet looked between them with the expression of a man who suspects he is not being told everything, but is not inclined to dig any deeper. “Very well,” he said. “A longer engagement.”

Elizabeth walked with Mr Bingley to the door when he left, while her father remained in his study. They were not truly alone: Hill was somewhere nearby, and the sounds of her mother’s voice and Mary’s pianoforte trailed around them, but there was sufficient privacy for a brief conversation.