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Darcy understood. Miss Bingley would sooner remain in Gracechurch Street until Easter than be carried across London arranged face-down upon a mattress.

“And what does Caroline say?” Bingley asked.

“That she will not travel in that manner.”

“Yes,” Bingley said. “That sounds like her.”

“Mr. Hinshaw believes another week or ten days may make a considerable difference. Your sister has therefore decided to remain until she can travel properly.”

Bingley nodded. “Of course.”

“She is disappointed, naturally, but she has improved greatly,” Mrs. Gardiner said. “There is no reason for concern.”

There ought to have been some sign of frustration from Mrs. Gardiner. The Gardiners had received Miss Bingley without notice, surrendered a bedchamber to her, altered the work of their servants and their own schedules to care for her. They, too, must have been counting the days until her departure. Now they would have to continue doing so.

But Mrs. Gardiner merely picked up the letters Miss Elizabeth had sorted for her.

Darcy was sympathetic, though he was selfishly pleased at the same time. Miss Bingley’s pride meant that Bingley would continue calling upon Miss Bennet, and Darcy, having supplied his carriage for his friend’s convenience over the past fortnight, would not abandon the arrangement now.

Bingley had been restless from the moment they arrived. He had spoken to Miss Bennet about the weather, the theatre, a book he had not read, and Netherfield’s stables.

Miss Bennet bore it with admirable patience.

At last Bingley put down his cup.

“Miss Bennet, might I speak with you?”

Darcy’s eyes went rather naturally to Miss Elizabeth. She had become very interested in the ribbon tied around the correspondence.

Miss Bennet coloured, but she rose. “Of course.”

Mrs. Gardiner indicated the little library beside the drawing room. “You may speak in there. Leave the door open, if you please.”

“Certainly,” Bingley said.

Mrs. Gardiner rang for Cora and asked her to go to Mr. Gardiner’s study to fetch him.

No one in the drawing room attempted conversation. Mrs. Gardiner opened one letter and read it with an almost suspicious concentration. Miss Elizabeth picked up her book, read a page, and then stared at the door. When no one reappeared, she applied herself to her book again.

Darcy returned to his newspaper but he was not reading any more than Miss Elizabeth appeared to be.

After perhaps seven minutes, Bingley and Miss Bennet reappeared. Miss Bennet’s face was pink, Bingley was absurdly happy, and their failure to notice anything other than one another would have informed a much less observant man.

Bingley took a deep breath. “Miss Bennet has agreed to marry me,” he announced.

Mrs. Gardiner was on her feet before he could finish speaking, taking Miss Bennet by both hands and kissing her cheek. Miss Elizabeth’s congratulations followed.

Darcy had seen Miss Elizabeth in a temper, teasing, curious, and amused. But he had not seen her joyful—and he could not tear his attention away, for her happiness involved her entire body. She turned to bestow a beaming smile upon him, and Darcy’s breath caught in his throat. She had turned to share her delight with him, and he found that he could think of little else.

Then Bingley clapped Darcy on the shoulder, bringing him back to the moment. “She said yes.”

Darcy bowed to them. “I wish you both every happiness. And Miss Bennet, I owe you an apology. I presumed to judge your feelings for my friend without once asking you. I was wrong.”

Miss Elizabeth stilled, but he was certain she was listening.

“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Bennet replied. She looked at Bingley then, and Darcy had difficulty understanding how he had ever persuaded himself that Miss Bennet did not care for his friend.

Mr. Gardiner entered before the first excitement had subsided. He took in Jane’s flushed face, Bingley’s broad smile, and his wife’s suspiciously bright eyes, and stopped.