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“I suppose I shall always think of him fondly, for he is indeed the first man I ever recall loving. But that seems like such a long time ago. So much has happened—as you well know. I have come to consider that our lives are more than a series of random outcomes … all things happen for a reason. The wife of Mr. Collins and the mother of his two daughters is the life I was meant for. Indeed, I am very happy.”

Elizabeth smiled and embraced her eldest sister. “I am happy for you.” Upon resuming her former attitude, she espied her youngest sister skipping across the floor with Kitty bouncing along right behind her. Rolling her eyes, she said, “I believe I shall offer Bingley my condolences.”

“Yes,” said Jane with a hint of mischief in her voice, “and I shall take the opportunity to do the same with Miss Bingley.”

Elizabeth’s eyes followed Jane’s. Caroline Bingley sat off in the corner, her countenance a mixture of outrage and disgust—a powder keg if you asked Elizabeth. Heaven help us all.

With the end of the evening fast approaching, Bingley had not achieved his single, most important resolve—to speak with Jane. Ever since that harrowing day when he went to Longbourn to offer his hand to Miss Lydia, the thought of what Jane must think of him haunted him. Did she think he did not care for her—that he never cared? Every occasion that found them in company since that day also found them in the company of Geoffrey Collins. Rarely did the man leave Jane’s side, and when he did, he never stayed away very long. Finally, when the carriages were ordered to return the guests to their homes, Mrs. Bennet commanded Collins’s attention, thus allowing Bingley the chance he longed for.

As Jane was crossing the room, Bingley placed himself directly in her path. Nervous but determined, he said, “When I learned you were in London … last year … there was nothing more important to me than seeing you. I had to see you.”

Jane’s angelic eyes registered her confusion. “Oh?”

“I came to see you in Cheapside. You were not alone. I saw you walking with Mr. Collins.”

“Why did you not say something?”

“You looked happy.” Bingley swallowed hard. “As happy as I ever recalled having seen you.”

“Still, sir, you might have made your presence known. I am certain I would have been delighted to see you.”

“If I supposed for an instant that it would have made a difference in how things turned out, then I should berate myself for all eternity.”

“Sir, I know not what to say.”

“Tell me if it would have made a difference. If you had known that I had come to see you in Cheapside as soon as it was made known to me that you were in town, would it have been the means of a different outcome than the one we now endure?”

“Surely you cannot expect me to engage in such conjecture, to raise or diminish hopes, when nothing about our situation is ever likely to change. I am married to Mr. Collins, and you will soon be married to my youngest sister.”

“Please,” said Bingley, his eyes imploring, “one word from you will silence me on this matter forever.”

Geoffrey Collins marched over and stood by his wife’s side. “Pray I am not interrupting.”

How Bingley wished Jane looked at him the way she looked at Collins. She said, “Oh, no, Mr. Collins. Mr. Bingley was simply wishing me goodnight.”

Collins arched his brow. “Allow me to accept your good wishes on both our behalf.”

“Indeed, Collins; Mrs. Collins, goodnight.”

As tormenting as it was seeing the woman he loved being escorted away, the sight of Miss Lydia Bennet prancing his way, solely at her mother’s urgings, rendered him even more dejected. What had he ever done to harvest such misery?