Page 50

Jane’s breath caught at the confession, yet she said nothing.

“You must tell me, my dearest Jane, if you do not wish me to speak further.”

She said nothing, her eyes urging him on.

“Then since you do not wish me to be silent, say you will have me,” Bingley urged. “Jane, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

Her answer was barely more than a whisper and an urgent nod of her head, for her voice had entirely escaped her.

Bingley’s hand tightened softly upon hers, as if he could not quite believe his own happiness. More might have been said, had Mrs. Bennet not then returned, and upon finding the attitude they sat in very telling, she began to exclaim over them both.

“My dearest, dearest Jane!” cried Mrs. Bennet, her hands fluttering as if she could not decide whether to clap them or wring them in delight. “I knew it would be so! Mr. Bennet told me that I ought not to hope, but I knew how it would be! Oh, Mr. Bingley! You are all that is good and amiable!”

Jane, abashed but radiant, could not bring herself to look at her betrothed, but it would have been clear to any observer that Jane and Mr. Bingley’s joy was even more profound than Mrs. Bennet’s, albeit less exuberant.

∞∞∞

December 3

Netherfield House

Meryton, Hertfordshire

Dear Darcy,

I hope all is well with you and yours. I went yesterday to Longbourn and accomplished both of my purposes, relating my return to Netherfield and securing Miss Bennet as my future wife. I will not trouble you with a long description of my feelings, though I am convinced no man ever had greater cause for satisfaction.

Mrs. Bennet was civil to a fault, though her management in clearing the room of her daughters was somewhat transparent. It served our purpose, however, and after a short conversation, Miss Bennet was kind enough to accept my proposal. We are to be married at the same ceremony as Miss Mary Bennet and Mr. Lucas, for it seems rather strange to wait when all will be in place for a wedding already. We hope that banns might be called, but such requires that the letter I sent first reach Scarborough in good time, or else I shall have to acquire a common licence. Either way, it shall occur on the 27th of this month.

Yesterday was spent almost entirely at Longbourn, as you might imagine. I related to Miss Bennet the actions of my youngest sister, and that I should like to have very little to do with Caroline in the near future. She was saddened to hear of this, but given some intelligence she already had known from before my departure, it did not surprise her overmuch.

She also related some news to me that I believe shall interest you greatly. Mr. Wickham has been sent to debtor’s prison for running up a great debt in Meryton. The gentlemen in the area learned of his spendthrift ways and bought up all his debts, which of course he would not be able to pay. I imagine that even if he does manage to pay what he owes, he should not like to return to Meryton. With this information and my repeated invitation, I hope you shall now consider returning to Hertfordshire. It should be a favour to me, for if you return and bring with you your sister and Mrs. Annesley, then I might have company at Netherfield and a hostess as well.

I remain your loyal friend,

Charles Bingley

Bingley set down his pen and sighed. It was the third time he had rewritten the letter, in hopes that his friend might actually be able to read it, and he had taken great care to ensure no blotches spotted the paper. Bingley folded the parchment, sealed it with a heavy stroke of wax, and handed it to his valet with strict instructions to have it dispatched by the midday post.

The letter gone, Bingley found himself restless as the hours ticked by. He knew from the previous evening’s conversation that the ladies of Longbourn would be not at home until perhaps four o’clock, as Mrs. Bennet had a long list of errands that needed to be settled as soon as possible for the wedding. The gown, for example, that Jane had selected when her position was only as sister to the bride was no longer at all acceptable for much more than a dinner out. It would not do for one sister to outshine the other on their wedding day, and thus he was to be alone for most of the day.

Perhaps it was the prospect of Netherfield’s future that made it echo so profoundly now. He smiled, thinking of what might soon come. He would, of course, have his dearest Jane at his side once they were wed. Then, perhaps children. He had scarcely ever thought of himself as a father, but the thought was not unpleasant. He knew also that Jane would wish her sisters to be constantly at hand, particularly Miss Elizabeth.

He supposed, though, that might be difficult if all went to his liking. He might have to give up Netherfield if such a happy event should occur. Derbyshire was no easy distance from Hertfordshire, and he should not like his wife unhappy and missing her favourite sister.

Chapter 26

It was Mrs. Ellington’s first evening back in society since the unfortunate domestic accident that had confined her to Longbourn. Thankfully, they had been able to keep the real reason for her fall an accident. Given Mrs. Ellington’s age, it did not take great credulity to believe the lady had simply fallen when walking by candlelight. Such occurrences were commonplace enough and was not Mrs. Ellington’s advancing age the purpose of her coming to Longbourn to begin with? Even so, those who knew the truth were sobered by the sight of Mrs. Ellington nursing her injury.

Lucas Lodge was never at its best when striving for grandeur; such an affect always sat awkwardly on the home. Yet, no one in attendance at the dinner minded the garish décor, as in the matter of hospitality it had few rivals. The Lucases were in a state of animation rarely witnessed even in such a large household. The dinner they had planned, designed to honour both their dear eldest son and his betrothed and the even more recent betrothal of Miss Bennet to Mr. Bingley, was orchestrated by Lady Lucas with great zeal. Good things come in threes, she had always said, and she very much hoped that was true for betrothals. Colonel Forster was to be present, and having placed him beside Charlotte, they very much hoped the two would get on well.

Sir William was in the highest spirits, circulating with the air of a man to whom happiness in his household reflected honour upon himself. He had already several times expressed, to anyone who would listen, his conviction that no other neighbourhood could boast of two such eligible matches as those now being celebrated. This sentiment was agreed upon by all those present, and any feelings of envy by the young ladies in attendance were dampened by the true happiness they saw in the faces of their friends.

Mary, seated between her betrothed and Mr. Long, was in the rare position of being entirely at ease. Her mother, seated at the opposite end of the table, had focused her matronly attention almost entirely on Jane and Mr. Bingley, as their match was more recent and was also considered of much greater consequence. This, Mary did not mind at all. Indeed, she was pleased to be so overlooked, for she could devote her whole attention to her future husband, whose conversation she found far superior to that of anyone else in attendance.

A few months prior, Mary might have believed herself incapable of being lively, assuming that frivolity befell only those such as her younger sisters whom she did not wish to emulate. Yet she could not remember, in all her years, a dinner at which she had spoken so much, and with so little effort, as she did that evening. Whenever some remark startled her into laughter, David would seek to uncover what else she might find delightful. She made no attempt to stifle her amusement, encouraging his antics ever more.

For her part, Kitty was similarly caught up in conversation, finding herself seated pleasantly between Colonel Denny and Mr. Long. Since gaining some education from Mrs. Ellington, she no longer valued the former’s conversation simply due to the colour of his coat, and considered, after a quarter of the meal had passed by, that he was quite lacking. Mr. Long, who had been the object of some fascination for her as long as she could remember, held her attention much more readily as he told her what he had seen in the shops when he had visited Hertford the week previous. He spoke also of the antics of his hounds, two of whom had never quite taken to the training they had been given. One of them did not like the water, and when asked to retrieve the bird that had fallen in a pond, would sit on the grass near the water and whine until one of the others would go and get it.