Page 49 of Look on the Heart (Darcy and Elizabeth Variations #10)

She stepped forward and ushered them toward the drawing room. “Come now—there is no need to celebrate in the entrance hall.”

Elizabeth blushed and curtsied playfully as they moved into the room. “Yes, Aunt. Mr. Darcy proposed in the park. He will write to my father for permission. But I believe Papa will not object.”

Mrs. Gardiner smiled knowingly. “Three marriages in one spring. Your mother will go distracted.”

The room burst into laughter.

“Yes,” said Elizabeth, glancing at her sisters. “And I believe we must begin shopping at once for bonnets, gowns, and lace. Jane, Mary—will you come with me tomorrow? With three ladies to clothe, we have no time to lose!”

“Of course,” Jane said, still radiant herself.

Mary nodded primly. “Indeed. I believe it is my duty, as your most sensible sister, to ensure you are properly attired.” This drew another round of laughter, for Mary’s wit and spirit had transformed since her time away from Longbourn.

They had barely caught their breath when the Gardiners’ butler entered to announce, “Mr. Bingley and Mr. Finch, ma’am.”

Mr. Bingley entered first and bowed to the company—his ever-cheerful smile brighter than ever—and made straight for Jane. Mr. Finch, a tall, genteel man with intelligent eyes and a quiet reserve, followed close behind and offered a polite bow.

“I believe I now understand why we find the house so animated today,” Bingley said, glancing between Elizabeth and Darcy with clear delight. “May I offer my hearty congratulations? I hoped all would work out for the best—and now we shall be brothers in truth!”

Mr. Finch echoed the sentiment with a soft smile. “It seems, Miss Mary, that I am in excellent company among future grooms.”

Introductions were made all around. Mr. Gardiner emerged from his study to welcome the visitors, and soon the drawing room was alive with conversation.

Mrs. Gardiner addressed the three gentlemen with warm hospitality. “You must all dine with us this evening. We cannot allow such joyous news to pass uncelebrated.”

“I would be delighted,” said Bingley, beaming at Jane.

“And I would not dream of refusing,” added Mr. Finch, his gaze resting fondly on Mary.

“It would be my honor, ma’am,”” said Darcy. “I thank you.”

As everyone seated themselves and tea was brought in, Elizabeth looked about the room—at Jane, glowing with happiness; at Mary, serene as she had never been before—and at Darcy, who now held her gaze with love and certainty. She felt her heart brim with gratitude.

Three sisters. Three marriages. And a house full of laughter and affection.

Tea was served—light cakes, buttered toast, and delicate sandwiches.

Elizabeth was nestled between Jane and Darcy, while Mary and Mr. Finch shared a quiet corner of their own.

Mr. Bingley, ever the genial guest, divided his conversation between Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner with such cheerful ease that even Maria, unaccustomed to such fashionable company, appeared perfectly at home.

Mr. Gardiner, after complimenting the gentlemen on their timely arrivals, smiled and nodded at each in turn.

“You are fortunate men,” he said warmly.

“May you find as much joy in marriage as you have brought to this house today.” Then, with a fond glance to his nieces, he added, “And if I do not return to my warehouses now, I shall accomplish no work today at all.”

Mrs. Gardiner smiled as she watched him go. “He will carry the news to every clerk in the building. I dare say the price of tea shall rise in celebration.”

“I shall be very pleased to pay it,” Darcy replied, his gaze still resting on Elizabeth.

Across the room, Maria was eagerly asking Jane about her wedding plans, quite overcome with the notion of the three Bennet sisters married within the same spring.

“Shall you have matching dresses?” she asked earnestly. “Or is that too much to hope for?” Her sly smile betrayed her jest.

Jane laughed lightly. “I believe that would be too much for Meryton to bear—three sisters in identical gowns.”

“Though if Lydia were here,” Elizabeth said dryly, “she would insist on being the first Bennet sister to marry, wearing crimson and gold, and declaring herself the bride, regardless of who was actually getting married.”

The room rippled with laughter.

As tea continued, Darcy leaned toward Elizabeth and murmured, “I shall send my letter to your father this afternoon, but perhaps…you would prefer to write as well? I believe he will value your words most.”

Elizabeth turned to him, surprised but touched. “Yes, I should like that.”

Mrs. Gardiner, ever perceptive, gestured discreetly to the small writing desk in the corner of the room. “If you wish to use it, my dear,” she said gently, “you may. Mr. Darcy can sit with you, of course. I shall be as unobtrusive as a shadow, I assure you.”

And indeed, she was true to her word. Mrs. Gardiner settled herself by the window with her work basket to do a bit of mending, giving the three young couples a measure of privacy—her presence quiet and reassuring, and noticed only by Elizabeth.

Elizabeth seated herself at the desk and drew forth a sheet of thick cream paper. Darcy sat beside her, his presence a steadying comfort. She dipped the pen, paused, and began.

My dearest Papa,

I write with news I hope you will receive with joy.

Mr. Darcy has asked for my hand, and I have accepted him.

He means to write to you himself with the proper request for your permission, but I wished to tell you with my own words.

I believe you now will better understand my morose behavior last winter.

Mr. Darcy is the best of men, Papa, and I love him. I have taken your lessons to heart and looked past outward appearance to see the kind, genuine soul within. He makes me very happy, and I could not have asked for anyone better than him. Pray give us your blessing, Papa.

Out of necessity, my return to Hertfordshire will be delayed.

Sir William will retrieve Maria as previously arranged and is delighted to carry with her news of the Bennet ladies’ felicity.

Pray, comfort Mama when Lady Lucas brings word of my engagement to Longbourn.

And pray, attempt to temper the flood of words—whether reproachful or effusive—that will doubtless follow.

Your affectionate daughter,

Elizabeth

She let the ink dry, folded the letter neatly, and sealed it. Darcy offered to have it sent by express that evening.

Their fingers brushed as she passed him the letter. “There. If that does not win my father over, nothing will—though I dare say your fortune may help tip the scales. Do take care with it. I should not like to rewrite the whole thing if you drop it in a puddle.”

Darcy laughed, warm and unstrained. “Minx. I shall endeavor to keep it dry, Elizabeth, though I suspect even soaked through, your words would prove persuasive.” He took the letter with exaggerated care. “I shall guard it as I would the deeds to Pemberley.”

Then, leaning forward to whisper in her ear, he added, “And if your father is not swayed, I shall remind him that I am quite accustomed to difficult women.”

Her eyes danced. “Then let us hope he sees that, like you, I improve upon closer acquaintance.”

Mrs. Gardiner glanced up from her mending just once, smiled to herself, and returned to her needlework.

The room hummed with cheerful talk and teasing banter, teacups clinking gently on saucers, and the occasional laugh ringing like music through the space. It was a perfectly ordinary moment—yet for Elizabeth, it felt like the beginning of something extraordinary.

And perhaps it was.