Page 48 of The Briar Bargain (The Rom Com Collection #3)
E lizabeth sat together with Jane and Mrs. Hurst in the drawing room, all a little stunned at what had occurred. She tried to read her book but found herself reading the same page repeatedly without understanding a word.
At last, the door opened, and Mr. Bingley entered, his countenance brightening the instant his eyes found Jane. “Miss Bennet,” he said warmly, “might I beg a few minutes of your time?”
Elizabeth looked up. “The conservatory is a wonderful place for a walk,” she said lightly.
“Splendid suggestion,” he replied with a grateful smile. He offered Jane his hand to help her to her feet, and once she was standing, he placed her hand upon his arm.
Mrs. Hurst stood as well, offering Elizabeth a warmer smile than she had previously shown, and followed her brother and Jane from the room without remark.
Elizabeth was a little surprised, but as a married woman, Mrs. Hurst was the more proper chaperone. She was so happy for Jane, and for herself as well, for Mr. Bingley would make a charming brother .
She hardly knew what to do with herself.
Unless she was very wrong, and she did not see how that could be possible, Jane was even now hearing a proposal of marriage from Mr. Bingley, and she knew her sister would accept it.
Mamma would so pleased. She would insist upon all the credit for having stranded Jane here in the first place. There would be no living with her now.
Elizabeth crossed to the window.
She rested her fingers on the sill, uncertain whether she wished the day to end or feared that it might. The morning's walk through the conservatory with Mr. Darcy had been a pleasure, but it had also left Elizabeth with sentiments she could no longer deny.
She had spent the better part of two months cataloguing Mr. Darcy's numerous faults, chief among them his insufferable pride and obvious disdain for anyone beneath his elevated social sphere.
To find herself so completely reconsidering those judgements felt rather like discovering that north had suddenly become south.
Mr. Darcy had not wished her to know him, that much she had fathomed. But something important had happened to him here at Netherfield. There was no way to know what that something was, or whether he meant to do anything about it, until—unless—he spoke. And she truly wished that he would.
Elizabeth was not used to waiting for others to act. She did not like it.
Suddenly realizing that she was alone, and unwilling to remain here should Miss Bingley return, Elizabeth abandoned her post at the window and ventured into the passage. The house felt unusually quiet.
Elizabeth wandered for a time and was contemplating whether to return to her chamber when hurried footsteps caught her attention. Jane appeared around the corner, her face luminous with joy, her usual composed demeanour replaced by an almost breathless excitement .
"Lizzy!" she whispered, catching Elizabeth's hands in hers. "Oh, Lizzy, he has asked me! Mr. Bingley has asked me to marry him!"
The happiness that flooded through Elizabeth was immediate and overwhelming. “Jane!” She embraced her sister warmly, feeling tears of joy prick her eyes. "I am so very happy for you both. He is the most fortunate man in England."
"Am I dreaming?" Jane laughed, a sound of pure delight. "I can scarce believe it."
They were interrupted by the approach of Mrs. Hurst, who had clearly witnessed the sisters' emotional exchange. Rather than the cool reserve Elizabeth might have expected, Mrs. Hurst's face bore a genuine smile.
Mr. Bingley himself appeared moments later, his face flushed with happiness and nervous energy. "Miss Elizabeth," he said, bowing rather more formally than usual, "I hope—that is, I trust you approve of my suit? Jane has made me the happiest of men, and I should be honoured to call you sister."
"You have my complete approval and blessing, Mr. Bingley, of course you do," Elizabeth replied with a happy laugh. "I could not wish for a better husband for Jane. But it is not to me you must apply."
"I beg your pardon, I think it is,” Mr. Bingley told her.
“But I shall speak with Mr. Bennet as well.” Suddenly he looked stricken.
"Good heavens, we must celebrate properly!
I should speak to Cook immediately about dinner this evening, though I fear it is rather late in the day to arrange anything elaborate.
Perhaps tomorrow we might have a proper feast, with all the ceremony the occasion deserves.
Only you will both be at Longbourn by then.
Next week, perhaps, when we have had time to plan something truly fitting for such happy news . . . "
"Charles," Mrs. Hurst said gently, "allow us to enjoy a pleasant dinner tonight and worry about grand celebrations later. As you have said, you must still speak to Mr. Bennet."
"Yes, quite right," he said, though he continued to look as though he might burst from sheer excitement. "I shall go speak to Cook directly to see whether anything might be done. There must be champagne, at the very least."
He hurried away, leaving the ladies to exchange amused glances.
“Excuse me,” Mrs. Hurst said with a little laugh. “I should follow to be sure he does not ruffle Cook’s feelings.”
Jane embraced Elizabeth once more, her eyes bright with unshed tears of happiness. "I must go and . . . and think. Oh, Lizzy, I am so very, very happy."
She seemed to glide rather than walk as she made her way to the stairs, her usual graceful composure transformed into an almost ethereal joy that made Elizabeth smile just to witness it.
Left alone, Elizabeth felt her own heart lift with vicarious happiness.
Jane deserved every moment of this bliss.
As she wandered aimlessly through the house, her mind full of agreeable thoughts about her sister's future happiness, she found herself drawn to the library, seeking a quiet moment to process the wonderful news.
The library door was slightly ajar. She pushed it open and stepped inside, only to halt abruptly at the sound of male voices.
Mr. Darcy and Mr. Hurst were seated in leather chairs near the hearth, a small table between them. Mr. Hurst was, as ever, accompanied by his glass of port, though he appeared more alert than usual. Mr. Darcy appeared to be speaking earnestly with Mr. Hurst, his countenance flushed and angry.
Both gentlemen looked up at her entrance, and Elizabeth felt a flush of self-consciousness. Mr. Darcy's gaze seemed particularly penetrating, as though he could discern the restless thoughts that had driven her from the drawing room. The hard lines in his face softened.
"Miss Elizabeth," Mr. Hurst said with unexpected animation, setting down his glass with enthusiasm that nearly overset it. "Come to educate yourself before dinner, have you? Excellent habit. Come, join us."
She hesitated, keenly aware that she was intruding upon what appeared to be a masculine retreat. "I had not meant to disturb you, gentlemen. I merely sought a book to occupy me."
"Nonsense" came a feminine voice from behind her. Mrs. Hurst was entering the library. "You are most welcome, Miss Elizabeth. You will soon be family too, after all.”
“We were just speaking of port," said Mr. Hurst. "And its various virtues as compared to brandy."
Elizabeth doubted that.
"Were you indeed?" Mrs. Hurst smiled at her husband with a sort of indulgent affection. "Well, we are speaking of whist now. Are we not, gentlemen?"
"We are now," said Mr. Hurst cheerfully, apparently delighted with this development. "Miss Elizabeth, do you play? Please say you do. Darcy here is far too serious a player, always calculating odds and remembering every card that has been played. Takes all the sport out of it."
Elizabeth could not help but smile at this description. It was, she suspected, perfectly accurate. "I do play, though I confess it has been some time since I have had the opportunity. My father prefers chess, and my mother finds cards too stimulating for her nerves."
"Well then," declared Mr. Hurst with the satisfaction of a man who had solved a pressing problem. "Let us have a proper game. "
Mrs. Hurst settled herself into a chair with practised elegance, reaching into a small drawer in the table and withdrawing a number of fish counters, indicating that they would not be playing for coin.
The consideration, offered so delicately, struck Elizabeth as unusually thoughtful.
She knew that the Hursts and Mr. Darcy ordinarily played high, but Mrs. Hurst was making a gracious effort to ensure that Elizabeth need not decline.
It was the sort of subtle attention to a guest’s comfort that a hostess was expected to display.
"I should be pleased to join you,” Elizabeth said, “if you are certain I shall not prove too out of practice to provide proper competition."
"I have every confidence in your abilities," Mrs. Hurst replied. "And besides, my husband's definition of proper competition is rather flexible."
Mr. Darcy had been silent during this exchange, but now he rose from his chair and with quiet courtesy, moved to pull out a seat at the table for her.
"Shall we partner together, Miss Elizabeth?" he asked, his voice carrying that familiar formal tone that she was beginning to recognise masked deeper currents. "I promise to bear my share of responsibility for any disasters that may ensue."
She settled into the chair he had provided, acutely conscious of his proximity as he helped position it properly. "I shall endeavour not to disgrace you, sir."
"I have no fears on that score," he replied gravely, though she was almost certain she detected the ghost of a smile on his lips.