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L ongbourn was a very different place than it had been just a few short months ago. The house was quiet. Oh, there was conversation enough and the piano was practiced a good deal, but the hectic feeling that had once permeated the house was quite gone.

Mr. Bennet felt that he would give a decade of his life to have the noise back again. But since that was not an option, he did what he could to become a supportive parent to his remaining daughters.

The girls had made good use of Madeleine’s gift of fabrics, and he had made certain to compliment them on their appearances, offering again to purchase any materials needed.

Lydia would have taken him up on his offer in a flash, he knew, but the other girls – his remaining daughters – simply shook their heads and maintained that they had enough.

Jane ordered far simpler meals than had her mother, and they did very little entertaining; in addition, Mr. Bennet refrained from adding to his library.

As a result, he was able to set aside money for his girls’ dowries.

It felt good, he reflected, to do what was required of him, rather than hiding behind his study door, hoping not to be disturbed.

Why, he wondered, had it taken him so long to discover this?

A knock on the door distracted him from his reflections. “Come in!” he called. To his surprise, Mr. Bingley walked in.

Mr. Bennet rose and the two men shook hands. “Drink, Bingley?” Mr. Bennet enquired.

“No, I thank you, sir.”

“Sit.” Mr. Bennet motioned to a chair. “What brings you to my study? I rather thought you preferred my eldest daughter’s company to my own.”

Mr. Bingley reddened at this. “I would not want you to think that I do not enjoy your –“

“No matter, no matter.” Mr. Bennet thought he would have to remember not to tease Mr. Bingley.

“I plan to propose to Miss Bennet today, sir, and I wanted to make certain that there were no objections on your part.”

“You will wait the six months before marrying?”

“Of course.”

“What of Miss Bingley?”

“She is now living with our relative in Scarborough.”

Mr. Bennet’s brows rose. “And she will not return?”

“Not unless her character undergoes a great change, which I do not expect.”

“Hmmph. And Lydia’s absence?”

“It makes no difference to me, sir.”

“You understand that her continued and unexplained absence could make my remaining daughters unable to marry?”

“I do understand; it will be my honour to offer them a home throughout their lives,” Mr. Bingley said, solemnly.

“You are a good man, Bingley,” Mr. Bennet said, with great sincerity. “Do be aware that I am saving money for them, and they each have their share of their mother’s four thousand pounds.”

“Miss Bennet will not need that money, sir; I have more than enough.”

“Well, that will benefit the other girls a good deal. Of course, I have no objections to your proposal whatsoever, and I have no doubt that she will be happy to accept you. You may spend fifteen minutes alone with her in the parlour.”

With that encouragement, Mr. Bingley rose with alacrity, shook Mr. Bennet’s hand again and departed, eager to find his beloved.

***

Jane and Kitty were in the parlour; Jane was sewing for a tenant and Kitty was producing a sketch of Mama. She had made an extra sketch of Lydia to put up in her room, and Mary had suggested that she do one of Mama as well. “So that we never forget what they looked like,” Mary said.

Kitty had protested that she could never forget what her beloved mother and sister looked like, but the mere idea of such a thing happening had kept her awake for two nights! The simple answer was, of course, to do as Mary had suggested and make her sketch.

Jane had heard Mr. Bingley’s voice in the entryway, and so knew he had been in to see her father. That could mean only one thing! Her heart was pounding, and her stitches had become so uneven that she would have to rip them out and begin again!

Mr. Bingley soon appeared before her and said, “Your father has given his permission for us to have fifteen minutes alone together.” He cast a pleading eye at Kitty, who understood immediately. She gathered up her pencils and sketch pad, curtsied, and left the room, closing the door behind her.

She ran upstairs and found Mary. “It is happening!” she hissed.

“What?”

“Mr. Bingley is proposing to Jane!”

“Are you certain?” Elizabeth had overheard and had rushed out of her room to confirm it.

“They are alone together in the parlour; Papa gave his permission for them to be alone for fifteen minutes!”

Elizabeth sighed. She was absolutely delighted for Jane, of course; but would it ever be her turn for such happiness? If only Lydia had not – but no, there was no point in revisiting such thoughts!

“Come, let us wait outside the parlour door,” she suggested.

Fifteen minutes later, Jane and Mr. Bingley emerged from the parlour, both beaming with happiness and their lips suspiciously swollen. They were immediately surrounded by Elizabeth, Mary and Kitty. Laughing with joy, the girls congratulated the happy couple.

“But not until February, of course,” Jane said, giggling with happiness.

“Does that mean you’ll have to wear black at your wedding? Or no, I suppose perhaps lavender, right?” Kitty asked.

“Yes, lavender. It will look lovely with Jane’s golden hair,” Elizabeth said.

This led to a spirited discussion of what flowers might be available in February to decorate the church. The unspoken question on everyone’s mind was whether Elizabeth would be a bride in February as well.

***

Upon his return to Netherfield, Mr. Bingley’s countenance told the story at once. “I take it that congratulations are in order, Charles?” Mrs. Hurst asked him.

“Yes, and thank you!”

“You will be a very happy man,” Mr. Darcy said. “Miss Bennet is perfect for you in every way.”

“And what about you, Darcy?” Mr. Bingley, secure in his own happiness, wished nothing more than for his best friend to have the same.

“You know my situation, I believe,” Mr. Darcy replied, gravely.

“I am sorry, Darcy. That was thoughtless of me.”

Mr. Darcy simply nodded his head. Indeed, the issue of Lydia’s absence was rarely far from his mind. He would be delighted to marry Miss Elizabeth no matter what, but he knew quite well that she might not accept his offer – again! – if it would injure Georgiana.