Page 72 of The Riches of a Life Well-Lived

Saturday, December 14, 1811—25 Days after Tuesday

“Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy are here again,” Lydia said listlessly from her perch by the window.

Kitty groaned. “At least Mr. Darcy talks to me, but Mr. Bingley is so engrossed in you, Jane, that I swear he does not even realise there is anyone else in the room when you are here. I am dying to go somewhere other than our sitting room. Why cannot they stay away for at least one day?”

“Now, now, we must present polite fronts. We do not wish to scare Mr. Bingley off with unpleasantness,” Mrs. Bennet said in a worried, breathy tone.

“If the man has not yet been scared off, I doubt any unpleasantness will do it,” Lydia remarked.

Mrs. Bennet’s hands fluttered to her chest and then she reached out to squeeze Jane’s cheeks almost absentmindedly. “Still, we will not have a home here whenever your father—well, we must do our best not to damage Jane’s chances.” She turned to Jane with a critical eye. “You have been so pale this morning, my love. Did you not sleep well?”

Elizabeth winced. Jane had come into her room, expecting a joyous celebration where they could happily moon over their respective betrotheds, and instead, she had found her sister sobbing into her pillow. Jane’s serene spirit had comforted Elizabeth, eventually, but they had been up into the wee hours talking about this development with their father. If Mr. Bennet refused to give his consent, Jane had already reached her majority and it would only be a year until Elizabeth did so. She could not imagine her father being so foolhardy, and yet....

If anyone could manage Thomas Bennet, Mrs. Engel could. Her own feelings were such a jumble of pain and grief and love and longing and resentment that she could no longer trust herself to know what might be best.

“Good morning, ladies,” Mr. Bingley said as he entered, bowing to them all and beaming at Jane.

William followed suit, remarking that Mrs. Bennet looked well this morning.

Mrs. Bennet smiled broadly and gestured for them to be seated. William had just asked if she had slept well last night when the door opened once more and Mr. Bennet entered. The gentlemen stood up and bowed again.

“Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley, back so soon,” he commented.

William merely inclined his head.

“Mr. Bennet, did you need something?” Mrs. Bennet asked.

The man gave her a small smile. “Merely to greet our guests.” He gestured for them to return to their seats and sat down near Elizabeth’s mother.

Elizabeth sent William a questioning look, and he shrugged.

Conversation continued in a desultory fashion for several minutes before Mr. Bennet looked over at William. “I am surprised you have not already suggested a walk about the gardens.”

William raised one eyebrow. “Did you desire a turn about the gardens, sir?”

Mr. Bennet chuckled. “No, it is a bit chilly for old bones. I merely thought you young lovebirds would have made a bid for escape already.”

“Lovebirds?” Mrs. Bennet asked, staring back and forth between Mr. Bingley and Jane with a hopeful expression.

“Mr. Darcy has asked for Lizzy’s hand, and I have decided to accede to our daughter’s wishes and give my consent,” Mr. Bennet said with a smile.

Mrs. Bennet blinked at him and then looked at Lizzy, a mute appeal in her eyes.

Elizabeth suppressed a sigh. This was not at all how she would have chosen to announce the matter. At least her father was giving his consent. “I have accepted Mr. Darcy, Mama.”

Mrs. Bennet nearly collapsed, a hand across her heart. “Oh, thank heaven! We are saved!” She smiled at Mr. Darcy. “I had no idea, but I am so glad. Oh, good heavens, the wedding! We shall have to go to London for wedding clothes!” She turned to Elizabeth and began listing off all the things they would need to procure.

William cleared his throat. “I would very much like for Miss Elizabeth to meet my sister and my aunt and uncle before the wedding. May I accompany you to London?”

Mrs. Bennet nodded. “Of course. And if there is a dressmaker you desire us to use―”

Mr. Bennet stood. “I believe that is my cue to return to my library. Once discussion turns to dressmakers, I prefer to make myself scarce.”

Mrs. Bennet tittered. “He has no tolerance for lace,” she told William.

William nodded. “Few men do. As I am my sister’s guardian, I have had to develop one, but I must confess that I leave many of the details of dress to my aunt.”

“May I join you, Mr. Bennet?” Mr. Bingley asked.

The man’s eyebrows went up, but he nodded and the two gentlemen left.

Darcy did his best to remain attentive to Mrs. Bennet’s excited questions and comments about the wedding, wedding clothes, and their upcoming trip to London, despite their repetitive nature and the itch to speak to Miss Lydia. At least he had managed to slip her the packet of Wickham-related papers. He had been hoping to sit with her while she read them. Perhaps it was for the best though: Mrs. Bennet was too distracted to interrupt her youngest daughter and Miss Lydia had no one to argue with but the facts.

It was not entirely a loss. He did suggest a few things, such as that Elizabeth wait to get the majority of her clothes until she knew what would be fashionable for the Season; styles changed so quickly (and he would rather pay for Elizabeth’s dresses than burden his future family). He also suggested that the whole family tour Darcy House, and then Elizabeth could commission any changes she desired.

As Mrs. Bennet’s effusions continued, Darcy wished that Mr. Bennet had waited to announce their betrothal—although perhaps he ought to just be glad that the man had given his consent. He would not have interrupted his future mother’s exclamations and plans for himself, but Elizabeth began to look a bit flagged. Before he could suggest a quick turn about the gardens, however, Mr. Bennet reappeared.

“Apparently, it is a day for betrothals,” the man told his wife. “Mr. Bingley has just asked for Jane’s hand and I have given him my consent.”

Mrs. Bennet’s eyes went wider than saucers. “Oh, Mr. Bennet, you are not joking, are you?”

He opened his mouth and then closed it. “No, my dear,” he said with a hint of gentleness.

Mrs. Bennet threw herself at Jane, gathering her into a tight embrace. “Oh, I knew you could not be so beautiful for nothing! I am so proud of you, my Jane! Five thousand pounds a year! And Mr. Darcy at ten thousand—oh, I shall go distracted!”

Elizabeth blushed, and Darcy gave her a small smile. Mrs. Bennet might sound mercenary, but she was just concerned with her daughters’ well-being.

Mrs. Bennet put an arm around Jane and pulled her down onto the settee next to her. “Oh, goodness. Two wedding breakfasts! Well, at least we are already planning to go to London for Elizabeth’s trousseau.”

Miss Bennet cleared her throat. “Actually, Mama, Lizzy and I would prefer a joint wedding. Then you would only have to make one wedding breakfast.”

Mrs. Bennet waved off the request. “Nonsense! Your father will have to give me an advance for this; the estate can certainly afford two wedding breakfasts.”

“That is kind of you, Mrs. Bennet,” Darcy said. “But there is no need for it. A double wedding with one of my dearest friends would be pleasant, and as it is what the ladies desire, I would prefer to honour that request.”

Mrs. Bennet’s brow puckered. “Oh, well, that is very kind of you, Mr. Darcy, but there is truly no need for such economies.”

Darcy came to stand in front of her and crouched down, taking her hands in his own. “I know. If Miss Elizabeth wanted a grand breakfast of her own, I would be the first to support inviting everyone in the county. But, truly, it is more important to me that my bride has the wedding she desires than that we have a celebration of our own. Will you help me accomplish that, Mrs. Bennet?”

She coloured. “Of course, if that is really what you want.”

“It is.”

Mr. Bennet cleared his throat and Darcy stood, meeting the man’s glare with a steady look.

It was more than an hour later before they were able to escape into the gardens. Elizabeth slumped against Darcy the moment they were out of sight of the sitting-room windows. “I thought we would never get out of there.”

He briefly pulled her close and then released her. “Your mother is certainly enthusiastic about the wedding clothes. It makes sense though: she has been longing for this day for years. It must be of surpassing relief that she and her daughters no longer have to worry about ‘living in the hedgerows.’ ”

Elizabeth sighed. “You are probably right.”

“I agree,” Jane put in as she and Mr. Bingley caught up to the two of them. “Mama has been beside herself for so long. I expect her enthusiasm will last for some time.” Jane looked pensive. “Though she may grow anxious if we wait too long to wed. In fact, I am surprised ‘when’ was not her first question.”

“I, for one, will be anxious as well if we wait too long,” Mr. Bingley said with a smile.

Darcy nodded. “As will I.”

Elizabeth smiled shyly up at him. “I imagine we all will. Not to mention that we will be unable to escape talk of weddings and breakfasts until after they actually occur.”

“Well, then we should set a date,” Mr. Bingley said. “Really, we probably ought to have discussed this yesterday and then we could have presented your mother with a date today.”

Elizabeth shrugged. “It takes three weeks to read the banns. Mama will probably request that you procure a special licence, but I do not think such an expense is necessary.” She cast an inquiring look at Darcy.

He nodded. “I probably could obtain one. My uncle has connections to the archbishop, but I would rather avoid any suggestion of impropriety.”

“How long will the trip to London take?” Mr. Bingley asked. “Can you ladies get enough dresses made in time if we set a date in, say, a month from now?”

“A month should be just right to prepare,” Jane said.

Elizabeth nodded.

“Good, I would not want to wait any longer,” Darcy said with a smile.