Chapter Twenty-Six #2
Just then, Jane and Bingley approached, their expressions alight with mirth.
“You sly thing!” Jane’s laughter belied her reproach. “Not a word, not a single hint! And you—” she wagged a finger in mock reproof—“you spent the whole day being perfectly composed. I had forgotten entirely about your secret admirer!”
Elizabeth grinned, feigning innocence. “It was all very mysterious, was it not?”
Darcy inclined his head. “I had the distinct impression Elizabeth enjoyed being mysterious.”
Bingley clapped Darcy on the back, laughing.
“And you! Keeping silent when I have been agonizing over invitations and estates and managing my sisters. I demand a forfeit, Darcy.” He paused.
“Oh! Caroline will be furious when she hears what the season in Hertfordshire has produced: your betrothal to Miss Elizabeth, my own happiness secured, and even a match for Miss Mary. She long wished for a closer connection between our families. She will have it, though not in the manner that she intended. That alone is prize enough, I think.”
At that moment, Mary and Sanderson joined them. Her cheeks were flushed, her hand snug in her betrothed’s.
Sanderson tipped his head toward Darcy and Bingley. “It seems congratulations are in order for us all.”
Mary added primly, though her eyes betrayed delight, “It is a remarkable thing that all three of us should become engaged within such a short time.”
Elizabeth caught Jane and Mary’s hands. “Shall we marry on the same day? We would cause quite a stir, the three of us entering the church together.”
Mary and Jane agreed at once, and Bingley lent his ready assent. “There is wisdom in that. We ought to consult your father; he will appreciate one wedding breakfast instead of three.”
“I dare say he will approve on account of the expense.” Jane’s smile held a wry twist. “Though Mama will likely suffer a fit of nerves.”
Darcy‘s amusement deepened. “Shall we have her salts at the ready?”
Sanderson chuckled. “We shall simply keep the window open; the air will revive her.”
The three couples stood close, a triangle of affection and resolve, laughter threading easily among them.
Darcy leaned nearer, his subdued fervor unmistakable. “We gentlemen have waited long enough. I, for one, do not intend to delay in claiming my bride.”
Bingley raised his glass. “To haste—blessed haste.”
Sanderson echoed, “To our brides—and a joyful union for us all.”
Their glasses met in perfect accord, the sound clear against the soft hum of merriment. Elizabeth found Darcy’s eyes, her smile blooming once more.
It was a new beginning, and it would be a very happy one indeed.
As the Bennet carriage rumbled along the lane toward Longbourn, Elizabeth sat nestled beside Jane, her gloved hands resting upon the sapphire shawl Darcy had given her.
Mrs. Bennet chattered happily from the seat opposite, praising Providence in loud and effusive tones.
“Three daughters well married! It is a blessing indeed. God has been very good to us, and just wait until I order the lace—”
“No lace, Mrs. Bennet! Let that wait until morning.” Mr. Bennet checked her with sly humor, and the conversation shifted.
On arriving home, Lydia cast a speculative look at Elizabeth’s attire and gave a dramatic sigh. “Lizzy, you look far too fine. All those beautiful things. ’Tis positively unfair!”
Mrs. Bennet turned to truly take in her daughter for the first time, eyes widening as they swept over the pearl necklace, the gloves, the pins. “From your betrothed? Indeed, Mr. Darcy is very generous. A fine man! I always said he had good sense.”
“You said he was proud and disagreeable!” Lydia protested. She folded her arms; jealousy, coupled with a sulky pout was writ large upon her countenance.
“Hush, Lydia.” Mrs. Bennet swatted at the air. “That was before I knew how very generous and very attentive he could be. Your sister is most fortunate to have secured such a man. Who would have thought he should prefer an impertinent miss?”
“I only meant,” Lydia huffed, “that I would not mind borrowing a few of Lizzy’s things.”
“Absolutely not.” Mrs. Bennet regarded her daughter intently. “That would offend Mr. Darcy, and we must be very respectful. Very respectful indeed.”
Elizabeth felt nothing but relief at this. Her mother would not permit Lydia’s usual pilfering when it came to her future son-in-law. That meant Elizabeth could display her gifts without fear.
Both Kitty and Lydia clamored to know whether they might stand up with their sisters at the wedding, talking over one another until Jane interposed gently.
“We can discuss it in the morning, dears,” she said. “Let us all rest for now.”
Elizabeth rose and bid her sisters good night, and retired to her chamber.
As she laid her head upon the pillow, her heart overflowing, she closed her eyes and dreamed of Darcy—of his steady regard, his tender words, and the life awaiting them.
Her future was no longer uncertain, for it was secured in love, and it was hers.