Chapter Four
Charles Bingley was rather pleased with himself for coming up with an excuse to take Jane out of the room, when he noticed that she had become rather flushed after their dance.
The terrace was far too cold on a late November night, so instead he invited her to stroll with him along the hall and glance into a room which had been set up for cards.
“I must check on the comfort of all my guests, Miss Bennet, but I would not for a moment forego your company!”
“Nor I, yours,” Jane said, blushing even brighter.
After a glance into the card-room, they turned about and strolled back, Jane’s hand still on Bingley’s arm.
Glancing at her demurely downcast eyes and pink cheeks, Bingley made a decision.
He had thought about putting it off until he returned from the trip to London he must make on the morrow, but why wait?
His angel was right here with him, and he might never get a better opportunity to speak to her without everyone knowing what he was about.
No one else was in the hall; they were quite unobserved.
“If you will indulge me a moment longer, Miss Bennet?” He took a key from his pocket and opened a door which had previously been locked.
“But of course,” Jane said automatically, following him into the opened room. “Oh,” she gulped, as she realised it was obviously his study, and he was closing the door behind her. “Mr Bingley, we really should return to your guests…”
“Dearest, loveliest Jane,” he said, and she fell silent, her eyes widening as she realised what was happening.
“I do not care about any of my other guests. I want only to spend every minute of this night, and every minute of the rest of my life, in your company and ensuring your happiness. Would you do me the very great honour of agreeing to become my wife?”
“Oh, yes, please,” Jane said, surprising even herself with her emphatic agreement.
She knew she had said exactly the right thing as his delighted smile appeared, and a moment later he was taking her in his arms and bestowing her very first kiss.
Jane closed her eyes as his lips brushed lightly against hers.
Bingley deepened the kiss as she made no effort to pull away, and she reached up her hands to put them on his shoulders…
A knock on the door behind Jane made them both jump, and they separated and stared at each other, wide-eyed.
“Ahem,” Mr Bennet’s voice said politely from the other side of the door, “I am afraid I saw the two of you go in there, and five minutes is all I am prepared to allow you, Mr Bingley. I think perhaps the two of us should have a little word anyway?”
“Damn and blast,” Mr Bingley muttered. Jane for some reason found this unaccountably funny and began to laugh, her fingers coming up to cover her mouth as she tried to stop herself.
“I’m afraid you’ve compromised me hopelessly,” she giggled, “he’ll make you marry me!”
“That will be perfectly acceptable to me!” Bingley eyed her with amusement as he opened the door.
Mr Bennet slipped into the room and glanced at both of them, his eyes alight with mirth. “Well, since my daughter does not appear to be in any distress, Mr Bingley, is there anything you would like to ask me?”
“Miss Bennet has done me the very great honour of agreeing to become my wife…” Mr Bingley began a bit pompously, but Jane interrupted him.
“Oh, Papa, you will give us your blessing, will you not?”
“Dear Jane,” his smile broadened as he took in her flushed cheeks and slightly swollen lips.
“I think I had better. Yes, Mr Bingley, I shall be very glad to welcome you into my family. You don’t need to reassure me how much you will love and care for my daughter, I have been able to see it since the first moment you met, and I could not have parted with her to anyone who would not care for her as you will. ”
“Thank you, sir!” Mr Bingley seized his hand and shook it gratefully. “You will never regret it, I promise you.”
“Good, good,” Mr Bennet said equably, kissing his daughter’s pink cheek. “I daresay you will want to make the announcement at supper? Excellent. Now, Jane, he has mussed you a little, you had best go to the withdrawing-room and tidy yourself.”
Once his daughter had left the room, he turned to a rather red-faced Mr Bingley.
“I well remember how it is to be young and in love, sir, and a kiss upon the occasion of an engagement is quite the accepted thing these days, I believe, but there will be no more of that until after the two of you have said your vows, hmm?”
“Yes, sir,” said a rather chastened Mr Bingley, regretting that he had barely had a moment to snatch that long-desired kiss. “Would you be amenable to a wedding at Christmas-time, then?” He brightened. “We’d just have time to get the banns called…”
“I think if you call at Longbourn tomorrow, this would be a conversation you and Jane should have with Mrs Bennet,” Mr Bennet said, hastily retreating.
Imaginings of interminable talk of lace and wedding breakfasts floated through his head, and he said “I have no objections to a wedding sooner rather than later, if Jane agrees.”
Jane was, at that moment, floating into the withdrawing-room on a cloud of pure happiness. Dreamily, she smiled at herself in the mirror, making absolutely no effort to straighten her ruffled curls.
Elizabeth entered the room a few minutes later, a little disarranged herself after a rather energetic dance, and saw Jane. Arriving beside her, she observed her sister’s blissful countenance and disturbed appearance, and took it on herself to lightly tweak Jane’s curls back into place.
“You look very happy, dearest,” she said softly.
“Oh, Lizzy. If only everyone could be as happy as I! I do not deserve such happiness!”
“No one deserves it more than you, darling Jane,” Elizabeth smiled gladly on her sister. “Mr Bingley proposed?” she kept her voice very low, so that others would not overhear.
“It is to be announced at supper,” Jane whispered back, “he has Papa’s permission.”
Such joy was then Elizabeth’s, that she kissed Jane’s cheek, and assured her, though in low tones, that there could be no one who could wish the couple greater felicity.
Seeing then the eyes of other ladies turned to them in curiosity, Elizabeth threaded her arm through her sister’s and led her back to the ball-room.
No sooner had they entered but they were accosted by Mr Collins who, mopping his face with an increasingly limp and sodden handkerchief, was about to request of Elizabeth that she honour him with the next dance, having had to surrender the first to her aunt, than Jane held out an imperious hand.
“I am not engaged for this dance, Cousin. I am sure you did not mean to overlook my precedence, as the elder sister?” Nothing, not even a dance with Mr Collins, could blight Jane’s happiness that night, and she determined then and there that their idiot cousin would not impose himself on Elizabeth.
Catching Mr Bingley’s eye as he entered the room and approached her, she glanced meaningfully at Elizabeth, took Mr Collins’ hand and walked towards the forming line of couples.
“Are you engaged for this dance, Miss Elizabeth?” Bingley arrived at her side mere moments before Darcy, who had been trying to get to her through the crush since the moment he saw her walk back into the room. “If not, will you do me the honour?”
“Gladly, Mr Bingley!” Elizabeth accepted his hand, and was startled when Mr Darcy said;
“And if you might reserve the next set for me, Miss Elizabeth, I should be most grateful.”
“Er, yes, certainly, Mr Darcy,” was all the response she could think of to make, and was rewarded by the sight of him making her a rather low bow as Bingley led her away.
She stared back at him, perplexed, and found that he did not take his eyes from her.
But she was soon distracted by Mr Bingley, who had guessed from her smiling countenance that Jane had shared their news, and who was eager to receive her congratulations and welcome to the family, though they had to speak very quietly to avoid word being broadcast across the company rather sooner than they wished.
At the conclusion of the set, Mr Collins rushed to attempt again to engage Elizabeth, but this time she was able to inform him that she was already spoken for in the next set, and when Mr Darcy came to claim her, Mr Collins could do nothing but bow and scrape, and praise Mr Darcy for his excellent condescension in singling out Mr Collins’ own intended choice.
“Intended choice?” Mr Darcy said as soon as they were away from Mr Collins, “are you engaged, then, to Mr Collins?”
“Never!” cried Elizabeth, with passion, “it is all in his own head! I cannot approve of cousins marrying anyway, sir, I have been raised on a farm.” She gave him a meaningful look, and added, “I cannot but think that it must not be wise in humans either.”
“You are very wise, Miss Elizabeth, and your thoughts coincide perfectly with my own. It is precisely why I have resisted my aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Her attempts to engage me to her daughter Anne I consider to be ill-advised for the very reason you have just espoused.”
“Oh,” Elizabeth said, startled. “I had thought it was quite a settled thing, Mr Collins spoke of it…”
“It is my aunt’s desire, and no doubt she has spoken of it to her clergyman,” Darcy said grimly, “but mistake me not, both my cousin Anne and myself are determined that it shall not come to pass. Lady Catherine speaks of it as having been my late mother’s dearest wish, but my mother never spoke of it to me, and I was quite old enough when she passed for her to have done so. ”