Chapter Eighty-Three
Miss Lucas is here to see you, Mr. Bingley,” Mr. Howard announced.
“Me?” Mr. Bingley’s eyes opened wide.
“Yes, and she says she must speak with you alone.”
“This is highly improper,” Mr. Bingley muttered.
Mr. Bingley was not in the best of humours.
He had scarce slept a wink since he had visited Longbourn to propose to Miss Bennet, only to have her refuse to see him.
His first instinct was to decline to see Miss Lucas; whatever it was that she wanted, she should ask Louisa or Caroline instead.
Certainly she should not be found alone with him.
Then he recalled that Miss Lucas and Miss Bennet were fast friends; perhaps Miss Lucas could help him understand what he had done wrong with Miss Bennet?
Well, with both Miss Bennets, come to that, for Miss Elizabeth had vanished without a word, and now his Miss Bennet, Miss Jane Bennet, would not see him.
Mr. Howard had already turned to leave, but Mr. Bingley called him back. “Never mind, Howard; I will see her in the library.”
Howard raised a questioning brow at his master, but finally nodded and departed.
Mr. Bingley went to the library and gazed at the mostly empty shelves for about half a minute before Mr. Howard came in with Miss Lucas.
“Please sit, Miss Lucas,” he said, politely. “I apologise that there is no fire, but you wished to speak with me privately and the drawing room cannot accommodate that request.”
Charlotte took a seat and wasted no time. “Mr. Bingley, doubtless you are very confused by the behaviour of my good friends, Jane and Elizabeth Bennet.”
“I am, yes,” he admitted, guardedly.
“I am here to explain everything.”
***
Ten minutes later, Mr. Bingley was on his horse, riding at full gallop to Longbourn.
***
Jane sat in the parlour with her sewing in her lap.
Her hands were still; her face was drawn tight.
She was embarrassed, truth be told, that she had told Charlotte Lucas so much.
She was accustomed to confiding in Elizabeth, but not Charlotte, and now she was an object of pity to Charlotte. It was all too, too much.
Mrs. Hill appeared in the doorway. “It is Mr. Bingley, here to see you.”
Jane rose at once, panicked. “I am not here, Mrs. Hill. Do you hear me? I will not see him!”
Mr. Bingley pushed his way past Mrs. Hill and strode in. “You will see me, Jane. I insist upon it!”
Jane drew herself up and tried to respond coldly, though her voice shook. “It is Miss Bennet to you, Mr. Bingley.”
He walked right up to her, dropped down onto one knee and said, “Miss Bennet, I have loved you and only you since the moment I saw you. I know all about the three thousand pounds, and it does not matter. I will happily give your father three thousand pounds on the day we wed, for is it not proper to help one’s family?
Please, please say that you will marry me!
For I do not know how to live without you.
” His voice broke on that last sentence.
Jane, shocked, could not move at once. But then she dropped to the carpet beside him, tears gathering in her eyes. “Oh, Mr. Bingley! How can you possibly want me? I have no dowry, no connections, and an – an impoverished family!”
“It does not matter, not in the least,” Mr. Bingley said, his own eyes now wet as well. “I care not for the money; what does it matter? I only want you to be my wife, to live with me, to sleep beside me, to never leave my side. Say that you will, dear heart, I beg you!”
“Oh, I will, I will!” And with that, Jane threw herself into his arms. The two of them tumbled down onto the rug together, now laughing with happiness.
Mrs. Bennet, who had been alerted by Mrs. Hill as to Mr. Bingley’s presence, walked in on this scene and was appalled. “Jane! Heavens! Get up this instant! Whatever are you about?!”
“Do not scold her, Mrs. Bennet,” Mr. Bingley said, untangling himself and offering Jane a hand to help her up. “She has just made me the happiest of men!”
“Oh! Oh! At last! Thank the Lord! Mr. Bennet! Mr. Bennet!” And off she went to find her spouse.
A quarter of an hour later, Mr. Bennet, Mrs. Bennet, Mr. Bingley and Jane were seated in the parlour, decorously drinking weak tea. If the newly engaged couple were holding hands as they sat on the sofa together, it was surely no one’s business but their own.
“How did you know about the three thousand pounds, Mr. Bingley?” Jane asked, shyly.
“Miss Lucas came to me not an hour ago and told me everything,” he said. “I honour you for not wanting to be seen as a fortune hunter, but we almost lost one another over it. From now on, you must be honest with me. And you will call me Charles, will you not?”
“Of course – Charles.” Jane spoke the name, ever so softly, but with a good deal of certainty. For had she not practiced it a hundred times in her head? Charles! Charles! Jane Bingley! Mrs. Charles Bingley! She would have to go and thank Charlotte this very day!
Mr. Bennet said, “I am mortified to have to ask you for money, Mr. Bingley. I wish with all my heart that it were not necessary, but –“
Mr. Bingley hastened to reassure him. “No need to explain; I understand completely, Mr. Bennet. Darcy tells me that farming is a decidedly dicey business, what with the weather and soil conditions and drainage and what not. I am fortunate to have inherited enough to – well, let us not talk of such things on a day as happy as this one!”
Mr. Bennet would have very much liked to talk about it; specifically, when could he expect it, but a withering look from Mrs. Bennet stopped him.
They discussed the date of the wedding; there was no impediment save the need to call the banns three times, so the date was set for the fourth of February.
Mr. Bennet thought this quite far off, given his financial circumstances. He hoped that when the news of the wedding went out, the merchants of Meryton would understand that the money was soon coming, and be willing to extent the family more credit.