CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Jane Bennet Says Yes
Charles Bingley proposed to Jane three days after the Netherfield ball.
He had intended to wait. He had also intended to speak eloquently.
Neither intention survived being alone with her in the Longbourn shrubbery.
The morning was bright and cold. Jane wore a blue cloak.
Bingley had been discussing an entirely unrelated subject involving a new tenant at Netherfield when she smiled at him.
He stopped in the middle of a sentence.
Jane waited.
“Marry me.”
Her eyes widened.
Bingley went red. “That was abrupt.”
Jane’s mouth trembled.
“I had a speech.”
“Did you?”
“A very good one.”
“I am sorry to have missed it.”
“You smiled.”
“I often do.”
“Yes, but—” He ran a hand through his hair. “Jane, I love you. I have loved you since nearly the first evening I knew you. I was foolish and allowed other people to make me doubt what I had seen for myself. I left you without explanation. I will regret that for the rest of my life.”
Jane’s smile faded into tenderness.
“I do not ask you to forget it,” he continued. “Only to believe I have learned from it. I cannot promise never to be influenced by anyone again. That would be absurd. But I promise never again to hand someone else the responsibility of deciding my heart for me.”
Jane’s eyes filled.
Bingley took both her hands. “Will you marry me?”
“Yes.”
He stared.
Jane laughed softly. “You may kiss me now, if you wish.”
Bingley did not hesitate to do so.
He then ran back to Longbourn so quickly that Jane had to remind him they ought to walk together.
Mrs. Bennet screamed when they told her. There was no gentler word for it. She screamed, sat down abruptly, began crying, stood again, kissed Bingley, kissed Jane, told Hill to open a bottle of wine, and then announced to no one in particular that she had always known it.
Mr. Bennet looked at Jane. “You are certain?”
Jane smiled. “Very.”
He turned to Bingley. “And you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. One sensible answer between you should be sufficient.”
Bingley laughed.
Mr. Bennet’s eyes softened. He embraced Jane longer than he usually embraced anyone. “My dear girl.”
Elizabeth waited until the room became too noisy, then pulled Jane into the hallway. “You are happy?”
Jane’s face answered before her words. “Very.”
Elizabeth hugged her. “I am glad.”
Jane held her tightly. “Your turn.”
Elizabeth drew back. “Do not become Mama.”
“I said two words.”
“They were dangerous words.”
Jane smiled serenely. “You love him.”
Elizabeth looked toward the drawing-room door. Darcy was inside, speaking with Bingley. His cane leaned against his chair. Georgiana sat nearby with Kitty. Richard was stealing a piece of cake before Cook had officially served it.
“I am not sure when it happened,” Elizabeth said.
Jane squeezed her hand. “Does it matter?”
“I thought him everything disagreeable.”
“You thought Wickham agreeable.”
“Cruel.”
“True.”
Elizabeth laughed softly.
Jane said, “I think you began loving Mr. Darcy when you stopped needing him to be wrong.”
Elizabeth stared at her.
Jane’s smile was gentle. “I do observe things, Lizzy.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said. “I begin to understand that.”