Thatwas an excellent idea.
Epilogue
Elizabeth
ThedrawingroomatNetherfield Park looked a great deal better with all the furnishings uncovered and the candles lit.
Ten days had passed since our little adventure in London. Mr. Bingley was now fully in residence, having met all the neighbors and selected his favorite—already. No one was surprised when he took to calling on Jane nearly every day, and Mama was already making wedding preparations in anticipation of my sister snagging the most eligible bachelor in Hertfordshire.
But today was about William and me.
Though a betrothal dinner ought typically to be hosted by the bride’s family, Mr. Bingley had graciously opened his new home to nearly everyone within fifty miles. It was a fortunate thing, too, because everyone seemed inclined to accept the invitation—including the Earl of Matlock, who looked curiously like that sketch I was supposed to turn into a clay bust.
With him came Lady Matlock, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and two or three others whose rank had impressed Mr. Bingley’s sisters into civility and Mama into silence. Aunt and Uncle Gardiner had even made the journey from London, so we could not have all fit in Longbourn’s drawing room.
Charlotte found me after supper when we ladies had all withdrawn from the dining room. She settled beside me with a cup of coffee and an exceedingly smug grin. “Well, Lizzy? How well do you like the business of being betrothed?”
I smiled and lowered my cup. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Hypocrite! You know very well what it means. Does your Mr. Darcy kiss better than that burglar who was besieging our neighborhood?”
I lifted a shoulder. “Yes, and no.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Well, is it yes, or is it no?”
“I believe I shall demur by observing that Mr. Darcy improves upon closer acquaintance.”
Charlotte pursed her lips, then shook her head. “You are not telling me something, but you may keep your little secret. Would you like to know mine?”
“Oh, by all means.” I sipped from my coffee and waited.
She preened and straightened. “Do you recall how I swore that Mr. Collins only wanted instruction in the art?”
I almost spilled coffee on my skirt. “No. Charlotte, you didn’t!”
“I very muchdid, and I have never been so correct about anything in my life. You have no idea what you missed out on.”
I set my cup aside, for my stomach had suddenly died. I clutched it and tried with all my might not to gag. “Charlotte, you cannot be serious.”
“I most certainly am. Honestly, when you get past the tea slurping and the excessive sweating, he really is quite a catch.”
I winced. “And the complete and utter obsequious arrogance, and the long hair he combs over his bald spot.”
“Oh, I talked him into cutting that off. He likes it when I stroke his head.”
My eyes crossed. “Charlotte, I’m going to be sick. Can you please—”
“We are to be married, you know. He wrote to me once he returned to Rosings with Lady Catherine’s approval. Fancy that! Me, married at twenty-seven!”
I tried to swallow and started fanning myself. “He had to ask Lady Catherine if he could marry you?”
“Yes, I was so honored! By the by, did you know that Lady Catherine had a burglar herself?”
A hint of a smile tugged at my mouth, but I fought it back. “How very interesting.”
“Indeed! The thief took only an old statue. No money, no jewelry. Is that not odd?”
“Mmm-hmm.” I hid behind my coffee cup. “Very odd.”
