“This cannot be true! Mr Darcy, you must deny this post-haste! She is trying to entrap you!”
Caroline turned completely red, a colour that clashed horribly with her dress and her hair, which, come to think of it, clashed with each other even before the altercation.
Bingley said, “What say you, Darcy? I count 17.”
“I believe so, but Miss Bennet could tell you without counting.”
“There were 17, meaning £850 at your specified rate.”
Bingley turned to his sister resignedly. “There goes next season’s wardrobe. I suggest more silence, and it goes without saying that this is aprivateconversation, and should rumours escape this group, I willassumeyou are the culprit and cut you off entirely.Am I rightly understood?”
Caroline stared in abject horror, so Bingley continued, “Just nod your head.”
She reluctantly did so, and Bingley turned back. “I apologise for interrupting such an important conversation. I cannot say how sorry I am.”
“I wish you would not,” Darcy said. “The conversation is doing just fine. Your sister adds a certain spice.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I ordinarily prefer a plain dish to a ragout, but I agree in this case.”
Bingley laughed. “Miss Bennet, you and Darcy seem to know a great deal about each other that the rest of us are not privy to. Would it be impertinent to ask Darcy to explain the honour of his triumph?”
Everyone except Caroline laughed, though most of them had no idea what was happening.
“Should I explain, Miss Bennet?”
“Proceed.”
“I believe I have found your Achilles heel. This is another sequencing problem with mismatched prerequisites.”
“All right, it is a nice lure, and the cast was tolerable. I will bite. Careful how you set the hook.”
“Did you know that many in India think the English do things backwards? We all want to fall in love and marry, whereas their marriages are frequently arranged. They think you marry then fall in love.”
Fascinated, Elizabeth asked, “I have not read about this. How does the system work?”
“Among the higher ranks, marriages are frequently more like business arrangements, much like those in English high society. For most, their families try to pick suitable mates by matching characteristics they think will suit in the long run.”
Elizabeth nodded in thought. “The very idea rails against my sensibilities, but it is difficult to judge whether it rails against something fundamental, or simply conflicts with many years of thinking as an English lady is taught. I believe Miss Lucas would have been happy to be born into Indian society. It would have saved her a great deal of trouble and consternation.”
Mrs Gardiner said, “This is indeed fascinating, but I am still unable to resolve this ambiguity—and I remain unconvinced that all of us should be in such a public discussion.”
Elizabeth said, “Perhaps, but I do not mind. Do you, Mr Darcy? I think we can trust Mr Bingley to keep his friend’s confidence, and I believe we can trust Miss Bingley to keep quiet as the grave about anything that might help me do whatever it is that I am supposedly doing. Naturally, Mr Newton and Kep are proven trustworthy.”
Darcy laughed. Miss Bingley scowled, but nodded in agreement… or defeat. Plainly, she had no desire to be banned from Pemberley forever.
“Now we come to the ambiguous part,” Darcy said. “I fully intend to court Miss Bennet for the foreseeable future the way a woman should be courted by a man. Whether that courtship happens before, during, or after a wedding ceremony makes little difference. Should we come to an agreement, I will follow any sequence she desires.”
Elizabeth gasped to hear it spoken so plainly. She should have been prepared for the bold declaration, since she started the rock rolling down the hill in the first place, but the plain words filled her with trepidation.
Darcy stepped before her and held out his hands, palms up. She took them without thought.
“Now you know. This was not how I planned this. I intended something more subtle and—ah—private, but I would like to court you and marry you, in whatever sequence you choose.”
They stood staring at each other in some wonder, both trying to understand how they had placed themselves into such an awkward position and wondering what came next?
He smiled engagingly. “At your earliest convenience.”
Darcy must have recognised he had gone too far, for the telltale signs of an impending thought storm brewed. It appearedhis Elizabethhad bitten off more than she could chew, so he followed the time-honoured and efficient technique of kicking her.
