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 threethousand 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 seenas 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.
Chapter Eighty-Four
Mr. Bingley returned home in a joyful frame of mind. He whistled as he rode his horse, he threw the stable boy a shilling when he dismounted, he smiled broadly at Mr. Howard, and even beamed at Caroline, who was coming down the stairs as he entered.
“Well, what has you so happy today, Charles?” she asked, sourly.
“I have just gotten engaged to Miss Bennet!” he exclaimed. “I am to be married on the fourth of February.”
“And you did not think to speak with me first?” she demanded, hands on her hips.
“Not for even a moment,” he declared, pushing past her. “Where is Darcy?”
She shrugged and then stared after him as he walked past her, humming happily.
Mr. Bingley found his friend in the library, staring mournfully at the empty shelves. “If you plan to live here, you truly should do something about this,” Mr. Darcy informed Mr. Bingley, frowning.
“As neither Jane nor I are great readers, it is not my first priority,” Mr. Bingley replied, grinning.
“Jane? Jane? Have you something of importance to tell me, Bingley?”
“Yes; congratulate me, Darcy, for I am going to be married to the most beautiful woman in the world!”
Mr. Darcy congratulated his friend almost mechanically, his mind whirling. Miss Elizabeth was now unquestionably, unconditionally free of Bingley! But his friend was still speaking. “…and on the day we wed, I will give Mr. Bennet the three thousand pounds he requires.”
