Page 158 of Mr. Darcy Comes to Town

“He is a doctor. His future looks promising. Papa knows this.”

Lizzy saw that Mary could not concentrate on her reassurances. They stood together, arm-in-arm, waiting for the front door to open. Lydia and Kitty came bouncing down the stairs at one point. Then, Lydia said, “Oh, Lord, not Mary,” and they retreated back up the stairs. Lizzy shook her head and patted Mary’s arm.

“I care nothing for the opinions of my younger sisters,” Mary stated.

Her hand strayed to her mouth, her thumb extended. Mary looked to Lizzy like she intended to chew on her thumbnail. Then, her sister folded her thumb into her fist and pressed the fist to her lips.

“You know, Mary, it has occurred to me that we were all born too close together,” Lizzy stated.

Mary looked at her, startled. “What can you mean?”

“You are my next younger sister but I do not remember your arrival into our family because I am only fourteen months older than you. If I had been three years old, I could have marveled at your arrival. I miss that opportunity to marvel at you.”

Clicking her tongue, Mary said, “You are being foolish beyond permission. Do you recall marveling at Kitty’s birth? She is three years younger. Or at Lydia’s, who is five years your junior?”

Lizzy wrinkled her nose. “I barely remember Kitty’s arrival into our family circle, but I remember Lydia’s. She cried incessantly.”

Mary sighed and looked back toward the door. “I expect she had colic.” Her arm squeezed Lizzy’s even tighter. “What is taking so long?”

“Listen, someone is on the outside step,” Lizzy said, pulling Mary closer to the door in anticipation of greeting their father—and hopefully Oscar.

The door opened at last and their father entered. He checked himself on the threshold. Behind him, lit braziers adorned the night with golden, dancing halos. “You are anxious to know the result, no doubt, dear Mary. I invite you to go outside and ask the young doctor. I asked him inside—as I hope you know—but he refused, on the grounds of typhus.” He shrugged and moved to one side so as not to be bowled down by his middle daughter.

Lizzy waited until her father closed the door, leaving them alone in the entrance hall. “Well, Papa? Are we well-pleased?”

He nodded, walking toward her with his hands behind his back. “I am. Are you?”

“I am, indeed,” Lizzy said, grinning and grasping his arm when he reached her. “Will Mama be pleased?”

“That is another matter entirely,” Papa said. “However, since she seemed to be happy with a rector’s income, she should be happy with a doctor’s potential.”

“It is not quite the same,” Lizzy reminded him. “Oscar will not inherit Longbourn.”

Her father grimaced. “As you say.”

“Papa? I think Mary and Oscar should be married soon.”

“Before Jane and Bingley?” Papa asked, his eyes widening.

Lizzy grinned. “Is there any real sense in worrying which of your daughters is married first?”

“I care nothing for the order,” he protested. “But your mother will.”

“Jane will not,” Lizzy avowed.

Her father pinched her chin. “You are trying to get me into trouble.”

Lizzy shrugged. “Mary and Oscar may not wish to get married before Jane, but if they like the idea, will you support them?” She endured a moment of his scrutiny and then Lizzy added, “Mary wants a small wedding. The sooner she is wed, the less teasing she will need to endure from Lydia and Kitty.”

“That last argument is true,” Papa mused. He nodded. “Very well. I will support them if they wish to marry soon. Nothing too hasty, mind. I do not wish to endure even a whisper of our neighbors wondering why they are marrying so swiftly.”

“I will suggest February,” Lizzy said. “Four months is a respectable length of time.”

“Do not badger her into it,” Papa warned.

“I will steer, only,” she promised. “Oscar’s mother is sure to have an opinion on the matter.”

Her father nodded, patted her hand, and walked off in the direction of his bookroom.