Page 33 of He Insulted My Entire Family Before Proposing

But for now, there was music.

Darcy offered his arm.

"Will you dance once more, Miss Elizabeth?"

"With pleasure," Elizabeth said. "But you must be warned. I am barely tolerable."

His smile, when it came, belonged entirely to her.

"Then I am lost," he said.

And this time, when the words traveled through the room, they carried no insult at all.

EPILOGUE

Mrs. Bennet received the news of Elizabeth's engagement to Mr. Darcy with all the restraint of a church bell in a thunderstorm.

Elizabeth had told Jane after the assembly, because happiness of that size required one safe witness. The rest of Longbourn learned at breakfast the next morning; Mrs. Bennet could not be trusted with such news after midnight without waking the county.

For three minutes she could not speak at all, which Mr. Bennet later called the happiest evidence of Mr. Darcy's fortune. Then speech returned with interest. She cried that she had always known Lizzy was her cleverest child, except when Jane was her sweetest, and that ten thousand a year was a noble answer to anyone who had ever criticized lively manners. She asked whether Pemberley had enough bedrooms for all her nerves, whether Lady Catherine would come to the wedding, whether lace from London would be too plain, and whether Mr. Darcy preferred white soup.

"Mamma," Elizabeth said, "he has survived my refusal, Lady Catherine's displeasure, and Mary at the pianoforte. I do not think soup will overthrow him."

"Do not be pert, Lizzy. Rich men may dislike pert remarks after marriage."

Mr. Bennet looked over his spectacles. "Then Mr. Darcy has chosen very poorly."

When Darcy came later that morning to receive Mr. Bennet's consent, he was instead placed in the center of a domestic weather system. He bowed with admirable gravity. "I hope to deserve the risk, sir."

Mr. Bennet's eyes warmed in spite of himself. "See that you do. My daughter is ridiculous enough to love, but too sensible to manage. Remember that distinction and you may live."

"I will remember it."

Elizabeth, standing near the window, felt the sentence settle into her like a promise made where it mattered. Not in a grove. Not in a private letter. Not in a proposal sharpened by objection. Here, under the gaze of the father who laughed too often, the mother who spoke too much, the sisters who listened badly, and Jane, dear Jane, whose happiness had been restored but not cheaply purchased.

Darcy did not flinch from them.

That mattered.

News, once released into Hertfordshire, traveled with the speed of a dropped tray and about as much discretion. Mrs. Philips heard it before dinner and improved it by supper. Mrs. Long declared she had always thought Mr. Darcy admired Elizabeth, though Elizabeth recalled with precision that Mrs. Long had once called him disagreeable enough to sour cream. The milliner's assistant reported that Miss Bingley had left the assembly early in the Hurst carriage with a headache, which several ladies agreed was what came of looking grand while losing.

Lady Catherine wrote three letters.

The first was to Darcy at Netherfield. He told Elizabeth of it during his next call at Longbourn, with Jane nearby and Mrs. Bennet close enough to be reassured by the sight of ten thousand a year behaving properly. He did not show Elizabeth the letter. He merely said that his aunt had objected in her usual style and that he meant to answer briefly.

"Politely?" Elizabeth asked.

"Briefly."

"How alarming. She may not recover."

His mouth curved. "I intend to say that I am sensible of her concern, decided in my choice, and happy in my prospects."

"No apology?"

"None."

"You are becoming positively rebellious."