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“It would be my greatest pleasure, Miss Lucas.”

He was perhaps too sincere and smooth with the manners, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

Fitzwilliam reluctantly let go of my waist, and I reluctantly released his lapels. He offered his arm, and I wrapped both hands around it. I thought I should step carefully because he looked like one misstep or tiny little stumble would have him carrying me, which would be very undignified, but… not as unpleasant as one might think; and it would not be the first time he carried me.

We arrived in front of the parsonage a merry party. Charlotte surprisingly had her hand on the crook of Richard’s arm, and they even had what appeared to be some light conversation in the few hundred yards. I had both hands wrapped around Fitzwilliam’s arm in a most unconventional and probably undignified manner, but I needed the support and he did not seem to mind. I had not had much chance to converse on the way, since I was still weak as a kitten, and was putting all my effort into not stumbling.

The path allowed me to see that someone had released my animals already, so they were not a concern. We continued on to the parsonage where we found the most unbelievable sight of the day. Seeing the parsonage in flames was not it, as that was just fire. What shocked me was seeing the last man in the world I expected: Mr Bingley.

Something about the man seemed altered, or perhaps my perceptions were. Whether I was any better at understanding others or worse was hard to say, but Mr Bingley seemed more… more… well, the only word I could come up with was solid. He was standing tall, his hands clasped behind his back, just watching the parsonage burn like Nero watching Rome when he heard our approach, and he looked like he had grown in stature since I last saw him, but I could not hazard a guess as to why.

He looked at us, and a smile graced his features. Even his smile seemed more solid than the amiable man of Netherfield sported. This one looked perhaps more genuine than what he had back a year ago, as if the old one were simply a habit but this one was felt.

I wondered what had happened during that year, but that was nothing compared to the absolute burning curiosity I carried about just what in the blazes he was doing here staring at my burning home.

He bowed, obviously acquainted with us all. “Good afternoon, Mrs Collins, Miss Lucas, Darcy, Richard. I am delighted to see you all.”

He spoke as if it were not the least bit incongruous. Neither Charlotte nor I was inclined to curtsy, and the two lunkheads were staring at him as if he had somehow landed on a griffin to hop down in front of us, but he just smiled and carried on.

Fitzwilliam said, “Bingley, I was not expecting you here.”

The man just laughed nearly uncontrollably for a moment while we all stared. “Yes, Darcy. It turns out you did not expect me, much to my surprise.”

Well, that did not make any sense at all, so maybe if we just waited patiently, it all would eventually.

He looked me over. “Mrs Collins. You are looking well. I understand you have been very ill, and I am most grateful for your recovery.”

He actually seemed just a bit touched, and I swayed a little bit on my feet with just one surprise too many for the day. Fitzwilliam either felt concern for me or was looking for a convenient excuse, so he shifted behind me and grabbed my waist lightly with both hands for good measure. I intended to slap those treasonous hands away from my person soon… very soon… in fact almost immediately.

Mr Bingley looked at me in concern and said the oddest thing. “Mrs Collins, normally I would start this phrase with the words ‘I regret to inform you’, but I cannot work up that level of respect for the common forms, since I do not regret it in the least. I will just say it outright. You are now a widow. Mr Collins was in the parsonage, and you will find his bones in the cellar.”

I gasped in surprise, not at the fact that Collins was dead, but that Mr Bingley could be standing here telling me with no more ceremony than he would use to describe a recent horse race. It was just too odd. Too odd by at least double, and I did not precisely feel faint or unsteady or moved by the death we had all been just waiting for.

I did not swoon or gasp or fall over or demonstrate any of the other weaknesses our sex is frequently accused of. I simply did not move or oppose him when Fitzwilliam pulled me back against his chest and wrapped his arms around my waist.

I must admit, since we are sharing confidences, that I did not find it the least bit distressing. He was doing what was right, seeing to my comfort and security, just like he would with any of his sisters. I was certain.

“Mr Bingley, you seem to know a lot about the parsonage. Will we find any other bones in there?”

The man looked… well, odd was the only expression I can come up with, weak as it is. “There is also a man you may remember from Hertfordshire… a Mr Wickham.”

At that point, I was absolutely dead certain I did not regret Fitzwilliam’s forwardness, because I may well have swayed on my feet or even swooned at that news. He simply pulled me closer, and nobody challenged it.

George Wickham… dead! Except for Longbourn, all my problems in the world were floating up to the sky in a haze of parsonage smoke.

It only took a few seconds of selfish reflection before I wondered how Charlotte was taking the news, and I was thoroughly shocked to see her standing with a dazed expression, but straight as an elm tree swaying in the breeze.

Richard looked like he would give his right arm to emulate Fitzwilliam holding me so tightly, but probably judged that grabbing Charlotte at the moment might indeed cost that.

It took a moment for me to see a bit of the old Charlotte peeping out of the cloud she had been carrying all this time, and her face broke into the biggest grin I had ever seen. It was as if the cloud she had been enveloped in had spat a bolt of lightning and disappeared.

Charlotte was free! Come to think of it, I was too!

I burst into a bit of a giggling fit right then, but returned to myself after a few moments of enjoying the sensation.

I thought it unfair that Mr Bingley had all the fun, so thought I might have a bit myself, since I had my own surprises.

“Mr Bingley, I have two matters I would clarify, if you could oblige me.”