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I turned to nod to Anne, who had run up breathlessly, and to Aunt Catherine, who was approaching more slowly, leaning heavily on her walking stick. Her hip was bothering her more than usual. I looked at Kitty and Mary, who rushed over to help. Ordinarily, that would have been the duty of the gentlemen, but I had them all where I wanted them and desired answers more than propriety—and beside that, I was uncertain I could pry any of the men out of their current positions without resorting to my commanding voice.

Mr Bingley was just gathering himself to finally answer my question, after being interrupted by the arrival of Anne and Aunt, but I silenced him for a moment to allow them to catch up with the story. Kitty and Mary assisted Aunt, so they told her and Anne the particulars of what had occurred. Anne gasped in surprise, and Aunt just smiled in satisfaction. I loved her more at that moment than I ever had before.

The fact that Fitzwilliam (our determination to call him ‘Darcy’ did not survive close scrutiny) was standing less than a pace in front of Elizabeth staring at her was lost on nobody, and I judged that if Elizabeth was allowed some diversion, it was high time I had some as well.

“Brother.”

Fitzwilliam managed to tear his eyes off Elizabeth to look in my direction.

I asked sweetly, “You do remember our conversation? I told you that you could invite Mr Bingley to ask me to dance. Is this your idea of a dance?”

I admit it probably was not funny to anybody but the two of us and Lizzy, but I had to work with what I had, and I also wanted Charles to know… well… to tell the truth, I had no idea what I wanted him to know, except that in that particular moment, pending further review, I did not dislike him as much as I probably should.

Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth remembered the conversation that first day in the parsonage and they both laughed softly while the rest of the assemblage looked on in confusion.

I wondered what Fitzwilliam would do, but he answered sincerely. “The question seems sensible enough, Jane, but since I did not in fact invite Bingley, it seems the duty falls to me.”

He returned his attention to Elizabeth, or I should say the tiny bit of his attention he had devoted to me.

“Elizabeth, would you do me the honour of accepting a dance?”

Lizzy seemed a bit puzzled but played along.

“Which dance, Fitzwilliam?”

“All of them!”

It may have taken a moment for the true question to percolate through Elizabeth’s mind, but once she was aware of what he was truly asking, she answered just as unconventionally—not that there had ever been anything ordinary about the two of them.

She closed the small gap between them, wrapped her hands around his head, and SHE KISSED HIM. It would have been more subtle if she had thrown him to the ground and tied him up. It was the most proprietary act I had ever seen, and left not the slightest doubt in any of the dozen assorted observers where this was going. My brother, not a man in the least bit intimidated by the impending leg shackles, wrapped his hands around her waist and bid propriety goodbye and good riddance for some time. I suspect that, by the time the two of them were done with that kiss, their entire lives had been negotiated without a single word.

She at long last released his head and, probably to her surprise, found herself standing on top of his boots. She did not seem to mind, so she just wrapped her arms around his waist and put her head on his chest, where we all knew it belonged in the first place.

I thought at first that everything between them was all-or-nothing, but that was not quite right. It was actually all-or-all. There was never any nothing when they were together. It was fire or ice, love or hate, success or failure, and I was entirely satisfied to see which side of the knife blade they had been walking that they fell on.

Aunt Catherine hobbled up not long after, and surprised us all by kissing Elizabeth on the cheek, then reaching up on tiptoes to do the same to Fitzwilliam.

Fitzwilliam’s coachman appeared right behind her. “My lady, your butler was kind enough to have three chairs tossed on top of the coach while you boarded. Would you care to sit?”

It was yet another incongruity, but by that point, none of us were bothered by such things.

“I thank you for your kindness, Mr Mallory. I believe I shall.”

The man held the chair, and she sat down gracefully while two other men brought chairs for Anne and Lizzy. Anne sat gratefully without a second thought, but Elizabeth seemed torn between the chair and the man that was almost certain to go hunting after the archbishop within the hour.

He finally resolved her dilemma by gently disengaging her hands from his waist and pushing her back half a pace. With a terribly wicked smile, he simply scooped her up by her shoulders and knees, and sat down in the chair with her on his lap. We all laughed until we cried at his antics, before finally turning back to Mr Bingley.

He was laughing with us, and I wondered why exactly we were all still standing in the lane watching the parsonage burn, but it just seemed the right thing to do. So long as Aunt, Anne, and Elizabeth were comfortable, the rest of us were well satisfied.

Elizabeth managed to tear her attention away from Fitzwilliam for a moment, and I wondered how long she had been aware she loved him. Her story of the week before the attack in the parsonage could best be explained by her heart knowing it while her head rebelled, but it could just as easily be explained by me being a silly and romantic girl with fanciful notions, and the both of them being confused about anything and everything.

In the end, as long as she was sitting on my brother’s lap, and the two most hated men in the world were being converted to ash as we watched, I was perfectly content with the world in all its particulars.

Elizabeth, always the one for odd requests, asked, “Jane, pray move one yard to your right?”

That was an odd request, but easy enough to accomplish.

“Mr Bingley, would you kindly move one yard to your left and back about half a pace?”