Page 82

He complied as well.

She just sniggered like a girl playing a naughty prank. “Proceed at your leisure, Mr Bingley.”

She looked at her intended—for there was not the slightest doubt he was that—and shared a laugh with him.

She told him quietly, “The circle is complete, Fitzwilliam.”

Not a man for a dozen words when no words were required at all, he just kissed her and smiled the same enigmatic smile.

Regards

Charlotte

The sound of Mr Wickham’s name nearly made me howl in despair, until I heard the rest of it, looked at the burning parsonage, and felt light as a feather, ready to float away in the breeze. I could tell Elizabeth was concerned about how I would take the news, but she only needed a glance to know all was well.

With the arrival of Jane and the rest of our assorted sisters, along with Aunt Catherine (I had finally bowed to the inevitable and thought of her with that name), I was back to feeling at my ease.

Yes, I was at my ease, perfectly comfortable, until of course I realised where my hand was. I saw Jane assign Bennet sisters to look out for me with a few glances, and I did not mind. Considering that I did not appear to have complete control over my own hand, it seemed sensible and wise.

Mr Bingley was, of course, staring at Jane like a man dying in the desert staring at a distant river, but I doubt Jane noticed. She was as hard-headed as Lizzy when it came right down to it, but I thought that if this man proved worthier than his previous actions suggested, she might end up in a similar state to Lizzy.

Of course, since I had just witnessed the oddest proposal in history, who knew what might come next?

I was curious about what would happen with Mr Bingley’s story, and equally so about what was wrong with my own hand. Now that I was aware of it, I thought I should just return it to where it properly belonged. Unfortunately, once I removed my hand from the crook of his arm, the rest of my arm turned traitorous, and my legs joined the rebellion. Somehow, a few seconds later, I found I had wrapped my arm even tighter against Richard’s arm and stepped half a pace closer… practically touching.

It was the oddest thing, but it felt like some kind of fog was lifting from my mind for the first time in seemingly forever.

The ever-present fear was gone in a puff of smoke, and in that case, it was literal and not figurative as was usually the style. I was free to actually think for the first time in quite a while.

I had always been a practical woman, uninterested in romance, wanting only a comfortable home. I had found a man that was willing to give me all that and more after knowing me for less than an hour, and being well aware of my shame, and I discarded him without a second thought, just because I was afraid. Now he knew the very worst thing about me, and yet, still he was here attached to my arm.

I wondered how Lizzy had survived her year of fear, and how she finally allowed her heart to be open to another; for make no mistake, she gave it to Fitzwilliam freely and without reservations right in front of my eyes.

Their story might give me a lesson, because I had heard it all, beginning to end… except for the one hidden part that she would share with none other, though I doubted very much that Fitzwilliam did not know it. For them, nothing had ever been easy. Nothing had ever been proper. Nothing had ever been affectionate, or nice, or cordial, or any feeling that could lead to love, except that it had. Fitzwilliam was a good man, who took care of her sisters when he had no reason, but I was convinced she had given her heart to him well before the attack. Nothing else would explain her bizarre behaviour during that very odd week. She was in love, and simply would not admit it to herself.

There was no need to make things overly complicated.

Richard, who had somehow become Richard in the last half hour, noticed the change of my hand, but wisely said nothing. He somewhat unwisely reached over and covered the hand on his arm with his own, but I thought I had given him provocation enough to not be alarmed. In fact, I found it comforting.

My sisters had been telling me relentlessly for months that he was worthy and I should give him a chance, so while all attention was focused on Mr Bingley, I whispered so softly only he could hear, “I am sorry.”

He looked at me carefully. “You have nothing to apologise for. Give me time, and I shall provoke something worthy of an apology for the ages, but to date, nothing you have done merits it.”

Perhaps I spent too much time in Lizzy’s company. “If we argue about this apology for much longer, we will work our way up to needing a real one.”

He just laughed at that, squeezed my hand tighter, and we returned our attention to Mr Bingley, but I found both the laugh and the squeeze… comforting.

Ever the taskmaster, Jane said, “Pray continue, Char… Mr Bingley.”

She looked embarrassed at the slip, but he did not.

He began his story.

“I am here because I brought Wickham to kill you, Darcy.”

We all gasped in surprise., while he realised what he said in something of a panic.

“Not to actually kill you, of course. I had letters I thought were from you, asking me to hunt him out and bring him here at a specific date and time, so I thought I was following instructions. He was deucedly hard to find.”