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“Bye, Mary!” the two younger Bennets yelled in chorus before the sash flew down again with a thump and a rattle, failing to contain a giggle that escaped through the gap.

Tight-lipped, Lizzy exchanged a glance with Jane who sighed.

“Gee-up!” yelled the lead postboy at a signal from Mr Gardiner.

As the carriage drew away, Mr Gardiner smiled at Lizzy and Jane before offering his wife his elbow to make his way back inside. Still standing in the driveway, Mrs Bennet sniffed and waved her handkerchief as her first daughter to be married disappeared out the gates.

“There, there! Mrs Bennet,” said Mr Goulding of Haye Park as he stepped down from the portico where he had been lingering. “You must not stay out in the cold! Come back into the warmth. There is still plenty of food. Charlotte and my daughter have undertaken to play the piano so the young people might dance.”

“You are too kind, Mr Goulding. Thank you for coming so far to send my sweet Mary off into the world!”

“Nonsense!” said the reclusive Mr Goulding, who had ventured the enormous distance of ten miles from his estate. “I would not have missed it for the world and am only glad you chose to lighten your mourning in view of your daughter’s circumstances. Mr Bennet’s passing was a shock to us all. Entails are such a sad business! The wedding invitation was very welcome. I sympathise very much. I, too, am about to lose a daughter to marriage. My son has been pestering me for weeks about when it would be appropriate for him to pay a visit.”

A light kindled in Mrs Bennet’s eyes, “Oh?” she replied with a nascent smile as she took Squire Goulding’s proffered arm.

The son in question was the heir to Haye Park, Mr William ‘Spider Shanks’ Goulding, who was now intent on dancing with Miss Lydia if she would have him, or Miss Kitty if she would not. Both were charmingly arrayed in lilac gowns. Neither of these ladies could be enthused about an uncomely squire’s son when there were several handsome, red-coated officers in the room. Both still pined for Lieutenant Wickham who had left the militia suddenly several weeks ago without so much as a goodbye.

Lizzy and Jane spent the rest of the wedding breakfast barely keeping Lydia and Kitty in order. A word was whispered in Charlotte’s ear: jigs were replaced with quadrilles, and the youngest Bennets’ glasses of champagne were surreptitiously sipped by their elder sisters to be topped up with water.

Young Mr Goulding was gratified to have his dance with both sisters, though he could not be happy with the attention that Lydia and Kitty bestowed upon the officers. Fortunately, the militia were required back in Meryton in the early afternoon for their duties. After the last of the soldiers had swept back their roquelaures and bowed grandly, the other families began to trickle out. But the Gouldings and Lucases lingered on for another hour after the other guests had departed. As he stepped into his carriage, Mr Goulding promised to visit with his children next Wednesday, to help the remaining Bennets ‘bear up’.

Bereft of the last of her guests, Mrs Bennet promptly collapsed onto the sofa for an afternoon nap. Most everyone else thought this was a very good idea and nipped off to their own rooms, except Kitty and Lydia, of course, who bounded out to work off some excess energy on the garden swing. The Hills and Sarah, who realised it simply would not do to be scampering around chinking china together while the mistress was trying to sleep, tiptoed off for a reviving nap also.

The remains of the feast were cleverly re-dressed for dinner by Hill; the board presided over by the new squire. Before sitting down, Mr Collins launched into a speech on the glorious ‘new era’ that Longbourn was entering into, almost causing Lizzy to stage a guerrilla attack in Latin for her uncle’s amusement. But Jane saw the words forming on her sister’s lips and gave her a swift kick under the table. Charlotte, who had been invited to dinner to sit at her betrothed’s right hand, hung her head in shame at Mr Collins’ ungracious behaviour. Mr Gardiner swiftly lifted his glass to toast ‘Longbourn’ and the awkward moment passed. A more pleasant discussion of the wedding was started by Mrs Gardiner, giving the diners more than ample material to occupy them throughout the meal.

When the ladies withdrew, Mrs Bennet was finally able to start on her favourite topic—the future prospects of her unmarried daughters.

“Well, Lizzy and Jane, you are making friends in London?” she essayed, looking at Georgiana and hoping more details of her provenance would now emerge. “Have you attended any balls?”

“Only those I was obliged to attend with Cherise, Mama,” replied Jane. “It would not have been appropriate to have attended anything else.

“Come now, Jane,” declared Mrs Bennet. “I am sure if your father was here, he would encourage you to look forward to the future. We do not have the luxury to be so nice as to extend our mourning indefinitely.”

“We accompanied Georgiana to the opera the other night, Mama,” said Lizzy, intervening before Jane could protest. “I expect we will attend a few more sedate evening functions when we return to London.”

“Excellent!” cried Mrs Bennet. “And did you notice young Mr Goulding, Lizzy? He paid you very pretty attention, Lydia, and you too, Kitty. I think he is having trouble choosing between you! Haye Park is a very fine estate!”

“Good Lord! Not Spider Shanks!” said Lydia, aghast. “He has a receding chin and is already bald on top! I only danced with him because I could not politely decline!”

This attitude could not please Mrs Bennet. When Kitty added her opinion that she would not look twice at Mr Goulding, their mother promptly read the riot act to her younger daughters. There had been plenty of handsome officers in her day too. She cried for two days together when Colonel Miller’s regiment went away! But she had been sensible and taken Mr Bennet’s offer, because she knew what side her bread was buttered on! And so should they too!

Trying to pour oil on the waters, Mrs Gardiner asked her sister-in-law if she had considered taking up Mr Elliot’s offer to join him and Mary at their new estate, or whether she planned to move in with her sister Philips in Meryton once she departed Longbourn? With many sighs, Mrs Bennet said she could not decide. She did not think of herself! The fates of her two youngest daughters were paramount! No doubt the estate in Somerset had many attractions—Mr Elliot had put the entire west wing at their disposal—but it was a terrible thing to leave one’s friends!

Lydia then exclaimed that she had no intention of leaving the company of the militia for a dull estate in Somerset where no doubt Mary and Mr Elliot would read them sermons after dinner. All of Mrs Gardiner’s efforts to keep peace were laid to waste.

When the gentlemen joined them in the drawing room, Mr Collins immediately started on the topic of rearranging the furniture so that it might more closely resemble a pretty sitting room that Lady Catherine had lately had fitted up for her daughter—Miss de Bourgh was very delicate and suffered from the cold in the large drawing room where Lady Catherine typically like to sit. After enduring this odious topic for two minutes, Mrs Bennet went off, saying she was rather fatigued by the demands of organising the wedding. Certainly, she was tired of Mr Collins. Jane took her mother’s place serving tea, after which they all agreed it had been a big day and retired early to their beds.

The new day dawned. After walking over to check Mr Creevey was comfortable in the cottage that had been rented for him—as comfortable as twenty pounds a year would allow a curate to be—Mr Collins prepared to depart for Kent. Upon climbing into his hired tilbury, he adjured Charlotte to make sure the family Mr Morris had found to lease the rectory—a clergyman’s widow and her children—were settled when they arrived. He went off congratulating himself on how he had profited from Lady Catherine’s beneficent advice.

The majority of the Gardiners and Bennets had dutifully gathered outside the portico to farewell the new squire, prompted by Mr Gardiner. They all looked suitably solemn at Mr Collins’ leave-taking until he disappeared through the gates, whereupon Lydia gave a hurrah. This caused Jemmy to burst out giggling—the eldest Gardiner boy had been reprimanded by the clergyman for juggling balls in the hall. Mrs Gardiner was sorry for it on Charlotte’s account. But Miss Lucas looked untroubled and merely suggested they finish their breakfast before the tea got cold.

As the children and the two youngest Bennets had already gobbled their breakfast so they might play outside, they decided to forgo cool overdrawn tea for the swing. The rest of the party returned to the parlour.

“Mama,” said Lizzy as they reseated themselves, taking advantage of the fact that Georgiana and Jane, by mutual agreement, had not yet descended from their toilette. “I have some news for you about Mr Darcy.”

Any news about Mr Darcy, especially coming from Lizzy, must be good news. Mrs Bennet’s eyes immediately flew to her brother. He was smiling.

Now came the awkward bit for Lizzy: “Mr Darcy has asked me to be his wife.”