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“Well of all the take-ins! Caroline told me that Mr Bennet had died and that Jane is destitute!”

“Sadly, Mr Bennet did pass away, Bingley. The Bennets will have to leave Longbourn because of the entail, but I do not think their prospects are so poor. I have recently had the honour of making Miss Elizabeth Bennet my wife.”

It was just as well that Darcy was unable to see Bingley’s face upon his making this pronouncement. His friend’s incredulity might have irked him.

“Well!” said Bingley after a pause. “You could knock me down with a feather! I do hope Mrs Bennet did not impose on your good nature, Darcy!”

“Not at all, Bingley. I realised once I recovered in Vienna that I would very much like being married to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. You remember how taken I was with her at the Netherfield ball? I am afraid Mrs Bennet’s letter had the adverse effect of dissuading me from accompanying you to Longbourn that morning, as I had resolved to do during the night. You know how averse I am to efforts to manipulate me. Fortunately, thanks to Finn and Elizabeth’s uncle from Cheapside, I was able to make her an offer once I had recovered sufficiently. I consider myself very lucky that she was willing to accept me despite my changed circumstances.”

“Heavens! Well congratulations, Darcy! But now I really do feel that I have offended you! I had hoped to stand up with you as your best man!”

“The ceremony was a very quiet one, Bingley, because Elizabeth is still in mourning.”

“Oh! Of course!”

“We have not yet even announced it in the newspapers because Elizabeth did not wish to pre-empt her sister’s marriage today. But we will do so within the next week.”

“Her sister?” repeated Bingley weakly. “Then Miss Jane Bennet is to be married today?”

“No, Bingley, Miss Mary Bennet is marrying a Mr Elliot of Stonebridge in Somerset. Elizabeth and Jane are attending the wedding along with Georgie.”

All of this information proved rather too much for Bingley who felt rather unsteady on his legs, as if someone had pulled a rug from under his boots. After gulping the cool tea in his cup, he set it down with a clatter, dropped heavily into a chair and began to breathe rather raggedly.

“Are you all right?” asked Darcy with concern.

“Yes, I think so,” gasped Bingley.

“Perhaps you should put your head between your knees,” suggested Darcy.

Bingley did not think he was so far gone as to follow this advice, but he did lean forward a bit until he had recovered his breath.

During this interlude, Darcy had drawn his new pocket watch from his waistcoat—a present from Elizabeth—and reflexively flipped open its hinged cover to rest his fingers lightly on the exposed hands before shutting it again and threading it slowly between his fingers. Finally, upon hearing Bingley’s ragged breathing calm, Darcy slipped it back into his pocket.

“I thought you had given up your pretensions to Jane Bennet’s affections, Bingley,” Darcy said quietly.

“Well, Darcy. I must admit she is one of the most beautiful and pleasant girls I have ever met, but Caroline was less than enthusiastic about the match. Do you not see this changes everything? Caroline has often expressed the wish that we could be brothers, though I do think your sister Georgiana a little young. Now you are married to Jane’s sister, it could be true. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

Darcy could not help but suppress a smile at the warm sentiment conveyed towards himself in this artless speech before the solid values of his upbringing kicked in. “I thank you for the compliment, Bingley. But I do not think that our relationship is a good basis for matrimony. I know that Elizabeth has been quite concerned for her sister who has had to endure the inconstancy of your attention. Elizabeth is trying to help Jane consider another very well-to-do suitor who hopes to engage her affection.”

“What?” seethed Bingley. “Who is he? Name the dog!”

“His name is immaterial, Bingley. If you wish to marry Jane Bennet, I do not think she would be ill-disposed towards you, but I ask you to be firm in your decisions and come to the point quickly.”

“Of course, Darcy. My affections for Miss Bennet have never wavered! But it is difficult to fly in the face of one’s family’s expectations!”

“I understand, Bingley,” said Darcy. “But I have one favour to ask of you.”

“Anything, Darcy,” averred Bingley.

“If we are to be related by matrimony, I must make one thing clear—I will not brook any meddling in my personal affairs. Someone recently tried to disrupt my marriage to Elizabeth, and I believe that person to be your sister Caroline.”

Before Bingley could instinctively protest his sister’s innocence, Darcy popped open a secret drawer in his desk, withdrew a letter and extended it towards Bingley with his long fingers.

Bingley took the proffered missive and opened it.

When his friend had not made a sound after a period of time sufficient to read the letter several times over, Darcy prompted Bingley: “I am not mistaken? That is your sister’s handwriting?”

“Well, it certainly resembles it, Darcy, although I think her g’s slope a little more forward.”