Rebellion at Longbourn

Elizabeth swallowed past a lump in her throat. “He has come to see you; I know that much.”

Jane jerked up her head in shock, but before she could respond, they both heard the crunching of boots on the garden’s gravel pathway.

“Perhaps he simply intends to admire the flowers.” Jane hastily lowered her head to her embroidery once more.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “They have flowers at Netherfield, Jane. For that matter, they have flowers in London.”

But her sister refused to look in Mr. Bingley’s direction, so Elizabeth watched his approach intently. “Jane, he is smiling.”

“Perhaps he is pleased to see you.” But Jane did lower her embroidery and lift her head.

“I do not believe he knows I am here. He is watching you.”

At these words, Jane finally turned her head and regarded Mr. Bingley. He had nearly reached the bench, flushed and out of breath but still grinning.

Jane’s somber expression wilted his smile, and his brows drew together. “Tell me I am not too late!” he cried. “Have you accepted this other man?”

Jane did not appear to be capable of speech, so Elizabeth responded, “You are not too late.”

“Thank God!” Mr. Bingley threw himself on the gravel at Jane’s feet, heedless of his fine wool trousers.

“Mr. Bingley!” she exclaimed.

“Miss Bennet.” He took one of her hands in his. “I was a fool to ever leave you. I will be your faithful and devoted servant all the rest of my life if you will consent to be my wife.”

Jane stared at him, utterly speechless, for such a long moment that Elizabeth considered whether her sister was overwrought.

“Please say yes,” he murmured.

“You really want to marry me, Mr. Bingley?” she whispered in a voice so soft it was barely audible.

“Charles,” he corrected.

“Do you want to marry me, Charles?” she asked, a rather dazed expression on her face.

“Yes! A thousand times yes! Leaving you was the greatest mistake of my life. I know that nobody but you will make me happy. Please relieve my anxiety and say you will be mine.”

Tears spilled out of Jane’s eyes at an alarming rate. “I would be honored to be your wife.”

Mr. Bingley pulled his new fiancée into a passionate embrace. Feeling her presence was entirely superfluous, Elizabeth slipped quietly away.

Chapter Nineteen

That evening Mr. Darcy joined the inhabitants of Longbourn for an impromptu celebratory dinner. “Forgetting” yet again that she was no longer mistress of the house, Mrs. Bennet had ordered a fine feast in Mr. Bingley’s honor, but Charlotte had no objection. Mr. Bingley had applied to Collins for permission to marry Jane, and it had been swiftly granted.

Yet as Collins presided over the meal, he seemed uneasy. Elizabeth thought he would be pleased to have one less mouth to feed. Did he care that Jane was not marrying Mr. Shaw? Did he object to Mr. Bingley? Ultimately, Elizabeth shrugged and determined that it did not matter. Collins would be unhappy, and she wished him joy in it.

The rest of the family was quite jovial enough. Kitty led many toasts to the happy couple, and Mrs. Bennet grew a little intoxicated, requiring Hill’s help back to her bedchamber. At the end of the evening, she became quite maudlin, saying, “If I could only see the rest of you girls as well settled, I would be quite pleased!”

As the gentlemen prepared to depart, Kitty arranged with William to meet Georgiana at Netherfield the next day. Standing beside William, Elizabeth noticed Collins?

?s eyes on her more than once. Had he learned something about her activities at Netherfield? Resolutely, she banished it from her thoughts; her cousin was unlikely to speak of it before guests.

Jane and Elizabeth escorted the men outside to bid them farewell. As she retreated from the drawing room, Collins’s eyes followed Elizabeth, compounding her sense of disquiet.

It was a cool spring evening. The light had not completely faded from the sky, and the moon was beginning to rise in the midst of a twilight glow. Jane and her betrothed lingered near the front door, whispering to each other about matters concerning Bingley’s family.

Allowing them some privacy, William and Elizabeth walked down the road several yards and stood under the branches of a weeping willow.