~*~

Upon completing his business affairs on Monday morning, and after a light nuncheon, Bingley set out for Netherfield. He arrived shortly before dinnertime and spent a lonely evening walking the echoing halls pondering his course of action.

Bingley awoke very early the next morning. He looked at his watch and calculated how many hours it would be before he could safely call upon the Bennets and then he leaned back against his pillows and sighed. Never before in his life had he been apprehensive about a social visit. It usually all came naturally to him – he was always happy to visit just about anyone and he assumed that each and every one of his hosts were equally happy to entertain him. He had always believed Miss Bennet to be as pleased by his company as he was by hers. He had never felt the almost overwhelming doubt that now engulfed him. Damn Darcy and his suspicious mind! He took a deep breath and reminded himself of Aunt Leverington’s counsel. Trust in your own convictions. Follow your heart. He arose and rang for his valet. A walk before breakfast might help clear his head.

The care that Bingley put into his attire buoyed his courage but it was still with a certain amount of diffidence that he rang the bell at Longbourn. Upon his entering the parlour Mrs. Bennet greeted him as effusively as ever, but it was only Miss Jane Bennet’s reaction to his entrance that mattered. His eyes were upon her and her alone. She had been sitting at a table doing needlework, but was now standing with her sisters and bobbing a little curtsey. Her eyes were downcast, but a soft blush delicately overspread her lovely cheeks. Her lips curved in a tiny smile. Bingley forgot the social niceties he had been about to say. Could any angel have ever looked so beautiful as she? Or so remote?

“Miss B-Bennet,” he stuttered, “y-your servant, as always, er, Miss Elizabeth too and, er, all your sisters. Charmed, in fact . . . delighted to once again, um, er . . .”

Luckily Mrs. Bennet left him no need to attempt any more for he was certain that if he continued to speak he would have made less and less sense. She showered him with remonstrances for leaving them for so long – a week is such a space of time! – and reminded him of his promise to dine with them as soon as he was returned. A promise she hoped he would make good that very day. She manoeuvred him over to a settee and then called for Jane to come and sit beside him.

“You must show Mr Bingley the sampler you are working upon my dear. Oh Mr Bingley! Jane has the lightest touch with a needle – and so quick too! Why, flower gardens grow upon the linen before one’s eyes. None of my girls sew quite as delightfully as Jane.”

Bingley allowed himself a moment to reflect that Darcy had been correct about Mrs Bennet. She was indeed flagrantly throwing her daughter at him. But what of Miss Bennet? Was she merely doing as her mother bid in familial obedience or did she care for him even a little bit as he fervently hoped she did? Once she was beside him, however, such thoughts emptied from his head. All that concerned him was her tempting closeness, the delicate fragrance of rose petals that surrounded her, the satin whiteness of her hands as she held out the square of cloth for him to examine.

“Beautiful,” he said in a voice that sounded in his ears too breathy and light. He was sure that the silken pattern of intertwined blossoms and leaves was just that, but he had barely taken them in. The word was for her, and if he were to judge the conscious expression on her face and the light that danced in her eyes before she cast them down again, she had taken his meaning and had been pleased by it.

Mrs Bennet continued to hover over them both, talking all the while. He scarce heard one word in ten and he was not altogether sure of his responses, except that he seemed to have accepted her oft-repeated invitation to dine. She was now discussing the abilities of her cook and pressing him to tell her his favourite foods. Momentarily distracted from his contemplation of Miss Bennet, he glanced about the room and noticed that Miss Elizabeth was casting her mother looks of consternation. As soon as that lady paused to draw breath, her second daughter interrupted her.

“Do you not think, Mama, that Mr Bingley might like to take a turn upon the lawn? It is such a lovely day and not really cold at all for this time of the season.”

“A walk? In December? I would not have Jane suffer a chill.”

“Oh no indeed, Mama,” cried Jane, blushing. “You will have Mr Bingley thinking that I have a sickly nature.”

“But perhaps,” said Bingley solicitously, “it is too soon after your recent illness.”

“Nonsense!” cried Mrs Bennet, appalled at the idea that he might consider Jane not robust enough for the callings of matrimony. “Jane’s constitution is most sound. The apothecary was telling me just the other day how resilient he has found her to be. ‘My dear Mrs Bennet,’ he said. ‘Your Jane has all the appearance of a delicate nature with her beauty and lightness of figure, and her porcelain complexion, but she is the very embodiment of health. Why – one would never imagine that she had just recovered from so severe an attack of influenza that would have crippled any other young lady caught within its grips for weeks on end. Her stamina is remarkable! I put it down to the fresh air and exercise you always encourage for your girls.’ Which I do, Mr Bingley. You must indeed all go out – but bundle up well! I will not have any one of you getting ill.” This last remark she delivered with some fierceness of tone, and her eyes caught Jane’s meaningfully.

As it happened, only Jane and Elizabeth accompanied Bingley out to the garden. The other three girls made excuses of work to be done, but in truth they preferred to stay by the fire.

“I am afraid we have been very backward in our attentions to you this morning, Mr Bingley,” said Elizabeth with a smile. “I do not believe you have yet been asked how your business in London fared.”

His business in London! Bingley barely remembered why he had gone. Once Darcy had charged him to forget Miss Bennet he had been able to think of little else. “Once I have dispatched with such tedious dealings I prefer to put them firmly out of my mind,” he replied jovially.

“So, you only live for the present and fun and frivolity?” she teased.

“Miss Elizabeth, pray do not expose the shallowness of my character – I am attempting to make a good impression in this community.”

“Lizzy is speaking nonsense,” said Jane. “Anyone who has met you knows that you have deep interests.” Her alabaster cheeks flushed prettily with more than just the cold.

“Then, would you say that I have made a good impression locally?” he asked, grinning impishly.

“I cannot speak for all of our neighbours,” said Jane, forging ahead bravely, “but here at Longbourn you are well respected.”

“Respected?” Bingley glanced at Jane with a look so appealing that she could not help herself.

“Liked,” she amended.

Neither of them noticed that Elizabeth had fallen back and was gazing at a bed of heather with the utmost interest. They walked on in happy silence until Jane bethought herself to ask after his sisters.

“They were well when I left them,” he responded.

“I do hope they will be returning,” said Jane. “Our friendship was only just beginning. I long to know them better. They are both so kind and elegant and accomplished – I quite admire them.”

Bingley was left speechless for a moment. Miss Bennet had such a sweet and loving nature, and yet how had his sisters sought to repay her for such interest and loyalty? By warning him off her! The resentment that these thoughts stirred was soon outweighed by the tender feelings that she evoked in him. She was still looking at him expectantly and he realised that he had not yet responded.

“I do not anticipate them joining me before Christmas – but I do have great hopes of them becoming more closely acquainted with you.” ‘That they could know how sweet and open and honest you truly are,’ he longed to say, but it was early yet. He did not wish to frighten her off. 

The days passed in idyllic splendour. December had never been such a lovely month. The mornings were brisk and cold and touched with frost but the sun shone brightly throughout the day, warming hills and dales, hearts and souls.

Bingley visited Longbourn daily. Sometimes he was the only visitor, but on other occasions they were also joined by some of the officers. On one such occasion Bingley arrived at the drive at the same moment as Wickham and Denny. He reined in his horse and dismounted to join the other gentlemen. They were in the midst of a spirited conversation and at first took no notice of him.

“If the arrogant scoundrel treated you thus you should demand recourse,” cried Denny.

“Of  Darcy? He would laugh in my face. He knows a mere steward’s son such as I could not win in a court of law against the power his affluence brings him, no matter that truth is on my side.”

“But . . . you grew up almost as brothers!”

“Aye, and I’d wager we are brothers, on the other side of the blanket. Old Mr. Darcy hinted as much before he died, God rest his soul, but sadly I have no proof.”

“But to deny you a living willed to you by his father? He must truly hate you.”

“It is nothing more base than jealousy. I was a great favourite of his father.”

“Who could blame the old man? Darcy must have been a disappointment to him – such an unfriendly and taciturn nature he has.”

Wickham suddenly noticed his company and coughed. “He can please where he likes,” he said. “Even the best of men have been deceived by him. I myself once cared a great deal for his good opinion.”

Bingley’s anger had risen throughout the conversation and now his normally affable countenance was marred by a scowl. He grabbed Wickham’s arm. “A moment of your time,” he said harshly, and then he turned to the other man. “You will excuse us I am sure, Captain Denny.”

He pulled Wickham down the lane and then released him. “You must think me a complete fool. Do you imagine you can slander my friend so thoroughly and not be taken to account? This is not the first time I have heard Darcy disparaged since my return from London – now I know who it is that has been spreading the lies.”

“You know nothing of the matter, for you only have his word to go on,” said Wickham. “Could it not be he who has misled you?”

“Darcy has not spoken of you to me at all, except in answer to my questions little more than a fortnight ago. He told me no particulars, only that he has treated you more than fairly and your word is not to be trusted.”

“Of course. It is so much easier to defend unspecified actions. But a man who can deny another what has rightfully been willed to him does not deserve such loyalty. He is very lucky in your friendship.”

“I do not need details – I know the man. Darcy has honour – a trait you apparently lack. He would never lay open his private affairs – the ill he knows of you he has kept to himself when it might have been in his favour to reveal it. You, on the other hand, wait for Darcy to quit the neighbourhood and then not only openly denounce his integrity and character, but make inferences as to your parentage that are preposterous.”

“I have said nothing I would not say to his face,” said Wickham. “What would I stand to gain by spreading lies?”

“That is exactly what I am wondering,” said Bingley, staring at him coldly. “I can only imagine you do it to puff yourself up and that you enjoy commiseration. I understand you are treated well in all the taverns – and that you have many a young lady’s ear. I have seen you ingratiating yourself with the ladies of this house, and I warn you that if you attempt anything with any of them you will have me to deal with.”

Wickham laughed. “Brave words, Bingley, but you are working yourself into a lather over nothing. Your support of your friend is commendable, but this accusation is ludicrous. And what position are you in to champion the Bennets anyway? I am as much their friend as you.”

“I am soon to be much more than a friend,” said Bingley. “And I would prefer it that your visits come to an end. Now.”

“I believe you are in earnest,” said Wickham , taking a step backwards.

“I am.”

“Miss Elizabeth and Miss Lydia were such good sport,” said Wickham with a sigh. “I am loath to give them up – but you are filled with so much righteous indignation that I fear you shall soon plant me a facer and mar my good looks. Please extend my regrets to Denny and any of the Bennets that you should see, and accept my fondest felicitations on your imminent engagement.”

Bingley watched Wickham swagger away as he strove to steady his nerves. He had never before stood up to someone as he had just done, and he had to admit that the experience had been exhilarating. Well there was always a first time for everything and he had a feeling that today was going to be a day filled with firsts. Bingley turned and walked the few short paces to the broad gravel sweep that led to Longbourn’s front entrance. Denny was standing there waiting for him.

“I gave your horse to the groom,” he said. “Where’s Wickham?”

“He had to leave suddenly.”

Denny grinned. He knew who had come out on top in that conversation, and if that were the case, was Wickham really the man to back? He fell into easy conversation with Bingley as they walked up to the door, but lost him completely to Miss Bennet once they entered the salon.

Later in the afternoon, Bingley found himself virtually alone with his lady fair in the dormant rose garden. Elizabeth had wandered off to study a bush and the other sisters were not yet back from Meryton where they had accompanied Captain Denny, ostensibly to go to the lending library. He sat down upon a bench and Jane glanced at him shyly.

“Won’t you join me?” he asked, spreading out his handkerchief on the wood beside him. “This should help protect you from any damp, if that is what concerns you.” He smiled warmly.

“Thank you,” said Jane a little breathlessly. “I am not concerned about anything.”

“I am concerned because your cheeks appear rather flushed.”

“They do?” Jane’s hand leapt to her face. “I am quite well.”

“Then it must be something else that is causing that lovely rosy glow.”

Jane’s eyes darted to his and then to her lap. She nodded.

“Do I dare hope it is the thought of what I am about to say?”

Jane looked up, her lips slightly parted, her blue eyes shining.

Bingley had to restrain the urge to pull her into his arms and smother her with kisses. She had never looked quite so entrancing. “Did I ever tell you that you are more beautiful than any angel in all the heavens?”

“No,” she whispered.

He reached out and took her hand, his eyes never leaving her face. “I am so completely in love with you that I cannot wait any longer. I must know whether you will consent to be my wife.”

“Your wife!” said Jane. “Are you truly asking me to marry you?”

Bingley raised her hand to his lips. “Of course!” he said. “You must know it is what I have wished for since almost the first moment I saw you. Please, don’t leave me in suspense. You hold my heart in your hands.”

“And I have longed for this moment from almost the first instant I saw you,” said Jane. “Yes, yes, I will marry you! I love you so very much.”

“You do?”

“Could you ever have doubted it? You silly, adorable, modest man! You are all that I have ever wished for and more.” She raised his hand and held it to her cheek.

“Oh, can we not get married today?” cried Bingley, overcome with joy.

“I think not,” said Jane laughing. “Unless you have an extra-special licence in your pocket.”

“Alas, I do not. But I promise you we shall be wed before the year is out!”

Jane giggled. “Have you forgotten that it is December?”

“I am ecstatic that it is December! I never go back on my word, sweet Jane. I pledge to you we will face the new year as man and wife. Now I need to see your father.”

“Must you? Already? I was hoping . . .”

Bingley took her shoulders and gazed into her eyes. He leaned his head forward as Jane upraised hers. Their lips touched ever so gently, soft as butterfly wings. “My sweet Jane,” he whispered as he rested his forehead against hers.

“Charles.” The name came out in a shaky little sigh.

“And now I really must go and talk to your father,” Bingley insisted, “before he comes out here and has a talk with me.”

~*~

Kitty shivered and drew the fur collar tighter around her neck.  “Jane, I believe you picked the coldest day of the year on which to marry!”

Jane beamed as she allowed Elizabeth to arrange the ribbands on her bonnet once more.  “Is it cold out?  I had not noticed!”

Lydia giggled.  “Of course, being violently in love does make one warm with passion,” she observed.  “It’s a pity I couldn’t be married before all my sisters. What a good joke that would be!  All of you still old maids, and I would be seated above you at the table.”

“Lydia!” Mary, Jane, and Elizabeth exclaimed in unison. 

Mary reproved, “It is a blessing for us all that Jane married first.  Think of the scandal that would arise should you be married first!  People would speculate upon the cause most harshly.  Think of our reputations!”

“Thankfully, we don’t have to,” murmured Elizabeth.  “It is Jane’s wedding day and she is marrying the man she loves. I knew everything would work out this way, dearest, most beautiful Jane!”  She kissed Jane’s perfectly manicured hand.

“Oh, Lizzie,” Jane sighed with a radiant smile on her face.  “To think of how happy I have made my family!  To think that our union should benefit the four of you so – Oh, how can one bear all the joy?”

Hill appeared at the door of Jane’s chamber.  “Miss Bennet, are you ready?  The carriage is waiting to take everybody to the church.”

Jane sprang up.  “Oh, can you believe it?  This is my last time leaving Longbourn as a single lady!  When I return, I shall be Mrs. Bingley.”

With exuberant exclamations, the Bennet girls gathered up their furs, shawls, and other fineries.

Once settled in the carriage, Kitty turned to Elizabeth.  “Do you think Mr. Bingley’s friends will be there?  I would so much like for the handsome one to attend our wedding breakfast.”

“I do not know," replied Elizabeth succinctly.

“Mr. Darcy will be in attendance at our wedding and the breakfast.” said Jane.

“Just think!” cried Kitty. “To be married before the year is out!”

“I believe that license was the best Christmas surprise Mr. Bingley could have given you,” said Elizabeth, giving Jane an affectionate hug.

They pulled up to the church just then, and all the bridesmaids were handed out. Jane remained in the carriage, and her father came to sit with her.

After kissing his eldest daughter on the cheek, he said, “Jane, I truly believe your marriage will be a success.  I know I have teased you, but . . .” his voice drifted off. “It’s difficult to give one’s daughter away to another man.  However, I like Mr. Bingley.  I believe he will take good care of you.”

“We will take care of each other, Papa,” Jane assured him.

The altar boy came to tell them that the congregation was ready for them to enter the church.

“Well, this is the last time I am able to escort you,” Mr. Bennet told Jane.  “From now on, the privilege will be Mr. Bingley’s.” His eyes misted with tears as he handed her down from the carriage.

“Papa, please don’t distress yourself!  This is a happy occasion!”

He dabbed at his eyes with his handkerchief.  “I know.  Come, my child.”

As the doors opened and Jane appeared in the back of the church, Bingley’s face lit up with love.  “She looks like an angel with the light shining behind her, doesn’t she, Darcy?” he whispered to his best man.

Darcy nodded.  “Yes, quite angelic.  You are a lucky man, Bingley.” Darcy could not ignore the fact that a change had come over his friend since he had stood his ground and followed his convictions to pursue Jane Bennet. He admired the new self reliance that rounded off Bingley’s character so well, and he had to admit, upon studying the bride’s face, that it was very possible that it was Bingley and not himself who had been right all along regarding the young lady’s affections.

The ceremony went quickly, and soon the parson was able to introduce the new Mr. and Mrs. Bingley to the congregation.  Mrs. Bennet couldn’t resist running forward and kissing her eldest daughter and her new son-in-law.

“Come quickly to the house, then!  What a feast Cook has prepared for us!  I ordered salmagundi just as you like it, Mr. Bingley.”

When the party had eaten and drunk their fill, the happy couple was ready to depart for Netherfield and begin their life together.  The wedding guests followed them out, raining good wishes and evergreen branches.

Mr. Bingley picked up a purse of coins he had placed on the seat.  He tossed them by handfuls into the air for the neighbourhood children to catch and gather.

Mr. Bennet smirked at his wife.  “I knew the man was too generous!  Look at him throwing money away.”

Mrs. Bennet laughed.  “Oh my dear, don’t you know he has five THOUSAND a year?  What are a few shillings to him, on this happy occasion!  Oh!  My dear Jane!  What pin money she shall have!”

~*~

On September 23^rd the year following, Jane Bingley woke in the early hours to find herself lying in a pool of water. It wasn’t unexpected, of course. She was quite gravid, and had experienced lower back pain for several days. In her usual manner, she had not said much about it, although her darling Bingley had been most solicitous in his attentions. When even he could not relieve some of her pain, she knew her time was drawing near.

And now it had arrived. She quietly woke her husband, trying not to worry him unnecessarily, but also recognizing the need for them both to retire to dry accommodations.