Page 21 of He Insulted My Entire Family Before Proposing

Caroline saw danger. "Misunderstandings?"

Bingley, dear man, looked pained but not evasive. "I misunderstood a great deal last winter."

"Charles -"

"And I allowed others to understand for me."

That was Bingley's public sentence. It was not polished. It did not need to be. Jane heard it. Elizabeth heard it. Darcy looked at his friend with the expression of a man accepting a deserved blow.

Mrs. Bennet, who had followed only half the exchange, chose the happiest half. "Well! I am sure no one can misunderstand Jane long. She is the sweetest girl in the world."

"She is," Bingley said.

Jane's blush could have lit the room.

Caroline withdrew soon after, pleading fatigue. Her farewell to Jane was cool, to Elizabeth cooler, and to Darcy glacial enough to preserve meat.

When she had removed herself to the small sitting room with Mrs. Hurst, everyone seemed to breathe again.

Mr. Bennet closed his book. "I have rarely enjoyed tea more."

"Mr. Bennet," his wife cried, "how can you say so? Poor Miss Bingley looked very unwell."

"Yes. Truth often disagrees with people at first."

Bingley asked Jane to walk in the garden. Mrs. Bennet nearly shouted consent before Jane could answer. Darcy remained in the room with Elizabeth and Mr. Bennet, which was either brave or foolish. The categories, she had found, sometimes overlapped.

Mr. Bennet looked from one to the other. "Mr. Darcy, I believe my wife requires my opinion on poultry."

"Does she?" Elizabeth asked.

"No, but a good marriage thrives on invented obligations." He left with the air of a man placing a lit candle near fireworks and trusting providence.

Elizabeth and Darcy remained near the window, alone but for the open door and the entire moral weight of Longbourn.

"You did not have to do that," she said.

"Yes," he replied. "I did."

"Miss Bingley will not forgive you."

"That is her right."

"She will blame me."

"That is her habit."

Elizabeth smiled despite herself. "You are learning."

"Slowly."

"Painfully, I hope."

"Very."

The answer was so grave that she laughed. Then, because laughter had become dangerous too, she turned toward the window. In the garden Jane walked beside Bingley, her head bent, his whole body inclined toward her as if she were the only direction worth facing.

"If he hurts her again," Elizabeth said quietly, "I shall be unreasonable."