Page 35 of He Insulted My Entire Family Before Proposing

Yes, he had apologized.

Yes, she had made him do it where people could hear.

"Must you tell that part?" Darcy asked one afternoon, when she repeated it to Jane with perhaps more relish than mercy required.

"Absolutely."

"For how long?"

"Until it becomes instructive folklore."

"I see."

"Do you object?"

He looked across the room, where Mrs. Bennet was informing Jane that Pemberley's chimneys were probably very fine and that Elizabeth had always been fond of chimneys in a secretive sort of way.

"No," he said. "I think I prefer the true version."

Elizabeth followed his gaze and smiled.

The true version was not tidy. It included pride, injury, letters, laughter, sisters, aunts, class, folly, and a proposal so disastrous it deserved preservation for educational purposes. It included a man who had been wrong loudly enough that he had to become right in public. It included a woman who refused to be loved as an exception to her own life.

That was not the sort of romance a person put on a sampler.

It was better.

On the evening before Jane's wedding, Elizabeth found the old list in her desk. She read the first line: Public insult at Meryton.

She did not cross it out.

Instead she turned the page and began a new list.

Repairs:

1. Told Bingley the truth.

2. Apologized to Jane without demanding comfort.

3. Corrected Miss Bingley in public.

4. Corrected the insult to my family in public.

5. Proposed without objections.

6. Remembers that love is not an argument against my family.

She paused, then added:

7. Laughs when deserved.

She looked at the two lists together: offenses on one page, repairs on the next, with a blot between them where the ink had once rebelled against generosity. It was not a love letter. It was more useful, and much less likely to be read aloud by Lydia.

A knock sounded at the door. Jane entered, already glowing with tomorrow's happiness.

"What are you writing?"

"Proofs."