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“Well!” she announced, as she settled herself in the drawing with the importance of a true romantic heroine, “I am married, and you shall never guess what adventures I have had, though I am sure you have all been simply dying of curiosity, for I know that I should have been!”

Mrs Bennet folded her youngest daughter into another embrace, this one so enthusiastic that it nearly upset the tea tray. “My dearest child! Mrs Wickham! Married before your elder sisters, even!”

“Was it very romantic?” Kitty demanded, eager for all the details. “Did you really go all the way to London with no chaperone? Were you very frightened?”

“Not in the slightest!” Lydia insisted with the sweeping confidence of a girl who lacked the sense to ask if she ought to have been. “My dearest Wickham took excellent care of me, and we had ever so much fun. I shall tell you everything, just let me have a cup of tea first. I’m entirely parched.”

Mr Wickham stood apart from the reunion, as though patiently and indulgently allowing his wife her moment with her mother and sisters. He wore such an expression of practiced, charming modesty that it set Elizabeth’s teeth on edge just to look at him. As though to prove there was no end to his shamelessness, Mr Wickham caught her eye and inclined his head with perfect civility, as though he’d never disappeared into the night with her sixteen-year-old sister and no word to anyone.

“Mrs Bennet.” He stepped forward, turning the full force of his charm on her mother, who beamed under its warmth. “I cannot tell you how happy I am to be received as a proper member of the family.”

“And we are so happy to have you, Mr Wickham — my son-in-law, I ought to say now!” Mrs Bennet was entirely beyond the reach of reason on that particular topic, Elizabeth decided, and was most likely going to remain so.

At that moment, Mr Bennet came into the room. His step and manner were the same as ever, and for a moment, Elizabeth thought that he, too, would pretend that nothing was amiss at all.

Then she saw his face. All at once, Elizabeth understood she had never actually seen her father truly angry before. She had catalogued dozens of his moods, from amused to weary to bored to sardonic, but she had never seen the tight coldness that his features held now.

“Lydia.” His voice was quiet, but the room, which had rung with a cheerful clamour, was still. “I am glad to see you are safe, and I will speak to you regarding your conduct and your marriage tomorrow, when I have found the charity to say it properly. Today, I find I have none to spare.” He turned and focused his gaze on his daughter’s husband. “Mr Wickham. My study, if you please.”

Mrs Bennet made a small noise of distress. “Mr Bennet, whatever do you mean, speaking so crossly on the day the first of our daughters enters our home as a bride and —”

“My study,” Mr Bennet said again. He did not raise his voice at all, which somehow made it more frightening than if he had shouted.

Mr Wickham’s easy smile did not falter, but something moved behind his eyes. He bowed with perfect civility and followed his father-in-law out of the room. Mrs Bennet subsided into a chair, dabbing at her eyes and repeating that she had no idea what could have got into her husband, that never in five-and-twenty years of marriage had she seen him so vexed.

Charlotte and Mr Collins were announced not five minutes later, and where Elizabeth might have waited for a calmer time for such visitors, her mother had them shown in at once. No sooner had Mr Collins entered the room than he made his way straight to Lydia. “Mrs Wickham,” he began, obviously relishing the prospect of being able to deliver an improving lecture to a properly penitent subject. “I feel it incumbent on myself, as a clergyman and a relative, to observe that, though it is proper and fortunate that you have married, and a great relief to all those close to you, the manner of your marriage must still be —”

“Oh, Mr Collins, pray do not be tiresome about it,” Lydia said cheerfully. “There was never anything to worry about at all. My Wickham adores me to distraction, and I him, and I knew it would all come right in the end.”

Mr Collins made a few more valiant attempts, but finally had to concede that he had been robbed of the opportunity to inspire Lydia with the shame she deserved, and retreated to a chair looking faintly betrayed.

It was into this scene — Lydia sharing an anecdote with Kitty and Mrs Bennet, Mary attempting where Mr Collins had failed to draw a moral from all the events, Mr Collins sulking in the chair while Elizabeth, Jane, and Charlotte exchanged meaningful glances — that Mr Bingley was announced, and entered Longbourn with Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam at his side.

Mr Bingley crossed directly to Jane’s side, as though anticipating she’d need some type of moral support. Colonel Fitzwilliam paused in the doorway, surveying all the assembled company with the frank delight of a man who had walked into a very entertaining play midway through the act.

Mr Darcy came in behind him and nudged him forward, then took up a place just inside the door. Elizabeth felt her breath catch in her chest when she saw him, and couldn’t look away. She could read nothing in his expression, but his eyes met hers for a moment, and they were hot with a feeling he would not let his face express, so much so that when she tore her gaze from his, she felt rather warm.

“Mr Bingley! Mr Darcy! And — and this gentleman I do not know,” Mrs Bennet said, her delighted welcome abruptly trailing off into embarrassment.

“Allow me to present my cousin, ma’am,” Mr Darcy said swiftly. “Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, younger son of the Earl of Matlock.”

“A pleasure, sir,” Mrs Bennet answered promptly. “Ah…has your wife travelled with you?”

Elizabeth managed to stop herself from putting her face in her hands at her mother’s idea of subtly inquiring if he was the unmarried younger son of the Earl of Matlock, but only just.

“Regrettably, ma’am, I do not have the happiness of being married,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said smoothly. He stopped in front of Mrs Bennet and bowed elegantly over her hand. “Having arrived last night, we could not wait a moment longer to come pay a call on your charming family.”

“Oh! And how happy I am that you did, for you have picked a fine day to visit,” Mrs Bennet said, beaming. “You find us in the midst of such happiness — my Lydia is home, and married, and quite settled. Mr Wickham is with her — well, right now he is with Mr Bennet in the study… I cannot warrant why he should be so cross, when it has all turned out so well, but I am certain Mr Wickham will explain matters to everybody’s satisfaction, such a charming man that he is!”

“I am sure,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, and Elizabeth heard the slight dryness in his tone and blushed, though she was quite certain that her mother did not hear it. Lydia grinned impudently at Colonel Fitzwilliam, who nodded politely, though with none of his customary warmth.

“I hear as well that you are to have another wedding, though not the one you thought you’d be having,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said then, turning on the full power of his own ample charm and grinning at Jane and Mr Bingley.

“Yes! Such a romance, with Mr Bingley and my Jane! Such a fortunate turn, and I always knew that he fancied her, and Lizzy does not mind, do you, Lizzy?”

“Not in the least, Mama,” Elizabeth said, her cheeks hot with embarrassment. “I am delighted for my sister and for Mr Bingley.”

“I am very glad to hear it,” Mr Darcy said.