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“David,” she said, trying the sound of his name.

Instantly, a smile spread across his face. He crossed to her, nearly shutting the door behind her, and took her hands in his. “Mary,” he repeated, “I am not a man of great speeches. If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.”

“You do not need to make speeches, sir,” she answered. “You only need ask me a question.”

“Then I shall do so.” He searched her face, his grip on her hands tightening ever so slightly. “Mary, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

She met his gaze, her own steady and clear. “I will,” she replied. “I will be honoured to be your wife, David.”

A long breath escaped him, and he released one of her hands so that he might lift the other to his lips, his eyes focused on hers. The quiet reverence of the gesture robbed Mary of all composure.

“You are trembling,” Mr. Lucas said, his voice low. “I hope it is not out of fear.”

“No, I have no fear of you,” she answered. “I should not have accepted your offer if I had. You will think me silly, but I confess the suddenness of it all has quite overcome me.”

“That is not silly,” he said, leading her to a chair and sitting in the one opposite, without ever letting go of her hand. They sat silently, his thumb tracing up and down her knuckles. Mary could not look away from the sight of his hand holding hers, so wholly unaccustomed was she to the sensation.

“I have never known you to be silent for so long, Mary,” said Mr. Lucas at last, a smile returning to his face. “Unless, of course, you are reading.”

Mary leaned back, the tension slowly leaving her shoulders as she looked at him, this man that she had promised herself to. “I am savouring this, David, for the moment we open that door, this calm shall disappear. My mother shall be beside herself to have a daughter betrothed, Mr. Collins will give his sermons, and the rest of the house will want to wish us joy.”

“Only for a few weeks, Mary,” David said, bringing her hand to his lips once more. “Then we may sequester ourselves away together and not think of the world.”

He stopped, his eyes drifting downward as he realised that he ought not to continue in that line of thought. Mary’s mind followed a similar path, and she felt a blush rise to her cheeks. The thought, however, was not at all unpleasant. She did not pull away. Instead, she moved closer to him.

David was surprised by her boldness. He studied her expression, her eager, happy countenance showed no reluctance. He knew he ought to act the gentleman and resist, but found he could not. He closed the distance between them, his lips meeting hers in a gentle kiss. Instead of pulling away as she ought to, Mary leaned into the kiss, every one of her senses becoming intensely alive. When at last he drew back, his expression was one of such adoration that Mary was quite certain she had acted rightly, no matter what the books on manners might say.

Chapter 16

There was, as Mary had predicted, but a few minutes before the newly betrothed couple was recalled to the business of the morning. They had managed to exchange but three more sentences before a footman waited on them with a message from Mr. Bennet: he awaited their presence in the breakfast parlour. David offered his arm to his betrothed, and they made their way thither, wishing they might have had a few more moments of solitude.

Elizabeth was the first to look up when they entered the breakfast parlour, and, seeing Mary looking luminous, she sprang to her feet and embraced her sister. “Mary, you must tell us all!” she exclaimed with great animation.

This drew the attention of Jane and Kitty. Jane, upon observing Mary’s joyful countenance and the way Mr. Lucas beamed with pride, rose also and congratulated her sister with shining eyes, being as gratified as Mary herself, though in a quieter way. Even Kitty, though not possessed with such quickness of observation as her sisters, soon understood the scene before her and was caught in the joy of the moment. David, who might have been embarrassed by such an unrestrained display in any other company, accepted the congratulations and welcomes with all good humour. Mary was unused to receiving such unqualified, unalloyed delight from her sisters, and was overwhelmed by it, yet she submitted to their embraces.

“Indeed,” said Mr. Bennet, fatigued with the raptures of his daughters. “Mr. Lucas’s call this morning was for a singular purpose: he wished to solicit my interest to propose marriage to Mary. I do not like to give any of my daughters away, but since he is established only a mile away, I thought his suit acceptable enough.”

Mrs. Ellington, meanwhile, rose with quiet purpose toward the bellpull, ordering the footman who appeared to send for Mrs. Bennet. Kitty and Jane having moved aside, she turned back towards the room to offer her congratulations to the newly betrothed couple, but was instead met with an irate Mr. Collins. He was astonished and confused, his pompous air replaced by indignant contempt, as he attempted to comprehend the scene. “This—this is an impossibility,” he finally was able to get out. He then turned his angry gaze on Mrs. Ellington. “I was given to believe—nay, I was told—that I ought to direct my attention to Miss Mary Bennet, that my suit would be very welcome.”

“You were told no such thing, sir,” Mrs. Ellington replied, for she was at a loss to comprehend the source of such a strange impression.

“Do you, Madam, not recall the conversation we had on the very first morning of my residence at Longbourn? You directed that I ought not to focus my attention on Cousin Elizabeth, for a wife of more modesty and economy would better suit as the wife of a clergyman.”

“I am persuaded that those particular words did not pass my lips; however, I must candidly admit to having discouraged your attentions toward my cousin Elizabeth, for I did then, as I do now, hold that she is not well-suited to being the wife of a clergyman.”

“And thereafter,” Mr. Collins persisted, his voice rising in animation and volume, “you mentioned that Miss Mary would be a much better candidate, for she is often doing fine works with the Lucases. Little was I to know that she was, all the while, being distinguished by one within that very house! I have been misled, Madam. I came to Longbourn with the express intention of selecting one of the daughters of this house to be an amiable companion, as it is my duty to set an example of matrimony in my parish.” He paused, his chest rising and falling rapidly from the intensity of his anger. “What am I to do, if the sole object of my attentions has been so thoroughly removed from my reach? How am I to accomplish my task?”

Mr. Bennet stepped forward, unwilling to allow Mr. Collins to continue on in such a manner. “Mr. Collins!” he said with serious gravity. “You will not speak to your elder in such an ungracious manner! She is a guest in my home to whom I owe every hospitality, and I cannot allow such impropriety of conduct to continue.”

Mr. Collins, checked in his vehemence by the weight of this reproof, stood for a moment quite dumbstruck.

“I regret if any remark of mine has led you into such error,” said Mrs. Ellington with civil self-command, “I meant, sir, to direct you towards Miss Lucas, a fine lady of sound judgement who I believed would welcome your suit.”

“Miss Lucas?” said Mr. Lucas, surprised. “This man has shown he has a most uncertain temper. I shall not allow him even to solicit her hand for a dance.”

Mr. Collins glared at Mr. Lucas, the one gentleman who had now ruined any chance that he might have had to return to Hunsford betrothed. He was uncertain whether he ought to take fresh umbrage at his remark, or to retreat and nurse his injured pride.

At that moment, the sound of quick footsteps filled the silence, as Mrs. Bennet hurried into the room. She stopped short, taking in the scene before her, uncomprehending of what could be taking place.