Page 111 of The Widower of Pemberley

Emily giggled. “And Papa,yourcoat is white too. I got the flour on it. That’s so droll.”

“Droll is precisely the word for it,” Darcy agreed.

Elizabeth could not help it; she broke down into laughter at hearing Darcy speak in such a tone.

After a little further negotiation, Emily agreed that she would have a bath, so long as they would not make her bathe again that night, and they went upstairs together, Darcy going to his own room to remove the flour that Emily had wiped all over his clothes and hair. Elizabeth half forgot Jane and Mr. Bingley in the hurry of helping Rose wash Emily’s hair, and then with the pleasant task of brushing it.

More than half an hour had passed when Elizabeth recalled to herself that she really should not leave her sister alone with Mr. Bingley fortoolong, and she left Emily to finish being dressed by Rose and hurried to the drawing room.

Opening the door without properly knocking, she startled Mr. Bingley and Jane, who were seated next to each other on the sofa kissing.

The two jumped apart.

Elizabeth was rather too embarrassed to say anything, but then Mr. Bingley stood and said, “Mrs. Darcy, I must ask you to be the first to congratulate us.”

“Oh, Lizzy! Is it you?” Jane exclaimed, also standing up and hurrying towards her. “I am so happy!”

Elizabeth caught her by the shoulders. “Are you two to marry?” she asked. “I am overjoyed for you both!”

“Yes, and Iwillask you to praise us for being the happiest couple in England.”

Elizabeth laughed. “I can only be confident that the two of you will beamongstthe happiest.” She embraced Jane tightly. “I am so, so, so delighted for you.”

Jane squeezed her back tightly. “I am delighted too.”

“And Mr. Bingley, you must call me Elizabeth or Lizzy. No more of this Mrs. Darcy—you are to be my brother. I always wanted a brother. I imagine you will tease me and pull my hair.”

“At four-and-twenty, I am perhaps a little old for such antics, but I confess to having pulled both Louisa’s and Caroline’s hair rather more frequently than I ought, and to a rather older age than I should.”

Elizabeth giggled. “Well, even if you do not pull my hair, I shall be happy to call you brother.”

Darcy entered too, his hair still damp. He wore a fresh coat that fitted elegantly around him. He stuck out his hand to Bingley, “I see that your application was a success.”

“Yes, but your advice was useless—words are hardly the correct way to begin such a matter. It only became easy when I took Jane’s hand.”

Elizabeth laughed. “And Mr. Darcy had been so sure that the advice he had vouchsafed could not prove harmful.”

Jane also laughed.

And then Bingley said, “And Darcy, I have just thought—we are to be brothers too! I shall begin to tease you as a result, even if you are still so much taller than me.”

Darcy grinned and looked at Elizabeth. “So long as you admit that we are a happier couple than you, you may say anything you wish.”

“No! I shall not,” Bingley said. “I am the happiest man in England—Janey, I really am. And you are happier than Lizzy.”

Before Jane stopped laughing, Emily ran into the room giggling, and seeing them all together she then jumped up and down. “Did Mr. Bingley ask Aunt Jane to marry him?”

“I did,” Bingley said.

“Hurrah! I tossed the flour around to make Papa and Mama Lizzy leave the room!”

“Emily!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “Do not tell them that.”

“Why not?”

Jane was bright red now, while Bingley grinned at Emily and said to her, “Miss Darcy, I am greatly in your debt for your aid in this matter.”

Emily turned to Darcy. “Papa, can I tear another sack of flour apart and toss it everywhere?”