Page 70 of Fortuitous Encounters

Both families grew and did all the usual things, but all their children learned a valuable lesson from their parents. Every Darcy and Bingley for three generations found their spouses at country assemblies, where they arrived early and in disguise. After all, the early bird gets the worm.

Fair Warning

Elizabeth Bennet is NOT surprised by a proposal in Hunsford, because she receives Fair Warning of the impending disaster from an unexpected source, and she shall know how to act.

Stern Content Warning; Contains fluffy fluffericious fluffety fluffiness. If reading this on a mobile device, hold it with both hands lest it fly away. Desktop users should really superglue their monitors to the desk. For laptop users, run down to the store and buy one of those cable locks nobody ever uses.

Now just in case that has you worried, let me tell you what worthy content this story has to expand your mind and build your character: None, Nunca, Nada, Zip

Letters (Elizabeth)

I always believed the best thing to do when you have a headache is engage in an activity so vexing it makes the pain even worse, just so you will be relieved when it finally goes away. At least, that must have been my belief, based on my activities that Thursday afternoon in Hunsford, when I was visiting my friend, Charlotte Collins. She, of course, had been dragged kicking and screaming to tea at Rosings, though perhaps I overstate the case. Tea at Rosings is not the dullest activity in the world—at least if you must attend my cousin’s services—but after Colonel Fitzwilliam’s disclosure of his cousin’s perfidy and interference in my sister’s life, I was disinclined to spend time with either of the pigwidgeons. I naturally decided to improve my disposition by rereading Jane’s letters—apparently because I could not think of anything even more frustrating to occupy my time.

Jane was unlikely to shrivel up and die over Mr Bingley's defection, or his sisters’ nastiness, or his pointedly ignoring her in town; but her letters showed a certain lack of Jane-like spirit that distressed me. Of course, now that I knew more of the story, I was required to decide whether to enlighten her on the particulars or not. I still had a fortnight to think about it, so perhaps rereading her letters would serve some purpose aside from frustrating me—though it was hard to imagine what it might be.

I was quite surprised by the sound of the door-bell. No pounding sounded, so it was not an express rider. It certainly was not anybody from Rosings. Perhaps someone from the village was making a delivery? I was well on my way to ignoring the bell, exactly as I would have done were I at Rosings, when the parlour door opened. Drat! Now I would have to get up.

I managed to rise from the sofa and did not actually fall over on the floor—though it was a close thing, so that was all to my credit—but then Molly made the most peculiar announcement. “Miss de Bourgh, ma’am.”

At that point, I thought I might have been better falling over on the floor. At least then I would not have had to curtsey awkwardly; but alas, it was much too late, so I performed the office as well as I could. Fortunately, her curtsey was no better.

“Miss de Bourgh, welcome. Charlotte and Mr Collins are at Rosings for tea. You find me quite alone.”

I thought about adding a quip about why she was not at Rosings, but I imagined the poor woman realised she was not at home and needed no instruction from the likes of me. Perhaps her pony threw a shoe, or the wheel of her phaeton broke, and she needed me to send a servant for help.

“Miss Bennet, I hope you are feeling better.”

Most peculiar!

“I am feeling much better. Will you not sit down?”

She looked nervous, which I would have found strange, except I could not really think of a time she had not looked nervous, so perhaps my powers of discernment lacked refinement.

She sat in a chair by the parlour table, and I sat opposite. “Shall I ring for tea?”

She seemed puzzled by the question, so I took silence as assent and rang the bell. Once tea had been requested, we entered into awkward and stilted conversation for a few moments until it arrived, then I served and we partook in the usual manner.

After a few more awkward moments, the lady said the strangest thing. “Miss Bennet, pardon me if this seems overly forward or familiar, but I have come here to forewarn you.”

Not forward or familiar, just odd! Very odd!

“Warn me about what? I must say you are either very mysterious or very alarming. I cannot decide which at the moment,” I said in a voice I hoped might alleviate her nervousness.

She seemed mostly stuck at that point, so I leaned into the table and tried to set her at ease. “You may speak with candour, Miss de Bourgh. We are quite alone and I will keep your confidence.” I regretted the promise almost as soon as it left my mouth, but there was nothing to be done about it. “Whatever dire warning you carry is best delivered, is it not? What terrible event is about to befall me?”

She looked truly alarmed, and stuttered, “Not… not… not… no… not… no… not terrible. Not terrible, just… well… oh dear!”

I was becoming a bit agitated, and my headache was back with a vengeance. She seemed alarmed herself, perhaps because she was making such a muddle of the whole business.

At last, she tamped down her anxiety. “I believe my cousin plans to propose to you.”

I blew out the most relieved breath of my life. I had been expecting something terrible, so I thought to set the poor woman’s mind at ease. “Oh! Is that all? Have no fear. I already discussed the matter with your cousin in some detail, and no proposal is forthcoming. We are in complete accord on the subject. You had me worried for a moment, but all is well. You may rest easy.”

She looked perplexed. “You already discussed it with him? How? When?”

“We canvassed the subject this morning when I met him in the park. It came up in relation to… well, to your other cousin… and a friend. Fear not. All is well!”

“He did not propose to you?”