This doesn't really have a point to it. Oh well.

I own nothing related to P&P.

Bonne lecture.

Sharing a bed was not new to Jane. Her sister and herself had shared a bed on several occasions, when confidences were shared long into the night and neither girl wished to wait until morning to continue. Beds were shared also by necessity, for Longbourn grew quite cold in winter, and while Mr Bennet did not deprive his family of fires, the construction of the house was not conducive to efficient circulation of heat.

Yet while the sensation of another person beside her was not new to Jane, the size and shape and sex of the person was terribly novel, and for nearly a month she was always surprised to find, upon waking, a taller, broader figure than her sister's.

In truth, she had been quite astonished by Charles's insistence that they remain in the same room. Her own room was used for dressing and rest during the day; but at night he bade her stay with him, in his room, no matter how often she said that she was prone to restlessness and would likely trouble him if she moved about. Not to mention that she did not look her best in the mornings, and though Jane was not vain, she blushed to think of what he would say of the state of her hair.

"The restlessness ain't troublesome at all, m'love!" he had said cheerfully in response to her protests. "Like to have you with me! And as for what you look like, well—I ain't any better! And it's a lovely way to start m'day, you know, with the sight of you!"

At length she had relented, rather relieved; Netherfield was not much warmer than Longbourn, and winter made the rooms dreadfully chilly. Soon she began to take Charles's presence every cold morning for granted. He was warm and solid and quite cosy, and to wake and feel his arms about her, to be able to simply nestle closer and clutch him tighter, evinced a joy so fierce that, had Lizzy not assured her of feeling the same for Mr Darcy, would have made Jane feel quite improper.

One December morning, however, Mr Bingley was obliged to go to London on business. He was to remain for three days—only three days, said the visiting Miss Bingley rather carelessly—but what a three days those were! Three days of waking up shivering; three days of hugging herself to stay passably warm; three days of secretly wearing Charles's robe, both to keep out the cold and have the impression, albeit faint, that he was with her!

When he returned she, much to Miss Bingley's disgust, kissed him right there in the front hall, even with the housekeeper and a maid present; he had laughingly picked her up and spun her like a little girl before returning the gesture equally firmly, quite ignoring his sister's scandalized exclaim.

That night Jane was once again warm, and she sighed as she curled into her husband's arms, thoroughly grateful for his presence.

Thoroughly grateful, that is, until the blazing heat of summer at Netherfield…

For some reason I picture Mr Bingley as the sort to talk flash (he's a deuced rum 'un, dash it!). And then I recall that Mr Darcy is his friend, and wonder how on earth that ever happened (he's a what, Bingley?).

Also, I have a Cotillion fic now, if anyone is interested!