Chapter 1

Kissing In The Summer House

One morning, about a week after Bingley's engagement with Jane had been formed, as he and the females of the family were sitting together in the dining room, their attention was suddenly drawn to the window, by the sound of a carriage... as it was certain... that somebody was coming, Bingley instantly prevailed on Miss Bennet to avoid the confinement of such an intrusion, and walk away with him into the shrubbery. (Volume III, Chapter XIV of Pride and Prejudice)

"Jane, care for a walk?" Charles whispered swift in her ear.

"Yes, please." She spoke quickly and quietly in reply – an instant private smile upon her lips.

"What lovely weather for a walk." Mr Bingley pronounced as casually and unnoticed as he could to the back of the women who stood gathered at the window. He took Jane's hand silently, and as silently began to back her and him out of the room.

"No one care to join us?"

His near-whispered question gained no reply – still the women muttered about who might be in the carriage. They were unaffected by his voice – their curiosity was unperturbed by common play conversation.

"No?" He said more to himself than the distracted room. "Then Miss Bennet and I will go and enjoy the sunshine?"

He glanced to the window – it did not look sunny. They were just to the door now, when Mrs Bennet picked up that Mr Bingley had been speaking. Without turning around, she asked loudly:

"What is that you say Mr Bingley? Know you who this is who comes?"

"Umm..."

Mr Bingley did not know what to reply. His plan was that no one would note their absence – this was not part of the plan. Luckily his lovely Jane came to the rescue.

"Mr Bingley says he does not recognise the carriage – "

"Oh, never mind then, Jane dear. Kitty, see if you can get a closer look – "

"Mr Bingley and I are going for a walk in the garden."

"Very nice, Jane dear."

Mrs Bennet waved her hand about, not taking in the words of her eldest daughter.

With that, the pair rushed out the room and, hearing a mumble on the other side of the front door, headed gleefully, with muffled laughter, to the back door.

But when a glad Charles opened the back door for his love, she halted a sudden, as the cool air hit her.

"Charles, my shoes!" She exclaimed, though as quiet as she could.

His eyes shot down. His Jane lifted her petticoat an inch to show her feet neatly coved in white bowed slippers – though charming, in no way suitable footwear for the great outdoors.

"I need my boots."

She went to go back, but then there was a knock heard on the front door and she halted her movements again.

"Ah! Umm..." Panicked Charles.

He looked about quickly. What to do? Then an idea struck him: without a word, he bent, and hooking one arm under her knees and placing one high on her back, swept Jane up into his arms. She let out a delicate squeak in response to this sudden elevation, before wrapping her arms around his neck.

With one large sideways step, Charles got them through the back door just in time – a servant now opening the front door to the mystery visitor. Jane quickly let go of Charles with one hand to reach and pull closed the door behind them. A moment of proof: they worked well as a team.

She swung her arm back up and around Charles' neck dotingly.

At last, their eye lines met again, and with this reunion of attention, they both let out the merry laugher they had barely contained indoors.

"Oh Charles," Said Jane in a perfect contented mixture of laughter and sigh. She gave him a sweet peck on the cheek.

"Mmm," Said Charles dreamily, his eyes closed. "I could get used to that."

Still he held her strongly in his arms. He stood in bliss.

"I'm glad." Jane said sweetly, with a gentle giggle that turned to gentle concern. "But wouldn't you like to put me down? Your arms must be getting tired."

"Nope," Replied Charles. He opened his eyes and looked lovingly into hers. "I'm never letting you go."

This time her rosy lips went not swift to his cheek but were tentative in approach to his own lips. Briefly but beautifully were their lips lightly united. All words vanished from mind and mouth.

"Mmm," He sighed again. Her lips tasted as sweet as summer strawberries.

He savoured her kiss, with eyes again closed, standing stationary with cradled love; then, as if awaking from the loveliest dream, at last flickered open his bright eyes – all the brighter for finding it not a dream. This was better than his dreams.

He smiled to Jane, an impish smile upon a dashing face.

"Where to, my love?" He asked gallantly.

Jane, with unconscious cuteness, lightly bit her bottom lip in thought; before brightness struck her own eyes, and she near sung her reply.

"Perhaps the summer house – we may sit quite dry there." And quite alone, she dared whisper in girlish thought.

"As you wish." Said Charles simply.

So towards the summer house he headed, carrying his Jane reverently within his strong arms.

He remembered the summer house: it was as a small sandstone sanctuary, with walls of whitewashed wooden panels, and curved benches in the same style. Its windows were numerous and its many panes as clear as clean cut crystal. He had dreamt of the secluded summer house.

He would not confess to the slight feeling of weariness that was creeping into his arms, as he strode through the shrubbery. No, his renewed speed was not to sooner put down his love, but to cause her to laugh so lightly at his larking, and distance themselves from the distracted figures they had just glanced entering the wilderness on the far side of the lawn.

They reached the summer house unseen and thankful of fate. For his labours, Jane praised her knight with a kiss, as she alighted from his tired arms.

"Thank you, Charles." Jane said as sweet as honey.

Intoxicated by her kisses, Charles hummed a quiet "Anytime"; then sat himself down next to his love in the closest proximity. Their shared thought: oh to sit like this forever.

"I wonder whom Lizzy walks with in the shrubbery." Spoke Jane.

Hers was a quieter curiosity than her mother's and sisters' had been in the dining room.

"I'm sure she will confide that to you later." Soothed Charles with a growing confidence.

He placed a hand delicately upon hers delicately joint.

"Yes" Jane replied, with a smile to thank her love.

And to thank him more, she began slowly interweaving her fingers with his, leaving tingling trails with her light fingertips.

"How perfectly your hands fit in mine." Sighed Charles, open with his love.

Such thoughts, once contained by Darcy or his sisters, he wished to share with his Jane, to give her cause now never to doubt his love. From this day on, he'd dedicate his life to this cause – to ensure her happiness.

"God is diligent in design." Replied unselfish Jane, moving the praise from herself onto another.

"Then I owe him great thanks." Said Charles.

To which Jane's response was quietly spoken.

"How will you thank him?" She asked.

She lowered her glance to their joint hands.

Charles paused. Was that coyness he just saw momentarily glisten within her innocent eyes?

He lifted a hand to her chin. Her eyes she raised instantly at this intimate contact. Charles found them alight.

"By leading a good life." Charles began. "By loving my neighbour."

Jane smiled bashfully.

He continued.

"Inquire you not which neighbour?" He asked his Jane – his innocent remark barely masking characteristic playfulness.

Sportingly and sweetly, she made the hinted to inquiry.

"Which neighbour will you love?" She asked, with fresh smile threatening to blossom from each corner of her rosebud mouth.

"Which neighbour do I love?" Made Charles playful correction.

"Which neighbour do you love?" Jane echoed accordingly.

Charles could not help his grin now.

"Why she whose feet are not suitably attired for walking –"

Jane's loving laughter rang like silver bells. This brief melody sung, before sobering with his increasingly earnest endearments.

He spoke quite quietly now.

"She whose tiny hands fit so perfectly in mine. Two perfect hands."

He traced his thumb delicately upon her palm.

Jane's eyes, filled with delight, flittered like summer butterflies, following Charles' movements like a flower does the sun.

"Two perfect eyes." He continued, as if never was a more certain fact.

He lifted his other hand back to her face – there to softly stroke the apple of her cheek, to dare trace the curves of her two lips.

"Two perfect lips." He whispered.

If the lovers' proximity was before questioned, let it now be confirmed by knowing that it took barely a blink's duration for Charles' lips to travel now to his love's; that their kiss was long begun before this sentence's end, but yet their kiss hardly begun and as yet without end.