Charles pulled back Jane's chair for her. She smiled quickly to him; then took her seat. He took the seat next to her. It had long been this way, with Mr Bingley sat next to Jane, ever since Mrs Bennet had first invited him to supper a year or so ago. Yet back then they hands did not secretly touch beneath the table as they did now. Ten digits danced all through the soup course. Charles could neither tell you if the soup was white or brown, nor did he notice that he supped soup from a spoon held in his left hand. However, two around that table had far keener eyes; yet neither said a word. Mr Bennet and his favourite daughter settled for a small shared smirk.
Mrs Bennet was in her element: she was exuberant and merry, talking not nervously but out of happiness. Elizabeth was happy too. She did not need roll her eyes once, and could rejoice in the sight before her: her dear sister happy at last.
And Jane was most happy. The silver cross that hung around her neck lay on her heart, and she thanked the Lord silently for everything, but most of all for the darling man whose hand held hers so sure, whose eyes were for her only, all this evening and forevermore. Charles felt her thumb draw one then two slow circles on his palm – as her mind had drifted, so it seemed did their little dance. The circles she swirled were as light as fairy kisses and so Charles was gifted to delightful tingles that travelled from palm to heart.
Regretfully, with all soup supped, our lovers hands must part, for knife and fork require both hands to work. Jane's circles slowed, leading Charles' eyes to her own. Her expression was a sorry one though she smiled. She held his hand strongly a second, then too soon her fingers trailed from his. He smiled back at her with mournful eyes, but he understood. Indeed, he couldn't help admire her: here before him was further demonstration of her unaffected kindness and sense.
"Do tuck in everyone, do tuck in." Mrs Bennet said proudly with a wave of her arm.
The mistress, along with her servants, had outdone herself. With a proposal in the air, she had had some reserves put aside and tonight everything came together. Pyramids of crayfish glistened, along with hare cake in jelly, whilst hot steam rose from collared beef, petit pastries of veal, asparagus and artichoke bottoms, and sweetly stood strawberry soufflés, meringues and many marzipan fruit. It was a wonderfully laid table.
"Now my dear, I do believe this fantastic display is of your doing." Said Mr Bennet, taking a large spoonful of the crayfish jelly. Although he said such to his wife, he wished to see whether Mr Bingley's ears would catch his words. Indeed they did, for with cheer Charles was quick to profusely compliment the work of his hostess. Mr Bennet was pleased and pleased further when Jane seconded her lover's statement. It seemed the pair, though overly enamoured, could still be sensible.
Jane was proud of her Charles for his demonstrated civility to her family, as was her mother.
"Thank you, Mr Bingley, you are too kind. It wasn't much to-do, but I must admit I whispered a word or two to our cook about tonight's meal."
"Well it's marvellous, Mrs Bennet." Said Charles.
Mr Bennet's eyes sparkled, as he then spoke.
"Does that mean, Mr Bingley, we may see you sat at our table again soon?"
Charles smiled to Jane, showing off his own twinkling eyes, before responding to her father.
"I believe you may, Sir. You understand I visit merely for the marvellous suppers and nothing else."
"Nothing else?" Replied Mr Bennet.
"Not that I can think of." Said Mr Bingley.
"Well that is a strange thing," Said Mr Bennet "For I can think of many reasons; in fact one young lady in particular comes to mind."
He raised his eyebrows to his daughters, who giggled at their play, which surely would have soon faded, if Elizabeth had not now wished to join.
"Papa" Said she, with feigned ignorance. "Why which young lady do you mean?"
Mr Bennet was delighted to be able to continue the conversation in his own style.
"Mr dear Elizabeth, I have heard rumour our Mr Bingley is engaged."
"Engaged to whom, Papa?"
"Why cannot you guess? She is a most beautiful young lady; indeed some say she is the most beautiful lady in the neighbourhood." As he spoke, he quickly stole a glance of his eldest daughter and was gladdened to see she blushed and smiled. He continued. "Her hair is like a golden halo and her eyes, they say, are really sapphires. And she is not only beautiful, but kind too, oh yes so very kind, and humble, and sweetly spoken. I do believe Mr Bingley is a very lucky man."
Mr Bingley spoke now, not in play, but in earnest. Looking to his Jane, he corrected Mr Bennet's speech: "I am not a lucky man, Sir; I do believe I am the luckiest of all men." He wished to reach again for his love's nearest hand. And this longing left him with an empty chest. Jane's own chest ached at his words. Now she could not speak of her feelings through touch, she must to brave and speak openly of them with words. Quietly but sure did she profess.
"And I, Sir, am the luckiest of all women."
To such sweetness, Mrs Bennet responded in raptures.
"Oh my loves!" She was heard to exclaim, before the rest of her words were lost behind the frills of her handkerchief, as she sought to blot an escape of tears.
"There there Mrs Bennet" Said her husband from across the table. "You do not want your soufflé to be soggy."
Mrs Bennet snuffles ceased with a short snort of laughter.
"No Mr Bennet, I do not.
Mr Bennet turned to his neighbour. "Mr Bingley, I must recommend the soufflé, they are not soggy in the least."
Mr Bingley laughed.
"I am glad to hear it, Sir."