A/N: Coming close to the end. I have one more chapter after this one, and if you can stand one more surprise, an epilogue. Wade

My wonder with the events of that special afternoon where all the bad things in the world were going up in smoke right in front of my eyes, and all the good things in the world were standing around watching was so complete that I left the world of the rational entirely. In that magical time, the thinker my father had created through deep reading, discussion, and an education that probably rivaled Fitzwilliam's was cast aside. My unbounded faith in my own perspicuity and ability to sketch characters which typically vacillated between conceited arrogance and abject abysmal failure was cast aside. My knowledge, training, skills and intelligence were completely redundant and unnecessary. For around an hour, I was entirely driven by my heart, and my heart wanted Fitzwilliam Darcy more than I had ever wanted anything in my life.

I have no idea whether his almost joking request for all the dances of my life were intended to be an actual proposal, a statement of future intent, the start of a campaign, or something entirely different. I had no idea if he was ready to chain himself to me for the rest of his life; although I at least had enough sense to know that if he was trying to avoid the parson's mousetrap, he was not putting very much effort into it. Back in Hertfordshire I could convince myself he stared at me to find fault, or he asked me to dance for his own amusement. No such illusions were allowed for a man who lifted me from the phaeton by the waist exactly as I would expect him to place a future daughter on her first pony, and a man who did not like me would not have held me against his chest exactly like I would hold that selfsame babe to my breast. No, the day was confusing enough, but I would have had to be very silly to not see that he loved all of the Bennet sisters in general and me in particular.

When he said the first thing that could even vaguely be considered by any stretch of the imagination to be a statement of honorable intentions, I decided that surprise and wonder were not my only emotions, nor even my primary ones. My biggest emotion at that moment was impatience, and I simply staked my territory with the implacability of a lion, and much to my satisfaction, but not to my surprise, my territory was quite happy to be staked.

Sitting on his lap was like coming home after a long journey that involved rain, snow, brigands, pirates, fever, pestilence, mayhem and murder to find your beloved awaiting you by a roaring fire while the wind blew and the rain fell outside your cozy cottage with your children arrayed at his feet listening to a favorite story while their loving father did all the voices perfectly. It was the most intense feeling of comfort I had ever experienced in my life, and I wanted more. I wanted it all. Most importantly, I wanted all of it right now.

Charles' story was nearly my undoing, but the love of my life knew how to give comfort when it was required, and I could feel his tension melt out of him when I offered it in return. We were two pieces of a puzzle that just fit together, but had glue on the edges so once fit together, could never be broken apart again.

I recognized the mischievousness in Aunt's eyes right after his entirely redundant but ever so wonderful proper proposal (as if the two of us ever did anything proper), and just grabbed the lapels of his waistcoat tighter, thinking I hoped I got a better start with the housekeeper at Pemberley than I was likely to get with his valet that evening, and waited for the storm to begin.

Richard gave the second-best proposal in history, and my friend, the ever-practical, ever-sensible, no-nonsense, just-wants-her-own-home Charlotte answered him with a joke… or more likely her back did actually hurt and she just wanted to get it over with. Sometimes even I could not tell with Charlotte. I was ever so slightly concerned until he stood in front of her with a look in his eyes so non-subtle and so obvious it was like the sun breaking through clouds. It was even so obvious that Fitzwilliam and I could have recognized it. I was most gratified when my ever-sensible friend returned the same look of love, which had perhaps just been snuffed and hidden by her fear. Since our little circle seemed to be entirely free of propriety, she followed the usual accepted protocol for a proposal acceptance, by locking her arms around his neck and giving him a KISS TO END ALL KISSES. It was most amusing to see what my kiss must have looked like, and Charles actually started taking a step towards the couple quite gallantly, just in case he swooned. It would not do for a pregnant woman to have to save her intended from falling to the lane.

She said, "My back feels ever so much better now, but I am tired; so Charles, I believe it is your turn."

Fitzwilliam had to laugh at the look on Charles' face. The man who faced down the worst brigands in St. Giles looked decidedly nervous and I thought he might feint himself; which might have damaged his reputation as a ruffian.

He had just seen the two best but probably most unorthodox proposals in history, and felt like he had to say something worthy, but the voice we heard next was surprising.

"Yes"

We all snapped our head around to look at Jane, who was standing there looking like the old serene Jane from the Netherfield ball. We all knew she had acquired a fiery temper, and a commanding tone over the past year, but this was the old sweet tempered Jane… and I was quite certain she would stay that forever; or at least until the next time she was crossed.

Charles was a bit flustered by that, and he said, "Might you be more specific, Miss Bennet."

The ever sweet Jane continued without a pause.

"Yes, if you wish to call on me. Yes if you wish to court me. Yes if you wish to marry me in the parlor at Rosings when the archbishop gets here in…"

And with that pause she looked quite pointedly at Aunt Catherine and waited.

Aunt Catherine did not disappoint.

"Tomorrow morning. He is in love with my cook, Mrs. McCarthy… or in love with her strawberry scones anyway."

We all just laughed at that.

Jane turned back to Charles and said, "… as I was saying, marry me in the parlor at Rosings, Monday morning at ten o'clock, right after Lizzy and Charlotte. Pick your poison Charles, but do not ever call me Miss Bennet again. Henceforth, I am either 'Jane' or 'Mrs. Bingley' to you.

For perhaps the very first time in the recorded history of England, Charles Bingley was entirely bereft of words. He was stunned into silence, completely incapable of making a single utterance, but since his silenced included carrying a wiggling and squirming Jane-soon-to-be-Bingley in his arms towards his carriage that had been quietly brought down the lane, it was probably for the best. How he managed to kiss Jane while carrying her towards the carriage was a source of astonishment to us all; or at least it was until the rest of the lunkheads demonstrated the process on our own journeys in their arms to the Darcy coach.

Both of our men looked at Aunt Catherine to offer gentlemanly assistance, but she simply said, "Do not even think about it", and then stood up and went back to the coach with assistance from Mary and Kitty.

Did I ever tell you Mary and Kitty are my favorite sisters?