“It was all your fault.”
John folded his arms across his chest. “Oh, certainly. It always is.”
“Exactly one year ago tonight, you bundled me into the carriage at Randalls—with Mr. Elton—because of the snow. It was stupidly done, John.”
“What can be the objection? You arrived home safely enough.”
“Mr. Elton and I were alone in the carriage. And he proposed.”
“Elton did?” John gave a shout of laughter.
“It was dreadful. The worst experience of my life.”
“Did he try to kiss you?”
George began to chuckle; he could not help it. Emma gave his arm a thwack. “He went on and on about his passion for me. I was never more shocked. He was supposed to be in love with poor Harriet.”
She turned on George. “It was no laughing matter! And now, Isabella has done the same thing. My father and Mrs. Bennet are alone in the carriage.”
“What harm can come?” said George. “There is no danger from the cold, you know. They, er, have sheepskin.”
“How can you make jokes at a time like this? He’ll propose, that’s what.”
“And he’ll probably kiss her, too,” added John. “Naturally, she’ll feel obliged to say yes.”
“Not unless she wishes to,” said George. “Er, did Elton kiss you?”
“Oh!” Emma fairly stamped her foot. “He did not! It was a miracle that I did not strike him! For if ever there was an odious, ill-timed proposal—!”
Darcy spoke up. “I believe that honor belongs to me. My first proposal, made when Elizabeth was ill with a headache, was roundly refused—and deservedly so.”
“Mrs. Bennet certainly does not have the headache,” scoffed Emma. “She has been smiling and laughing, as if she hadn’t a care in the world.”
“Well now, here is another black mark to add to my account. The Christmas punch has been hard at work.”
Emma rounded on him. “What did you do to the punch, John?”
“I amended it a little. And the egg-nog, too.”
“John!”
He spread his hands. “A little extra rum never hurt anyone.”
“You and your wretched schemes!”
“Come now, Mrs. Knightley,” said George mildly. “It is high time for the dancing to resume. What say you to taking a celebratory turn together? For unless I miss my guess, you shall shortly become the acting mistress of Donwell in more than name only.”
He saw Emma take in his meaning. “Why, yes,” she said slowly. “Yes, I suppose I shall.”
Her lips curved into a smile, and the shine returned to her eyes. “Very well, Mr. Knightley, I accept. Provided that you have not imbibed multiple servings of John’s horrid punch.”
“Fortunately, I have been too occupied to do so.” Smiling, he bowed over his wife’s hand and led her into the set.
George Knightley and his wife had arranged to stay the night at Donwell Abbey, which was just as well. It was very late when Darcy and his family returned. The Highbury mansion was quiet. News of an engagement would have to wait until the following morning.
Even then, it was evident that something had transpired during the fateful drive through the snow, for Mr. Woodhouse and Mrs. Bennet smiled and laughed more than ever. There would be a bountiful Christmas dinner that afternoon, but not a hint was dropped about anything more.
For a woman of Mrs. Bennet’s temperament, Darcy thought such restraint was rather remarkable.
After everyone was seated at the table and the Christmas blessing said, Mr. Woodhouse rose to his feet. Mrs. Bennet, seated at his right hand, smiled up at him.
“This shall come as a surprise to you, my beloved family and friends,” he said in his formal way. “In keeping with the festive nature of the Christmas season, I have made bold to ask for Mrs. Bennet’s hand in marriage. To my delight, she has agreed to become my wife.”
He looked so pleased and in such good health that even Miss Bates made no objection.
“Hear, hear,” said George Knightley, and he lifted his glass.
Mr. Woodhouse coughed gently. “I suppose, given the celebratory nature of the occasion, that a small glass of wine is in order.”
“I’ll say,” cried John. “What better than to toast to your health? But not,” he added, “if we must douse the wine in a tumbler of water.”
Toasts were made and the dinner service began. It was a fine Christmas meal with all the trimmings: beef and plum pudding, mince pies and a big bowl of wassail. Could there be a better complement to such happy news?
All that remained was to work out the practicalities, and these occupied most of the evening.
“An announcement in the London papers is fairly useless,” remarked John, “although it should be done. I expect everyone in Highbury will get word of it before sunrise tomorrow.”
“Of course Mrs. Bennet must stay on,” said Mr. Woodhouse.
“Not here, Papa,” said Emma. “It would not be proper.”
Mr. Woodhouse blinked. “Well then, until we are able to be married, Mrs. Bennet and her daughter must live at Donwell.”
“Without a hostess?” said Isabella. “Only think how dreary that will be.”
“Not at all, my dear. You and the children may certainly remain. It will be no trouble.”
“While John returns alone to London? I’d rather not.”
“I regret to be disobliging,” Darcy put in, “but Mrs. Darcy and I must journey to Derbyshire as planned.”
“Of course you must,” said George. “We are well able to work out a solution. I take it you will be married by license, Mr. Woodhouse?”
“As weather allows, yes. It has been remarkably pleasant for this time of year.”
“In spite of the blessed snowfall of last night,” muttered John.
“I suppose,” said Mrs. Bennet, “that Mary and I can hire rooms in the village. Kitty can remain with the Bingleys for a time.”
“That will never do.” Mr. Woodhouse looked down the long table to his daughter. “Isabella insists that the air of Berkshire Square is better than what one normally encounters in London. Perhaps the solution lies there.”
“It is about time you gave Berkshire Square its due,” grumbled John.
“Furthermore," said Mr. Woodhouse, “I expect Isabella will like having help with the children.”
John spoke again. “We already employ three nurserymaids.”
“And dear Janie, no doubt you should enjoy shopping for bridal clothes.”
“In London, do you mean?” said she. “I most certainly shall. How like you to be so thoughtful!”
“Then it is settled. Until we are able to exchange our vows, Mrs. Bennet and Mary shall live in London with the John Knightleys.”
“Hang it all,” cried John. “Live where? With us? Why us?”
“My dear brother,” said George, “since this undertaking was your idea, it is entirely fitting that you have a hand in its conclusion. I can think of no better place for Mrs. Bennet to reside than in Berkshire Square.”
“Good gad. Who knows how long that shall be?”
“Less weeks than you deserve,” said Emma tartly.
“Weeks!”
“Let us therefore pray earnestly for a mild winter,” said George. “Or, barring that, for an early spring thaw.”
“May heaven help us all,” muttered John.
Darcy could not hold back a smile. What an opportune ending to a difficult dilemma! Mrs. Bennet and Mr. Woodhouse could not be more delighted.
The same could not be said for poor John Knightley. Until the marriage took place, he would be feeling rather put out.
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