Page 47 of The Scarred Duchess
Lambrook held out his hand. Bennet grasped it and squeezed. Hard. “What are you not telling me?” he asked.
Lambrook squeezed his hand back. “The letters patent for the Somerset and Lambrook lines are conditionally paired.”
Bennet released his hand and looked out the window. Clouds had begun to shut out the summer sun yet John and Jane remained illuminated as they toured the near garden oblivious to all. They were a golden couple.
“The demise of your cousin and his heir would cede his patents to you,” Bennet replied.
“As my death and that of my son’s would give Somerset my holdings.”
Jane’s heart fluttered as she walked with John through Longbourn’s garden paths. They had danced three times together at the assembly, and each dance only solidified her feelings for him. As they strolled through the garden, her hand tucked in his arm, Jane could not help but reminisce about their long-standing friendship.
She remembered the first time they had met, when they were both just children. John had settled into Netherfield Park with his mother and father, who was one of her father’s closest friends. Their mothers had immediately taken to each other. From that day on, John and Jane had been in each other’s company regularly. They had spent endless summers riding in the fields and chasing each other through the rows of flowers and trees. As they grew older, their friendship never wavered, but dancing together at the assembly—touching his hand, feeling herself in the warmth of his closeness—had changed the way she saw him. He was more than a friend. Was she to him?
John stopped walking under a sprawling oak tree. The sun had cast an orange glow over the wildflowers. The air was vibrant with the smell of spring. In the faint shadow of the tall oak, he turned to her.
“Jane,” John began, taking both of her hands in his, “I cannot begin to express how much the last fifteen years has meant to me.”
Jane’s heart skipped a beat. She knew John was not one toexpress his emotions easily, and when he did, he hid his nervousness behind enumeration.
“I have long admired your grace, your intelligence, and your unwavering loyalty to those you hold dear,” he continued, his eyes never leaving hers. “I have come to realise that you are not only my dear friend, but also my perfect match,” he said, his voice filled with sincerity. “You are perfection, and I esteem you beyond words.”
Her heart raced. Now that John had spoken of feelings so similar to hers, love felt like the most natural thing in the world.
“I know that I must return to finish my studies, but I cannot bear the thought of being apart from you any longer than that,” he continued, his grip tightening on her hands. “I shall return prior to harvest and remain. With you.”
Her heart swelled. John was the most handsome, honourable man of her acquaintance. She could not imagine spending her life with anyone else.
“Is there a question you would like to ask me?” she whispered.
He stared into her eyes; his lips formed a tender smile. “Miss Jane Lily Bennet, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”
She nodded as she replied, “Yes, Mr John Charles Smyth. I will marry you.”
John tugged her into a light embrace; much as she thought he might kiss her, she knew he was as mindful as she that their families were likely watching through the windows. They separated and resumed walking Longbourn’s paths, her hand wrapped around his arm. She listened to his plans, happy that he spoke as ‘we’ repeatedly.
A fortnight later, two carriages departed Meryton for London. The lead carriage carried Lady Lambrook and Mrs Bennet. Jane, Elizabeth, and Sally, the Bennets’ upstairs maid, rode in the second. Their final destination was Matlock House.
After a week in London shopping for Jane’s bridal trousseau on Bond Street and browsing through fabrics at Mr Gardiner’s business warehouses, the happy but tired party mounted their carriages for their return home. Mrs Bennet directed Elizabeth to ride with Sally as she and Lady Lambrook desired to continue their wedding planning with Jane.
However, after two hours of Sally’s monotonous, off-key humming, Elizabeth had a change of mind; unable to concentrate, she was on the same chapter of her book as when the carriage ride had begun. At the St Albans coaching inn, she pulled Jane aside. “Would you mind if I rode with Mama?”
“Whatever for?”
“I am craving conversation. Sally is no company at all, which will serve you well. You shall do nothing but stare off at the horizon, hopeful your prince will appear.”
“John is not a prince.”
“John, is it now?” Elizabeth giggled.
“He has always been John to me.” She sighed.
“This is what I am referring to.” Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “I hope love does not turn me as dull as you.”
Jane smiled. “We shall see. When it is your turn, I may throw your words back at you.”
Elizabeth hugged her.
“I shall be fine with Sally,” Jane offered.
