“I must agree, Mr. Bingley,” said Jane. “While it is good to acquiesce to a friend, especially when they are in need, acting against our own judgment for someone else’s sake, I think, would rarely lead to a good end.”

The couple smiled at each other and Mr. Bennet leaned back with a grin. His little Jane was going to be quite all right.

Mrs. Bennet joined them then and invited Mr. Bingley to stay for dinner, to which he gladly agreed, as he would each night for the next several days.

~

Mr. and Mrs. Bennet were happier than they had ever been. Well, perhaps they had been happier in the first blush of love, when she was seventeen and he seven and twenty, but this was different. That had been heady and passionate, full of big dreams and starry eyes. But now, both quite settled in middle age, they knew one another better. And while Mr. Bennet still did not think he had chosen wisely, he was beginning to think he had not chosen badly, either. If he took the trouble to look, he was able to find attributes worthy of affection in his wife. The two were often found taking walks along the shore at sunset, or she would read to him as he rested his eyes in the shade of the back garden. She put flowers in his room and he complimented her regularly, telling her how the sea air was making her complexion positively glow and what a good job she had done in dressing their girls and (almost) maintaining the new budget.

She basked in his praise and thrived on his attention, not wondering about the cause of his change in behavior but only grateful for the result. Such was her nature.

Jane watched her parents with a wary eye. She couldn’t help but feel all of their camaraderie would end soon, and she waited, sadly prepared to comfort her mother when it did. She didn’t mind attending her mother, and she was moderately pleased that others found her presence comforting, but she did have her own pursuits and her mother did have three other daughters at home. Jane simply didn’t understand why she should always be the one to give consolation. Surely it was a skill that would benefit her sisters? Was it not something everyone would have call to do at some point or other? For the first time in her twenty-two years, Jane felt resentment at always being the responsible, comforting one. Sometimes, she thought it might be nice to just be Jane, without having to tend to those around her. The thought was so foreign it left her very unsettled.