Bingley leaned over, checking both children’s temperatures. Allen was indeed free of fever, and his breaths seemed to be easy and unlabored. Grace was warm, but the blazing fire that had consumed her for the last day or so had finally receded. Satisfied with the results, Bingley turned his attention towards Jane.
She was quite disheveled, and yet all he could see was her beauty. Her blonde hair was tangled and lank, coming out of a braid that hung down her back. The blue eyes that he loved so much were hidden, sheltered behind pale lids and dark lashes. It was easy to discern how tired she was, even in her sleep. Dark circles were prominent in her pale face. Her pink cupid’s bow lips were turned down in sleep. It was odd watching her frown in her sleep. Jane was always smiling, except apparently when asleep.
Of course, he was aware of how much the smile was a mask that she hid behind, especially when unhappy or worried. She genuinely smiled when she was happy, and she often was happy, but it was only then that her smile traveled from her lips to her eyes. He loved it when her eyes sparkled with joy. He was, however, very fascinated by her down-turned lips, so rarely seen.
He stepped closer to Jane, untangling her hand from Grace’s ever so slowly to avoid waking them both. Once she was free, he carefully scooped her up, carrying her like the precious cargo that she was. He brought her to the next room, where she had not been spending enough time sleeping.
Her not waking told him all he needed to know about how exhausted she was. Only once he had placed her in the bed did he notice Susan was not asleep on the pallet on the floor like he had assumed. She lay there watching him with a wide grin.
Figuring he should say something, he whispered, “She needs her rest, and I do not mind caring for the children.”
Nodding her head, her eyes dancing, Susan said, “She has been working too hard. I will get up and start tea and breakfast once I dress.”
Realizing that he was in the way, he glanced back at Jane briefly before leaving the room so that the maid could dress and begin her day. Walking out into the kitchen, Bingley pulled the door shut behind him. It was easy to see that the fire in the fireplace and stove were both progressing nicely. They had plenty of firewood, as James had come by the day before and chopped a surplus of firewood for their use.
Going out to the little yard, Bingley drew some water. It was a task he had grown accustomed to only in the recent week of struggle. Bringing the water in, he looked around, trying to decide how to best be useful. Only when he could find nothing else to do and Susan had begun bustling about, he went out to retrieve the book he had left in his saddlebag.
Moving into the room where the children slept, Bingley sat down and read. Gulliver’s Travels was a book he had read before, but he found it entertaining and, should the children wake, he figured they might find it entertaining. Though not as widely read as Darcy, he enjoyed passing the time with a good book when the occasion called for it.
Jane woke up all at once and was completely confused. She was certain that she had been with Grace and Allen tending to Grace’s high fever, and yet she was in the little bed, tucked in quite nicely with her shoes removed. Glancing around the room, she found herself alone. Making herself move and get on her feet, Jane shuffled out of the room and into the kitchen, following the smell of cooking.
“Did you sleep well, Miss Bennet?” Susan asked from where she stood stirring the pot on the stove.
“Yes, I think I did, though I am slightly confused. What time is it?” Covering a prodigious yawn, Jane looked out the window.
Holding up a bowl, Susan replied, “Midafternoon. I have a pot of soup on if you are hungry.”
“Yes, thank you. It smells lovely.” Sitting at the table, Jane watched as Susan ladled up some soup. Jane rubbed her eyes, still feeling disoriented. She assumed the children were well. The last she remembered was Grace’s fever finally breaking. As she watched Grace fall into a peaceful slumber, a sense of relief had washed over her. Then she woke up in bed. What exactly had happened? “I do not remember lying down.”
Placing a bowl of soup before her with a spoon, Susan said, “That would be because Mr. Bingley put you to bed, miss.” Susan smiled at Jane as she spoke, though a pink blush appeared on her cheeks. “It was right romantic if I do say so, miss. Not that I would ever say anything about it to anyone.”
Running her hand down her face, Jane wondered if she should be flattered or horribly embarrassed. Possibly both? “He did?” She would not worry about anything to do with a compromise. She had worked closely enough with Susan to know that it was not something she needed to fret over.
Nodding her head, Susan’s blush turned darker. “Yes, miss. He was anxious about you. I believe you have found yourself excellent husband material in that man.”
“You know, you may be right.” Fighting her own blush, Jane took a bite of the rich soup. Chewing slowly, she swallowed before saying, “Are the children sleeping?”
“Maybe, I do not know. The last time I checked, Mr. Bingley was reading to them.”
Choking in surprise, Jane swallowed carefully and regained her composure before she looked up at Susan, her eyes watering. “Reading to them?”
Nodding, Susan grinned. “Oh yes, all of them seemed to be enjoying it, too.”
Jane looked over her shoulder in the direction of the room he and the children were in.
Susan seemed to catch Jane’s thoughts because she laughed and said, “You finish your soup while it is warm, miss. You can go in and see them soon enough.”
Though Jane was sure that the soup was most likely delicious, she did not taste a thing in her rush to eat and go check on Charles and the children. Her mind must still be sleep addled because it had taken a moment for her to process that Susan had said both children were enjoying being read to. Had Grace improved that much?
Rising, Jane took her now empty bowl and placed it in the tub that Susan had been using for dirty dishes and thanked her for the meal. Jane heard Susan chuckle as she left the kitchen and went to check on the children. Yes, she told herself, it was the children she was rushing to see. It wasn’t the man who had been caring for them so that she could sleep. Opening the door, Jane could not stop the pounding in her heart when she saw Charles sitting on the chair beside the bed. He was reading, but when Allen stirred in his sleep, Charles reached out and settled the blanket more firmly around the slight form.
Jane must have made a sound because Charles looked up at her and placed his finger in the book to mark his page. “They are sleeping, but both of them seem to be doing much better.”
They stared at each other for a moment, and the air seemed to hang heavy with anticipation. Jane's eyes locked with Charles's, and in that moment, she saw the depth of his character and recognized what a truly wonderful man he was. He had come to help, spending his time bringing joy to sick orphans. Then too she couldn't forget the way he carried her to bed and lovingly tucked her in when she was too exhausted to do it herself. What was holding her back any longer? Jane's hesitation felt misplaced, as he had more than proven himself.
It seemed, however, that Charles’s mind was on less existential issues because he blurted, “You are so beautiful.”
Startled at his declaration, Jane looked at Charles with wide eyes. She knew she must look a fright. She had not even considered brushing out her hair in days; it was a tangled mess half hanging out of a simple braid. Her clothes were rumpled and wrinkled after being slept in, and Jane was sure she must have dark circles under her eyes. What could he be thinking of? Shaking her head, Jane said, “Beautiful? I know I am a mess. You must be more sleep deprived than I am.”
Shaking his head, Charles said, “Don’t you know by now that when I speak of your beauty, it is not only your appearance that I speak of? It does not matter what you wear or how your hair is arranged; to me, your beauty comes from who you are, the kindness you demonstrate to the world around you. You are to your core, beautiful.” Leaning forward in his chair, Charles gripped her hand. “You could have so easily closed off your heart to the world after the childhood that you experienced, but you did not. You pushed forward, always willing to help others, endeavoring to see to it that others are happy. You are caring for these children as if they were your own, not because you will benefit, but because they will. That is what I consider beautiful.”
Jane could not have been more startled if Charles had declared that he wanted to move to Australia and live with kangaroos. How had she not realized he had felt this way? He had often spoken of her beauty, but when he realized that she was not particularly fond of the word, he had stopped. Had he been speaking of this the whole time? Finding it difficult to master her voice, Jane whispered, “I did not know. I did not understand.”
Charles’s hand went to Jane’s face, tracing a delicate brow with a trembling finger. Then, after sliding down along her cheek, he cupped her face, saying, “I know that you have been bombarded by your beauty for years. You have been pursued by men who use the word as if it were a prize, men who would use your physical beauty as an adornment for themselves. There are those who foolishly only see the surface of your beauty and merely see your superficial smile. Meanwhile, your goodness, your kindness, your true beauty glimmers from your very being, and can be seen by those who choose to see it.”
Blinking back tears, Jane said, “I never thought I would ever see the day when someone beyond my sisters could see through my mask.”
“I know you hide behind a facade to protect yourself, but it is more fragile than you know. I can see the effort you put into wearing it and how it affects you. Do not misunderstand me—your mask is matchless, but your beauty and smiles while lovely do not always represent your genuine feelings.” Leaning down, he laid his forehead against hers, continuing under his breath, “It is the real you I love, not your so-called beauty, not the smile you feel you must show the world.”
"You are an aggravating man for telling me this at such a time." Jane rested her forehead against Charles, breathing in his scent and letting all that he was soak into her heart. Giving a soft laugh, she said, “What am I to do with your love now? When we are both too busy caring for others to rejoice as we would wish?”
Pulling back, Charles looked into her eyes and said, “You can agree to love me as I have long loved you, for nothing less than forever. Agree to marry me as soon as we are free to hear the banns read. Agree to be my wife.”
Throwing her arms around Charles, she nearly forgot herself in her joy, but at the last moment she remembered the sleeping children and nodded her head before whispering, “Yes!”
