Cheekily, she smiles and says, “No.”

No? No, what? God’s teeth, woman! Noticing Elizabeth’s arched eyebrow, I remember to unfurl my knitted brow. “Miss Bennet, is that ‘no’ as in ‘no, your feelings are not still what they were last April’ or ‘no’ as in ‘no, a thousand times no and, once and for all, be silent on this subject forever’?”

She looks away and says, “I apologize, sir, for being ungenerous. I must learn not to trifle with you.”

Minx! I begin to apprehend and appreciate her mother’s nerves. Never would I harm one hair on Elizabeth’s head, but I just may have to start pulling out that on my own if she continues to run on in this manner. Since I have more hair than wit, I can spare a few strands.

In danger of losing not only hair but my mind, I use the scant intelligence remaining before it abandons me. A glimmer of hope begins to shine within as I rationalize what she has just said. If Elizabeth must learn not to trifle with me, does that not imply we have some sort of future? I am all awkwardness and anxiety as I breathlessly wait for her to finish trifling with me.

Rather diffidently she says, “My sentiments have undergone so material a change, since the period to which you allude, as to make me receive with gratitude and pleasure your present assurances.”

Momentarily stunned, I am unable to think, speak, or feel properly. Then the profound delight which her reply has produced is such as I have truly never felt before. My heart swells. I am euphoric … and somewhat embarrassed to find unmanly tears welling in my eyes. I am also tongue-tied and hamstrung, wishing to express myself on the occasion as sensibly and as warmly as a man violently in love can be supposed to do in a room teaming with the lady’s family, friends, and neighbours.