Christmas at Darcy House

“I shall,” Elizabeth promised with a knowing smile. If only her eyes would sparkle at me like that! Although then it would be impossible not to kiss her. And the curls curving around her neck…

“Shall I also give them your regards?” After a moment Darcy realized Elizabeth addressed him, an impish smile on her face—teasing him once more.

“By all means,” he replied.

The women seated themselves again. Bingley hovered anx

iously near the doorway, and Darcy with him. Now would be the perfect time for the men to take their leave, but Bingley obviously wished to stay and learn more about the happenings in Hertfordshire.

Ordinarily Darcy would have been eager to continue with their plans, but Elizabeth Bennet’s fine eyes drew his gaze like a lodestone. Over the past month he had convinced himself that he had exaggerated her beauty in his memory. That distance and separation would lessen his ardor for the woman. Now he was dismayed to discover he was wrong.

Bingley inquired about a mutual acquaintance. Elizabeth replied, and a conversation was engaged that required the two men to take seats in the drawing room. Miss Bingley made a sour face—she was eager to separate her brother from any of the Bennet family—but Darcy could not have been more pleased.

Elizabeth’s dark curls, her delicate lips, her light and pleasing figure—everything about her was as uniformly charming as always. Not only could Darcy fail to remove his eyes from her person, but he also found himself wishing she would occasionally glance at him instead of Bingley.

Naturally, she is looking at Bingley; they are conversing about events in Hertfordshire, and she would like to secure him for her sister. But this awareness did not help to dispel Darcy’s disquiet over her persistent attentions to his friend.

Evidently Miss Bingley was also discomfited by the conversation, for she inserted herself into it rather abruptly. “How fortunate you are, Miss Bennet, to be in London during Christmastide. It is delightful. December in Hertfordshire, I would imagine, is rather…brown.”

Elizabeth blinked. Between one moment and the next anger glinted in her eyes. Miss Bingley remained oblivious, but Darcy recognized the danger.

“Is that why your party departed from Netherfield so suddenly?” Elizabeth asked in a deceptively innocent tone. “It was excessively brown for your tastes?”

Bingley had already given his sister a quelling glare over her snide tone; now he hastened to respond. “No. Of course not! I-I simply had pressing business back here in town.”

Elizabeth pursed her lips. “I hope it was concluded satisfactorily?”

Bingley relaxed into his chair, believing the disaster averted. “It was.”

Oh no. Bingley cannot see the trap she laid for him. “Then we shall expect the pleasure of your company back at Netherfield soon?” Bingley appeared to choke on his tongue, and his sister’s face turned an unbecoming shade of purple.

She knows. She knows there was something behind our departure beyond the all-purpose excuse of “business.” Darcy should be chagrined that his party had been caught being less than correct. He should be appalled that Elizabeth was drawing attention to it.

Instead, he experienced an obscure sense of pride. In effect, she had forced Bingley to admit they had lied, twisting the knife effortlessly. Even Caroline Bingley could not best Elizabeth at this game.

Out of loyalty to Bingley—not to mention his own sense of self-preservation—Darcy should not have focused so much attention on Elizabeth Bennet. However, his eyes had too long been starved for the sight of her face; it was like drinking water after a long trek in the desert.

Miss Bingley had recovered a modicum of her composure. “You would not have us leave town at Christmastide, would you?”

“I understood most families preferred to be in the country at Christmas,” Elizabeth remarked with wide, seemingly innocent eyes.

Darcy experienced a sudden fit of coughing. Elizabeth was quite correct. London at yuletide was not fashionable, although enough families of the ton remained to create some society. The Bingleys no doubt would have preferred Netherfield, if not for the desire to separate Bingley from Jane Bennet.

“London has its pleasures as well at this time of year,” Miss Bingley said through gritted teeth. “There are…er…mummers, and clowns at the Drury Lane Theatre, and Astley’s Amphitheatre has a special Christmas show.”

Miss Bingley could not possibly intend to partake in any of those entertainments. Such low-brow delights were entirely beneath her notice.

“And we have been invited to any number of balls and dinners and card parties,” she concluded with a sniff to remind Elizabeth Bennet that she had not been invited to such events.

“How lovely,” Elizabeth responded brightly. “No doubt you shall pass a happy Christmastide here. Many consider the company in Hertfordshire to be quite confined and unvarying.”

Oh, that was a shot across Darcy’s bow. Her mother had taken exception when Darcy used that phrase to describe Hertfordshire. Elizabeth shot him a sly look, perhaps daring him to object, but he did not even frown at her. Instead, he was too busy suppressing a grin.

“That is not why—We did not leave because—! I found Netherfield, indeed all of Hertfordshire, quite charming,” Bingley insisted earnestly. “I am eagerly anticipating my return, even if my sisters choose not to accompany me.”

Miss Bingley narrowed her eyes at her brother but did not respond.

“We would be quite happy to see you there!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “Although, of course, we would miss your sisters exceedingly.” Her tone implied the opposite. “But my whole family would be quite pleased, Mr. Bingley.” Was she deliberately leaving Darcy out of this oblique invitation? No. I am being overly sensitive. She is simply making a point to Bingley’s sisters.