“What a delight,” Fitz said as he greeted the Bennets.
“That it is,” Miss Bennet smiled, her eyes flitting toward Bingley. “How is your sister tonight?”
“She is as she always is,” Bingley answered. “The cold has not been deleterious to any of you I trust. I caught a glimpse of you three enjoying a bit of sisterly competition not long after my sister arrived.”
“What is this?” Fitz hummed, his eyes crinkling as he viewed Miss Mary.
“No harm,” Miss Elizabeth laughed. “Though I fear Jane met with the worst of it, until Mary’s attention wavered of course, then Mary suffered a grievous blow.”
“It was commendable, if not somewhat underhanded,” Miss Mary teased. “My only complaint is how long it took me to get warm… the size of that snowball was impressive to say the least.”
“And it hit its mark too,” Miss Elizabeth added as she pointed at her sister’s face, “straight between the eyes. One must admire Jane’s aim. Mary is usually the victor in snowball fights.”
“And you are the victor in races,” Miss Bennet remarked as she crossed her arms.
“And you have more skill than either of us with the harp, embroidery, running a household, keeping accounts… snowball fights and races are little compared to those,” Miss Elizabeth reminded her. “Though I should like to think we have other skills beyond throwing and running.”
“Indeed we do, though I would consider trading my skills at snowball throwing for hers at accounting; leastwise, it would serve me better in the warmer months. What good is it being champion if there is no snow?”
“True. Now then, Jane, are you prepared to trade skills with our sister?” Miss Elizabeth smirked.
Tapping her chin, Miss Bennet gave show of giving the matter a great deal of thought, until at last she shook her head. “I must decline. As you said yourself, Mary, much of the year the ability to throw snowballs would lay languishing. I shall maintain my skill and you can enjoy yours while the snow remains.”
Chuckling Miss Mary agreed, “If I must.”
“I cannot speak regarding the present, as it has been many years since Fitz and I engaged in battle, however…” Darcy smirked wickedly, “I do recall I always seemed to win. Surprising considering he is now a Colonel, is it not?”
“Twice. Only twice did we ever, and I do recall you and my brother took sides against me both times,” Fitz said, chin lifted in that imposing way he used to intimidate, though his eyes twinkled merrily.
“Hmm,” Darcy hummed, “I suppose, if that is the way you remember it.”
“Oh-ho… those are fighting words if ever I heard them” Fitz teased as he squared his shoulders. “Before this house party is out, you and I do battle.”
“Agreed,” Darcy accepted, hand outstretched to take his cousins, the shake firm and swift as they tried not to laugh.
“And what of you, Mr. Bingley,” Miss Elizabeth smiled. “What sort of skills do you boast in that regard?”
“Boast?” Bingley answered. “A gentleman never boasts. I can only speak to the truth that, in all my years of study, in all of the snow fights I took part in… I lost only once.”
“That is quite a record,” Darcy acknowledged, “If…”
Finishing Darcy’s sentence, Fitz said, “If you took part in more than one snow fight?”
“I will have you know,” Bingley countered as his head turned toward the door, the butler ready to announce supper, “that my team played every week, and though I cannot claim victory on my own, I did my part, I assure you.”
“Come,” Lady Charmane announced to the room, “supper is served, or as served as it shall be. Tonight the food is laid out on the side boards and each of us may fend for ourselves as we see fit!”
Holding out his arm for Miss Elizabeth, Darcy asked if he might join her, her gaze flitting over her sisters to see that they would not be left alone before accepting–a concern easily remedied by an eager Bingley and a cousin far more inclined toward Miss Mary’s company than Darcy could recall.
Attention returning to the beguiling Bennet beside him, Darcy’s breath caught.
His cousin appeared in full danger of losing his heart. Bingley probably already had. And he… he had been caught up by Miss Elizabeth in such a way as he never had been. He had noticed the beauty of a woman before. Admired the conversation of a few who had more to say than most. Yet… nothing like this. Nothing akin to what he felt when near her or apart.
Foolish! That was what it was. Feeling for a woman he had known so short a time–even if they had spent more hours in company than many couples upon the gentleman’s proposal of marriage.
Couple? He had not even begun to court her. Yet, such an action would determine if he had merely lost his mind or if he had in fact lost his heart? Her father could not be asked for permission to court her… and so soon after meeting, posing the question to her might frighten. A week? Yes, if he felt as he did in a week, and she gave even the slightest encouragement, he would ask to court her.
There. That was not so hard.
