Suddenly every word of her quarrel with Mr. Darcy rushed back to her, with both anger and embarrassment. Anger at him for what he had done, and mortification that she had lost her temper and behaved in manner that could only confirm his low opinion of her and her family.
And now she was snooping in his letter.
She tore her eyes away from it. There was no reason to read it, anyway. It was just a letter to his friend, nothing to do with her. Instead, she said the first thing that jumped into her mind. “Do you think your brother would like to join us? I brought a third one just in case.”
The girl looked up from the blank paper she was frowning over, and her face brightened. “I will ask him.”
Elizabeth had asked for him to join them.The words kept echoing in Darcy’s head. Had she read the letter he haddeliberately left out, the one where he told Bingley he had been wrong about Miss Bennet's sentiments? It had seemed like a sign when she arrived just as he was writing, and on impulse he had left it there where she might notice.
It would be some comfort, during his long, lonely nights, to know she would be thinking a little better of him. That he might make mistakes, but he would repair them.
But this was not the moment to think of how often he dreamed of Elizabeth Bennet. He was supposed to be deciding what he wanted to burn in the fire, and he would never surrender his memories of her, no matter how much she might haunt him.
He picked up the pen. What did he want to leave behind him? Apart from George Wickham, but he had long since realized that particular burr would stick to his coattails forever regardless of what he did. What could he change?
Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched Elizabeth coaxing a smile out of his sister. The one whom none of the finest doctors in London could help, who could not be cheered by any of the well-bred friends he had pressured into visiting her, who could not be pleased by any of the expensive gifts he bought her. Who was finally finding a trace of happiness thanks to Elizabeth Bennet, the woman whom Darcy had judged not good enough for him.
Elizabeth, who had befriended her not in the hope of the favors Darcy could do for her or because she had thought there was an advantage in it, but because she had seen a girl in pain and thought to relieve it. Did he know anyone in fine London society who would have done the same?
He dipped the pen in the ink and wrote quickly, 'Misplaced pride. Judging people based on my first impressions and society's expectations rather than their true worth.' He waved his hand to dry it, then rolled it up tightly and tucked it inside theribbon. Unlike his letter to Bingley, this was not for Elizabeth's eyes.
What had she written on hers? Surely if his name had been on her list, she would not have invited him to take part in this.
He joined them by the hearth, holding up his packet. “I am ready.”
“Excellent,” she said. “On the count of three, then. Miss Darcy, will you do the honors?”
How cleverly she had made Georgiana take an active role!
His sister raised her chin. “To new beginnings. One, two, three.” She tossed her tied-up twigs into the fire.
Elizabeth followed suit, and his was next, landing almost on top of Elizabeth's. Lucky twigs, to be able to touch hers! If only he had the privilege of being so close to her, even if it meant burning up. He was already on fire for her, after all.
Tendrils of grey smoke rose as the paper was engulfed in flames. Darcy kept his gaze fixed on the ribbons curling and turning black; it was safer than watching Elizabeth. His expression might give too much away.
“Out with the old, in with the new,” Elizabeth murmured.
Chapter 5
Darcypeeredoutthewindow of the cottage at the new snow that had fallen overnight. Only an inch or two, but disappointment fell on him like a weight. It was Boxing Day, and he had lived in waiting to see her again. But it would not be today, after all, and might not even be tomorrow.
Georgiana stepped up beside him. “Will it keep Miss Bennet from calling today? She said she would.”
“Most likely,” he acknowledged, the words bitter in his mouth.
The animation fled from Georgiana’s face. “I was looking forward to seeing her,” she said, in a ghost of the voice she had used a moment earlier.
He glanced at her, seeing the telltale signs of her decline. It had been a little better since she met Elizabeth, but it only took a small disappointment to set her back.
What would Elizabeth say if she were here? He tried to imagine it. “I think she is looking out her bedroom window at Longbourn, making plans for when she will be able to see you again. She truly enjoys your company. And then she will see the sun sparkling on the snow, and enjoy the reminder of beauty even in the cold. She might even go out and make a snowball, just for the enjoyment of it.”
The idea of Elizabeth playing in snow made him feel better, at least. She would love the deeper snows at Pemberley, where he would wrap her in blankets and take her out in the old sleigh. If only it could be!
Georgiana sighed wistfully. “You are right. She would see the beauty in it.”
If only he could see her, with her eyes that sparkled more brightly than the snow in sunshine.
The knock came unexpectedly. As if Darcy had not been hoping against hope for it. As if he had not been close to the point of damning secrecy and marching over to Longbourn to see Elizabeth, snow or no snow. If only he had some way of explaining his presence there!
