“The choir sings beautifully,” I managed in reply, willing my voice not to shake. In truth, I scarcely heard them now above the pounding of my heart.
I turned my attention back to the performance, though my thoughts continued to swirl. The choir’s soaring voices filled the chapel as they sang of hope and redemption, but I found my own spirit restless and unsettled. Charlotte gave a soft sigh and rested a hand over her heart. My senses prickled in an instant. Was it the music or her malady that made her heart flutter? But before I could inquire, Mr. Van der Meer was already asking after her welfare, and lending her his arm again for strength.
I smiled faintly at the warm blush that stained Charlotte’s cheeks at his solicitousness. A pity he was so kind, so handsome—indeed, one of London’s most eligible bachelors, for he was entirely wasted on us. Jane’s heart was captured elsewhere, mine was too impatient, and Charlotte… well, surely an invalid could not tempt one such as him.
My eyes drifted across the crowded pews, where flickering candles cast a warm, golden glow onto solemn faces. Christmas was nearly upon us, a time for joyful celebration, and yet I could not seem to still my churning mind. There was much I did not understand about matters of the heart. I had always prided myself on my discernment, but now I questioned all I thought I knew. Miss Darcy, for instance. I had heard the most unflattering things of her, but my brief encounters with the girl made me think I would like her for a friend. Something was not aligning properly, whether it was my own powers of observation or the words of one I thought I could trust.
The choir concluded their performance to reverent sighs and cries of delight. People began filing quietly out of their pews and toward the vestibule. Uncle Gardiner was distracted in speaking with someone he knew, and Charlotte had mentioned a wish to wander the church, admiring the candles and all the monuments collected therein. As they were nothing novel to me, I let Mr. Van der Meer take my place as her escort and wandered outside with Jane and my aunt.
As we made our way to the walk outside, I felt a light touch at my elbow. Turning, I found Mr. Darcy beside me, a tentative smile on his usually stern lips. “Might we have the honor of escorting you on a turn about the square, Miss Elizabeth?” His voice was husky, uncertain. “Georgiana and I desired to take in the fresh air for the evening before returning home.”
I glanced at Aunt Gardiner, who gave me a knowing look and a subtle nod. Drawing a deep breath, I smiled at Miss Darcy, who already held her brother’s right arm, and placed my hand on his left. “I would be delighted.”
The chill nipped at our cheeks as we strolled beneath the starry sky. There was a peculiar frosty smell in the air—the kind I always associated with a powdery flurry of snow. We walked in silence for a few moments, the only sounds coming from the muted conversations of the crowd and the distant clatter of carriages from the main road beyond. Finally, Mr. Darcy cleared his throat, his voice low and measured. “It is a beautiful night.”
I smiled, relieved that he had finally said something, and it need not fall to me. “Indeed, it is. I was surprised to find your party in attendance this evening.”
His cheek flickered and his eyes shifted quickly, then just as quickly, he was staring forward again. “I would have attended St. George’s, but I was obliged on the same evening to make an appearance at Lady Matlock’s party. As Georgiana desired to hear a choral performance this season, this presented itself as an eligible opportunity.”
“Ah,” I murmured, glancing across his chest at the girl walking on his right. “And did you enjoy it, Miss Darcy?”
“Very much!” she gushed. “I particularly admired the soprano.”
I nodded in agreement, about to share my thoughts on the performance, when I felt a light brush against my cheek. I turned my face to the skies and gasped at the delicate snowflakes drifting down from the heavens. They landed softly on our coats, on the ground, and in our hair. I laughed and held out my hand, palm facing up, and watched as a few settled there, melting upon contact.
Miss Darcy giggled as she tried to catch a few herself. “They always write snow as being so cold and harsh in fairy tales, but how could they? I think it is magical!” she exclaimed, her eyes alight as she let her brother’s arm go and spun round, catching as many flakes as she could on her face and her gloved hands.
“I believe you have the right of it, Miss Darcy. What is winter without the pure washing away of the year’s ills and the holy blanket of silence and comfort over all that would seek to distract us? There is nothing like a snowfall to tuck one year away and open a new one.”
I tilted my chin and flashed a teasing smile at Mr. Darcy, expecting him to spar with me in his usual way. He never could let a comment of mine pass without finding a way to disagree. Instead, I was met with his piercing gaze, rooted deeply into mine, an almost desperate stillness about him, as if he’d forgotten how to breathe. The warmth of surprise rushed to my cheeks.
He swallowed, his throat bobbing faintly—his sister forgotten as she twirled in the fresh snowfall. “Indeed,” he murmured. “Nothing at all like a new beginning.” He cleared his throat. “Ah… pardon me, Miss Elizabeth, but you have… on your eyelashes…”
I grinned and blinked away the bit of icy fluff, then turned my face up to the heavens so I might collect more. “And you will find me utterly unrepentant, for I would far rather revel in the beauty of nature than trouble myself over what others might think. Do I shock and offend you, sir?”
His mouth opened, and I saw him swallow. “Far from it, Miss Elizabeth. I have ceased being ‘shocked’ by anything you might do.”
I lowered my face to look at him fully. “Then, perhaps I am fallen out of practice.”
“Heaven forbid.” His voice was husky, low—so low that I doubted Miss Darcy could even hear it. “It is a rare thing to allow oneself to find beauty in the simplest things. And rarer still for a lady to embrace that beauty so boldly. Far from shocked and offended, I find myself… rather enchanted.”
I had never heard him speak so. Had he been dipping into the mulled wine before he came to the choral performance this evening? I swept his expression, searching for evidence of intoxication, but all I found was a smile.
Mr. Darcy. Smiling.
Oh, this was far too dangerous for my own good. Because if he had caught my notice when his look was severe and disapproving, he made me almost his slave when he smiled. For mercy’s sake, did other men evenexistwhen there was one who could smile like that?
I caught my breath, but it sucked over my teeth like a shiver. “I believe I should get back,” I whispered. “Charlotte will be ready to return home by now.”
Mr. Darcy’s smile wavered, faded, and then returned. “Of course. I thank you for your company, Miss Elizabeth. Georgiana, shall we?” He offered us each his arm, and this time, I let mine loop through his instead of just resting my hand on his sleeve. It was cold out, after all, and Mr. Darcy was… rather warm.
10
16 December
“Wouldyoucareforanother cup of tea, my dear?” Aunt Gardiner inquired, her voice as comforting and warm as the fire crackling beside us.
I thanked my aunt, gratefully accepting her steaming beverage. The tea was infused with cinnamon and ginger, and it warmed me to my soul. The room radiated ruby light and gold-tinted shadows from the firelight. Garlands of holly and ivy adorned every surface, each red berry glittering like a tiny crystal necklace. Jane looked more relaxed than she had in weeks, reclining beside the hearth, where three logs were ablaze in the fireplace. Charlotte had the sofa to herself, and Aunt Gardiner had buried her in a mountain of quilts that almost hid her form. She fingered her teacup and tasted it, then set it aside.
