Charlotte’s eyes danced with amusement as she whispered, “Perhaps he’s finally hidden away Miss Bingley’s preferred guest list and she had no one else to invite.”
I snorted. “Or perhaps she has been overdecorating and is presently trapped under falling holly boughs, and therefore cannot protest our attendance.”
Aunt Gardiner failed to suppress her chuckle, waving her hand dismissively. “Oh, Lizzy! She cannot be that resentful.”
Charlotte and I shared a look, and she almost snickered into her tea. “Yes,” I stated flatly. “Yes, I believe she can.”
20 December
Theeveningairwasbrisk, and our breaths formed little clouds in front of us as we alighted from the carriage in front of Mr. Bingley’s elegant townhouse in Mayfair. The façade was lit by softly glowing lanterns, while the scent of burning wood wafted our way, promising warmth inside.
Our footsteps echoed on the cobbled path as we approached, the muted sound of a string quartet reaching our ears. We were ushered in by Mr. Bingley’s footman, the door opening to reveal a grand entryway adorned with ivy and holly garlands intertwined with red ribbons.
Jane’s fingers whisked over my arm, her wide eyes communicating her shared astonishment at the splendor of the surroundings. As we handed our cloaks to the waiting servant, Aunt Gardiner leaned in, whispering, “This is quite the display. Miss Bingley means to make an impression on someone.”
I nodded, taking in the scene before us—the golden glow of candlelight illuminated a room filled with some of London’s elite, the men in their finest tailcoats, and the women in gowns that shimmered and rustled with every movement. The faint aroma of spiced wine permeated the air. “No prizes for guessingwhoshe is trying to impress,“ I murmured to Charlotte. She snickered.
As we entered, Mr. Bingley was quick to spot us, immediately making his way over with an effusive welcome. “Miss Bennet! Mrs. Gardiner! So delighted you could join us.” He greeted the rest of us as well, but his eyes lingered on Jane, a warm smile lighting his face like a beacon.
“And we are delighted to be here, Mr. Bingley,” Aunt Gardiner replied... but I am not certain he heard her. He offered Jane his arm and led her away to the refreshment table. And that was the last I saw of either of them for a long time.
While Mr. Bingley was occupied with Jane, I scanned the room, my gaze inevitably settling on a tall, brooding figure by the fireplace. Mr. Darcy’s eyes met mine briefly before he nodded, his face unreadable.
Miss Bingley, seeing our arrival, swooped in with a flourish, her face arranged in a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Miss Lucas, Eliza, what a pleasure you could come. And at the last minute, too! How fortunate you were not already invited somewhere else,” she cooed. “I do hope you find everything to your liking.”
Before I could make any sort of comment, Aunt Gardiner stepped in—which was probably for the best. “Your home is beautifully appointed, Miss Bingley. Thank you for inviting us.”
She gave a pretty little laugh and flipped her hand. “Of course. Charles simplyhadto inviteeveryone. Oh, will you excuse me, Eliza? I must greet Mrs. Rutherford.”
“And a very good evening to you, too... Caro,” I muttered as she moved away.
“She is not best pleased by our presence, is she?” Charlotte whispered. “Mr. Bingley must beveryfond of Jane, to have carried his way against her.”
I nodded, my eyebrows arching in appreciation. Charlotte was right—and I would have given a great deal to witness the pitched battle of wills that had probably been waged over our invitation.
Aunt and Uncle soon found someone they knew, and Charlotte and I moved further into the room, admiring the decorations and taking glasses from passing footmen. “It is a pity there is no dancing tonight,” Charlotte murmured. “I would have expected it from Miss Bingley. Was she not always seeking to make Mr. Darcy dance with her?”
I glanced around the room at the finely dressed guests, then back at Charlotte, and uttered a mirthless laugh. “Oh, I don’t think Miss Bingley wants to promote any romance between her brother and Jane. Or...” I chuckled. “She fears she will not compare favorably with her guests here. I see any number of ladies who could probably make more pleasing partners.”
Charlotte laughed. “No, it is onlyyoushe feels threatened by.”
I rolled my eyes and glanced around the room at our fellow guests. Mr. Darcy was still standing by the fireplace, alone with a glass of wine, and if I leaned to my right and peered through the masses of people, I could just make out the form of Jane entwined in conversation with Mr. Bingley across the room—but most of the other faces were unfamiliar. Figures dotted around us in conversation clusters and small groups of people sipping drinks from crystal glasses and nibbling on delicate pastries from silver plates. A row of young gentlemen lined up on the refreshment table alongside ornately decorated chocolate truffles and meringue tarts piled high on tiered cake stands. Plenty of prospects for Charlotte!
Except... I twisted around, scanning every beam and archway and hall entrance in the house.
No mistletoe.
12
20 December
Iblinkedandturnedaround again, my eyes scanning every wall. No mistletoe atall?That could not be. But there was none! Not even a stray berry or a denuded branch.
I nudged Charlotte’s side and pointed toward the boughs of holly festooning the arch over the hallway.
“What is it?” she asked.
“The mistletoe! Or rather—the lack thereof.”
