I balled my fists. “Well, we are nearly alone now,” I said, with a look toward the ballroom. “Almost alone enough to require a chaperon. Feel free to explain yourself.”
His jaw tensed, and I saw him swallow. His chest rose and fell, and he blinked, almost as if he were considering what to say. But just when he was opening his mouth, Mr. Bingley appeared behind him—laughing, with Jane on his arm.
“Ah, Darcy, Miss Elizabeth!” he exclaimed. “We came out here for a bit of… air, but it seems you found it first. Dash it all, my man!”
Mr. Darcy blinked at his friend. “I beg your pardon?”
Mr. Bingley grinned and pointed up at the door frame under which Darcy had been standing. And that wretched holiday weed, covered in shining white berries, dropping so innocently from the opening. How had I missed that?
“Oh, don’t play coy, Darcy. Tradition demands a kiss. Or if not… I say, make way for others.”
My cheeks burned hotter than a blacksmith’s forge. Darcy’s expression was unreadable, but his face held a faint flush. Without a word or a glance in my direction, he stepped away.
Bingley, seemingly oblivious to the charged air, clapped Darcy on the back and followed him, laughing about going after some punch. I watched them for a moment, then turned to my sister, who had stayed behind.
“We ruined that for you, didn’t we?” I mumbled.
Jane caught my arm. “I was about to ask ifweruined it foryou.”
I sputtered and rubbed my face. “Me, kiss Mr. Darcy? Jane, you have had too much wine.”
“And you look like you need some more. Come along.”
Iwantednothingmorethan to go home. Not back to Cheapside—back to Longbourn. Back to Papa in his book room and Mama with her salts… Kitty and Lydia with their bickering and Mary with her piano. How dear each little annoyance became when I was far from the ones I loved! Letters were not enough. This would be the first Christmas morning I would not awaken in my childhood bedroom and stumble down the stairs to the fireplace to see whether there was an orange in my stocking.
And why? Because my vanity had brought me here.
I loved my aunt and uncle dearly, but coming to their home this Christmas was a mistake. I should have left well enough alone. Then, Charlotte might have the pleasure of spending her last Christmas with her mother, and Jane…
Well, Jane might be the only one to come out to advantage from this trip. There seemed to remain few impediments to her happiness with Mr. Bingley, if his sister would just stay out of the way. And as Mr. Bingley now knew the deception of which his sister was capable, perhaps there was hope there.
But for Charlotte, and for me, it would have been better if we had never come.
My enthusiasm for making her wish come true had led me into pressuring her beyond her means. She had always been the pragmatic one, focused on practical matters rather than flights of fancy. Perhaps we could have found some quiet way to grant some of her last wishes at home. Not as dazzling, perhaps. But not something that would drain the life out of her, either. I was shortening whatever she had left.
And yet... the longing in her eyes when she spoke of romance had seemed so real. How could I not try to give her that one small piece of happiness?
Jane stayed with me for a little while until Mr. Van der Meer came for her to dance their promised set. After that, I was alone. Charlotte was sitting down across the room, and I stiffened when I saw she had found a strange champion to keep her company—Mr. Darcy, of all people. It did not look as if they had much to say to one another, but the fact that he had chosen to stand by her intentionally was obvious. And rather touching, to be honest.
“Are you well, Lizzy?” My aunt’s voice at my shoulder caused me to turn in surprise.
I sighed. “Tolerably.”
“What disappoints you so this evening? Has no one invited you to dance?”
I smiled. “Oh, yes. I have had quite enough of that sort of entertainment for the evening. I was only concerned for Charlotte.”
My aunt followed my gaze, and her eyebrows raised softly. “Lizzy, Miss Lucas does not expect you to move mountains for her. Being her friend is enough.”
“But as her friend, I should be able to at least make her happy. It just… it is not working as I thought it would.”
My aunt rested her hand on my arm. “Cheer up, Lizzy. Seeing you frowning and fussing over her is not like to make Miss Lucas any happier.”
I lifted my shoulders. “I suppose you are right.”
She squeezed my arm and leaned close to whisper, “I usually am.”
Inavigatedmywayacross the room toward Charlotte with a smile that was much wider than honesty would allow. She looked pleased and made room for me on the little settee she had claimed. “There you are, Lizzy. I was starting to wonder what had become of you.”
