“He is rather more perceptive than I had given him credit for.”
Jane caught her lip between her teeth. “Oh, that is very fine. So very kind! But I confess, I had also hoped…”
“Hoped what?”
She grinned shyly and shrugged. “Youdidgo off with him twice. I naturally assumed…”
I raised a brow and shook my head. “You and Mr. Bingley and your mistletoe mischief.No, nothing of the kind ever took place, nor shall it. Mr. Darcy, of all people! I should have thought you would not have time to notice whatIwas doing, being rather preoccupied, yourself.”
Jane blushed, then glanced across the room before withdrawing her handkerchief and plucking a small, silver-toned mistletoe berry from within its clutch. “I saved it,” she whispered.
“Jane!” I laughed. “I hope I know the name of the lucky gentleman?”
“Of course you do!”
“So?” I clasped her hand and stared expectantly at her. “Do you have any news this morning?”
“Oh, Lizzy, it was just a party. Kissing a man at a Christmas party does not automatically lead to an engagement. You know that.”
“When the man gapes at you and follows you around the way Mr. Bingley does, it would seem to increase the likelihood.”
“Well, perhaps. I do feel I have cause to hope. And what of you, Lizzy?”
“Hmm? Oh! I am not waiting for any sort of… Oh. You are talking about…” My brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”
She tilted her head. “Mr. Darcy. The doctor. Charlotte?”
“Right. Yes.” I drank in a breath and shook myself. “I was planning to ask our uncle if he could send a message to Mr. Darcy for me. But right now, I think I want some fresh air.”
She glanced at the window. “Now? But it’s Christmas Day! Hardly anyone will be out, and you cannot wander far alone. Why not stay here and rest with Aunt and Uncle and our cousins?”
I set my hand on her arm. “I am not going far. A few paces down the street, that is all. Just enough to get a bit of cold air in my lungs and clear my head. I’ll be back to drink more wassail with you in a quarter of an hour.”
Theairwascrispthis morning, biting my nose and lungs with the spice of withheld snow. I closed my eyes and cast my face up to the silvery sky as I descended the steps, my hands buried deep in my muff and my cape buttoned to my throat. The out of doors always cleared my head.
There had been a moment there, before I carried Mr. Darcy’s offer to Charlotte, when I had pondered on it rather deeply. Could I obligate myself to such a man? A man who vexed and provoked me at every turn, a man who always seemed just a step beyond my ken. And now, to place myself in his debt for his pains on my friend’s behalf…
Naturally, I would do anything for Charlotte. Never for a second did I think I couldnot, but it would be a lie to state that I did not suffer just a moment of anxiety over the consequences of accepting such a favor.
But now that I was out here, in the fresh air with no other voices cluttering my head, I laughed the notion off as preposterous. What had I thought? That Mr. Darcy would ask some compensation from me? Hold it over my head against some future day when he would seek some recompense? That he would demand… oh, what did I even have that he could possibly ask for? Nothing of value. No, no, he was not the man to do such a thing. He was good, and his offer was out of his goodness.
I struck up a distracted walk along the street, not meaning to roam much beyond the street corner, when a voice interrupted my thoughts. “Christmas morning, and you are not reveling indoors but out walking?”
I stopped and looked up at the figure ahead. “I appear not to be the only one,” I replied, a smile growing on my lips. There, leaning against a nearby railing, stood Mr. Darcy. Had he been waiting for me? “What brings you out on this fine morning? Should you not be home with your sister?”
He pushed himself off the iron railing and wandered toward me. “You left yours, I see.”
I waited for him to close the distance, my smile deepening. “Not for long. Jane has long grown accustomed to my need for solitude and fresh air when I want to clear my thoughts.”
“In that, then, we are alike.”
“Indeed?” I laughed. “You, ah, walked all the way from Mayfair on Christmas morning to ‘clear your thoughts’?”
“I suppose I did not walkallthe way,“ he chuckled, his gaze never leaving mine. “However, I must confess that I had hoped for an opportunity to speak with you.”
“About Charlotte?” I lowered my head and began to walk, and he fell into step beside me. “I received a rather curious note this morning.”
I heard a relieved sigh escape him. “So, you read my letter.”
