Darcy stood near the window, his arms crossed loosely as he watched the others. The snow beyond the glass had softened to a light dusting, though patches of ice still clung to the shaded edges of the garden paths. He shifted his gaze to Elizabeth, who was leafing through a book from one of the smaller shelves, her movements purposeful despite her apparent distraction.
The fire crackled, punctuating the exchange as more ideas for the party were proposed. Miss Elizabeth lifted her head and glanced toward the window, the faintest frown creasing her brow. Darcy pushed himself away from the sill and crossed the room, compelled to draw her into the conversation.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, his voice low enough to avoid disturbing the others. “May I trouble you for a moment?”
She turned, her expression shifting from thoughtfulness to mild surprise. “Of course, Mr. Darcy.”
He inclined his head slightly, suppressing a smile. “I wondered if your father had any further thoughts on the plans. It was rather bold of us to present them so decisively. I hope we have not caused him any annoyance.”
Elizabeth cast a glance toward Mr. Bennet, who was seated in a corner, apparently engrossed in a book but with a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Papa is not easily annoyed, sir. At least not when something entertains him.”
“Then I am relieved,” Darcy said. “Though I confess, what I value even more than your approval is your honest assessment of our chances.”
Elizabeth tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her gaze. “Our chances, Mr. Darcy? Of pulling the whole affair off without incident—or of persuading the neighborhood to join hands and sing carols in perfect harmony?”
“Both.”
She let out a small laugh. “If you wish for perfect harmony, I fear you may find disappointment. But if the goal is goodwill and a measure of unity, I believe it is not so hopeless as it might seem.”
“Not hopeless,” Darcy repeated, as though testing the phrase. “Do you truly believe so?”
“I do,” she said. “Though it will require effort—and perhaps a little cunning—to overcome the town’s natural… wariness.”
His brow lifted slightly. “And do you count yourself among the cunning?”
Her lips curved, her voice gaining a playful edge. “That, Mr. Darcy, is for you to judge. But I will say this: the people of Meryton are not so hard-hearted as they might appear. Beneath all their gossip and judgment, they long for a reason to feel proud of their community. If this party gives them such a reason, I believe they will come.”
Darcy regarded her for a moment, the quiet conviction in her voice drawing his admiration. “You make it sound almost simple.”
“Simple?” She laughed. “Not at all. But then, nothing worth doing ever is, is it?”
“I am gratified to hear that,” Darcy said. “You do not think it too ambitious?”
“Oh, it is ambitious. But ambition is often the hallmark of a worthwhile endeavor. Or so I have heard.”
A small smile touched his lips. “Then I shall take that as encouragement.”
“See that you do, Mr. Darcy.”
Before Darcy could respond further, Bingley’s voice rang out. “Darcy! You are monopolizing Miss Elizabeth.”
Darcy turned toward his friend. “I had not realized I was doing so.”
“Well, no harm done,” Bingley replied with a grin. “But Miss Bennet has just received word from the coachman. It seems the roads may be passable sooner than expected.”
“Mama will be relieved to see us home at last,” Miss Bennet said.
“Yes, she will,” Elizabeth replied, though her tone betrayed no particular joy at the thought. “But I fear we may have all manner of questions to answer.”
Darcy stepped closer, his hands clasped behind his back as he considered her words. “Your mother is not so amenable as your father to… keeping certain company?”
“That depends.” Elizabeth’s lips curved faintly. “I imagine word that there were two single gentlemen staying here will go some way toward comforting her.”
Darcy frowned. “I imagine.”
“You must know how quickly rumors spread in small towns, Mr. Darcy.”
His brow furrowed. “If such questions arise, I hope you will allow me to take responsibility. It is the fault of the weather, not your family.”
