Darcy, clearly unwilling to let her challenge go unanswered, stepped onto the ice. His movements were deliberate but assured, his skates cutting clean arcs across the frozen pond. Elizabeth smirked, admiring his form but unwilling to give him the satisfaction of acknowledgment.
Nearby, Jane clung to Bingley’s arm, her laugh soft and delighted as he guided her in slow, careful loops. Elizabeth’s heart warmed at the sight of her sister’s happiness.
“Lizzy!” Jane called, her voice carrying over the laughter and chatter around them. “Is this not the most splendid morning?”
“It is rather fine,” Elizabeth admitted, catching up with her sister with a few brisk strides. “Though I suspect you find it even finer in Mr. Bingley’s company.”
Jane blushed prettily, and Bingley beamed, looking altogether too pleased with himself. “Miss Elizabeth, you wound me. Surely, the morning’s charm extends to all of us.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth for a witty retort, but a ripple of laughter from the growing crowd at the edge of the pond drew her attention. Familiar faces from Meryton gathered in clusters, their curiosity outweighing their initial reservations. Mothers stood bundled against the cold, daughters stealing glances at Darcy and Bingley, while the younger children clamored to join the fun.
Darcy glided past Elizabeth, his movements deliberate as he navigated toward Jane and Bingley. His gaze flicked briefly toward the onlookers, his expression composed, though Elizabeth caught a slight tightening at the corner of his mouth.
“Do you think the good people of Meryton will embrace such festivities?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the clusters of townsfolk.
Elizabeth considered the question, watching as Lydia and Kitty skated past, chattering animatedly. A few of the younger Meryton ladies exchanged hesitant smiles with them, their initial stiffness melting under the pull of shared amusement.
“It seems to me they already are,” Elizabeth replied, tipping her chin toward the shifting dynamic. “Though I suspect it is less about the skating and more about their curiosity.”
“Curiosity can be a powerful motivator,” Darcy said, his attention lingering on a group of merchants gesturing toward Bingley.
“And once satisfied?” Elizabeth asked.
Darcy’s gaze returned to her, and for a moment, his intensity seemed almost warm. “It depends entirely on what they discover.”
Elizabeth held his gaze, her pulse quickening despite herself. “Then I hope, Mr. Darcy, that you are prepared to exceed expectations.”
“And again, Miss Elizabeth, that will be a matter of opinion. What is yours?”
She frowned, tilting her head playfully. “Favorable. But my opinion matters little. The rest… it will take time,” she said honestly. “But even the coldest ice thaws eventually, Mr. Darcy.”
Let us hope you are right, Miss Elizabeth.”
Her stomach gave an odd flutter, but she brushed it aside. “Shall we test that theory, sir? Or are you content to let Mr. Bingley steal all the attention?”
Darcy grinned, though he said nothing. He offered Elizabeth his hand and propelled himself toward the far side of the pond. Elizabeth followed, the cool air sharpening her focus as they wove between slower-moving skaters.
Bingley’s laughter rang out again, this time drawing Elizabeth’s attention to a group of children, squealing with delight as Bingley spun them each in turn in fast circles on the ice. Jane stood nearby, her hands clasped as she watched.
Elizabeth paused, her gaze sweeping over the pond, where activity hummed with a growing vibrancy. Mr. Bingley had moved from playing with children to coaxing a cluster of young men and boys from the town to join him. “Come along, gentlemen! The ice is solid, I promise. Besides, we cannot let the ladies have all the fun!” His goads and dares were apparently infectious enough that one or two reluctantly laced their skates and ventured forth, muttering excuses about boots and cold toes.
Elizabeth’s eyes shifted to Mr. Darcy, who had positioned himself near a group of older gentlemen huddled in conversation by the benches. He inclined his head politely. “The conditions could not be better,” he said. “Though I confess, I am no expert skater myself. Still, the exercise is bracing, and I find it quite improves one’s mood.”
One of the men, Mr. Long, rubbed his hands together, eyeing the pond. “I cannot recall the last time I ventured onto skates. My wife claims I am a danger to myself in such conditions.”
“Better to be cautious than reckless,” Darcy agreed, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “But perhaps your wife might enjoy watching you take to the ice again, if only to prove that she has nothing to fear.”
The other men chuckled at this, and Mr. Long gave a mock sigh. “You put me to shame, sir. Very well, I shall give it a go—but if I land on my back, I shall blame you.”
Elizabeth found herself suppressing a laugh as Mr. Long shuffled off to fetch his skates. She turned her attention to the ice, where Lydia and Kitty twirled past with a gaggle of Meryton girls, their shrieks of laughter cutting through the frosty air.
A few minutes later, Darcy was guiding a hesitant Violet King onto the ice, his hand extended in silent encouragement. She looked up at him, her nervous smile softening as she let him lead her a few steps forward.
“You see?” Darcy said, his voice calm and steady. “One step at a time. The ice will hold.”
Violet wobbled slightly, her grip tightening on his arm, but she nodded as she gazed up at him, her eyes round with awe and some degree of flirtatious longing. “I… I think I might manage it.”
“That is the spirit. You need not rush. We are in no competition here.”
