Elizabeth adjusted her bonnetas the pony cart trundled along the snowy road toward Meryton, her gloved hands steady on the reins. Beside her, Darcy sat as stiffly as ever, his posture impeccable even in the relative discomfort of the cart. His expression was a study in composed indifference, though Elizabeth could detect the faintest flicker of curiosity in his eyes.
“You are remarkably silent today, Mr. Darcy,” she said, her tone light. “Have I already exhausted your tolerance for my company?”
“Not at all,” he replied, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Though I confess I am curious as to why you were so insistent on this trip to town.”
Elizabeth hesitated, biting her lip to keep from smiling. “It is nothing of great importance,” she said casually.
Darcy’s brow arched. “Elizabeth, when you insist upon something ‘unimportant,’ I am inclined to believe the opposite.”
She laughed, unable to resist his dry tone. “Very well, if you must know, I have… a small wager to settle.”
Darcy turned to her fully, his expression equal parts incredulous and exasperated. “Another wager?”
“Indeed,” she said breezily. “With my aunt Philips. She is positively convinced that you are less than six feet tall, while I maintain that you two inches over.”
Darcy blinked, clearly unprepared for such nonsense. “You are dragging me to Meryton to measure me?”
Elizabeth grinned. “Not at all.Iknow how tall you are. I simply thought my aunt might like to see the proof with her own eyes.”
Darcy stared at her for a moment, his jaw tightening as he fought to suppress a smile. “You are impossible.”
“I have been told so before,” she replied cheerfully. “And before you protest, I should inform you that the stakes are quite high.”
“Pray, enlighten me,” he said, his voice dry but edged with curiosity.
“My aunt has wagered her finest tea set,” Elizabeth said with mock solemnity. “And as I am quite in need of a new one, I could hardly decline.”
Darcy groaned softly, leaning back in the seat as if the weight of the world had just been placed upon him. “Elizabeth, if a tea set is all you desire, I will gladly buy you one. There is no need for these… absurd wagers.”
Elizabeth sighed dramatically, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You are quite missing the point, Mr. Darcy. It is not about the tea set. It is about the principle of the matter.”
Darcy turned his head to regard her, his expression a mixture of disbelief and reluctant amusement. “And what principle might that be?”
“That I never win,” she said with mock solemnity. “Not a single wager in all my life—unless you count the time I bested Mr. Wickham over Sir William's long-windedness, but as he never paid up, I do not think that one counts. Butthisone, I wascertain of. After all, I have stood beside you often enough to know.”
Darcy shook his head, his lips twitching with suppressed laughter. “Elizabeth, I will not humor this foolishness.”
Elizabeth glanced at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Very well,” she said with a mock sigh. “If you are so determined to deny me the tea set, I shall have to content myself with my second wager of the day.”
“Second wager?” he repeated, his brow furrowing.
“Yes,” she said lightly, her tone almost careless. “With the bookseller. I wagered that a certain volume of essays my father ordered would arrive today.”
Darcy pinched the bridge of his nose, though his shoulders shook faintly with suppressed laughter. “And did it?”
Elizabeth sighed again, this time more dramatically. “That is what I mean to find out, but according to my Aunt Philips, who called at Longbourn this morning, no parcels were delivered to the bookseller this morning by the post. So, it probably did not.”
Darcy chuckled, shaking his head. “You have a remarkable talent for losing wagers, Elizabeth.”
“It is a gift,” she said with a wry smile. “And one I appear destined to keep.”
As the pony cart came to a halt outside the Meryton shops, Darcy climbed down first, his boots crunching against the snow. He turned to offer her his hand, his gaze still alight with amusement. “Elizabeth,” he said, his tone half-teasing, “I refuse to be complicit in your wagering schemes.”
She took his hand, her lips curving into a playful smile. “Then wait here, Mr. Darcy. I shall face my defeats alone.”
Darcy crossed his arms, leaning against the cart with an air of feigned sternness. “Very well. But do not expect me to rescue you from the consequences of your folly.”
Elizabeth laughed as she turned toward the bookshop. Over her shoulder, she called, “Perhaps you should wager on how long it will take me to settle this one, Mr. Darcy. Then you might understand my plight.”
