“Can you not count? That is only seven! It is me who got eight!”
And Mr. Bingley stopped the argument, saying, “Mrs. Bingley here got eleven, but she does not want me to say so!”
“Oh, Charles! I do not need to win the game!”
“But youdidwin!”
Mrs. Bennet happily pronounced Mrs. Bingley the winner of Snapdragon.
In the drawing room, riddles were suggested. Mr. Fitzwilliam began with, “Why is a pheasant like a writing desk?”
It was Mr. Bennet who replied, “Both have quills!”
“Very good, Mr. Bennet! Shall you give us one?”
“Very well.” He paused in thought. “I'm here and there and all-around.I don't actually exist but can be found. No, not you, Lizzy. I know you know the answer!”
Elizabeth sat with her lips pressed together, eyes laughing.
Mary answered, “Is it a shadow, Papa?”
“Very good, Mary! You go next.”
“Here is one I read last week. Though legs I have got, it is seldom I walk. I backbite many but never talk. I seek places that can hide me, as those that feed me cannot abide me.”
This stumped the party for several minutes; it was Mrs. Bingley who called out, “A flea, is it not?”
“Well done, Georgiana!” Mr. Bingley’s grin was huge.
‘Mr. Darcy is right,’ Elizabeth thought. ‘Those two will be in love by the end of the night!’
“My turn!” Mrs. Bingley said, delightedly. “Here it is. Two brothers are we, yet can’t hope to be saved; from our very first day to our last, we’re enslaved; our office the hardest, and food surely the worst. Being crammed with warm flesh till we’re ready to burst; though low is our state, even kings we support, and at balls have the principal share in the sport!”
There was a long silence, as brows were knit and fingernails chewed.
“Crammed with warm flesh…Shoes! Slippers! Boots!” Mrs. Bennet fluttered her handkerchief, excitedly.
Mrs. Bingley agreed that ‘boots’ was the right answer.
Lydia suggested charades. She leapt to her feet to begin the fun.
Mr. Bennet was doing his best to capture Mr. Darcy’s attention, but the man had not once looked his way. Instead, Mr. Darcy spent a good deal of time staring at Lizzy, which was all well and good, but the mistletoe represented a far better opportunity to reclaim Lizzy than staring at her. Finally, Mr. Darcy glanced at Mr. Bennet, who immediately widened hiseyes. Aha! That had captured the man’s attention. Mr. Bennet then very deliberately turned his head to look at the mistletoe hanging in the doorway that separated the dining room from the parlour. He then turned his head back to Mr. Darcy and nodded.
The man looked puzzled. Mr. Bennet sighed to himself and repeated his pantomime again. Truly, was all of this younger generation so very dim? Mr. Bennet feared this did not bode well for the future of the Empire. Finally – finally! – the light dawned and Mr. Darcy nodded back at him, smiling.
Mr. Darcy thought hard. How was he to get Miss Elizabeth under the mistletoe so that he might claim a kiss from her? Ah!
“Miss Elizabeth, I require your assistance in acting out a charade.”
“Wait – are partners allowed?” Mary enquired.
“Of course,” Mr. Bennet responded quickly.
Elizabeth rose.
“Over here,” Mr. Darcy said, walking to the discretely hanging mistletoe.
Mr. Bennet saw Mary’s eyes follow him and then go up. She saw the mistletoe and immediately opened her mouth to say something. “”Mary, I need you here,” he said immediately.
