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Twelve Days

The days leading up to Twelfth Night were filled with Mr. Darcy. He accompanied Bingley to Longbourn almost daily. The Hursts and Miss Bingley stayed at Netherfield. Mrs. Hurst’s ailments persisted, and Miss Bingley had little interest in entertaining his brother’s choice of wife.

Elizabeth acted as Jane’s chaperone, though in truth, she ought to have had a chaperone herself. Darcy proved ever more attentive now that they had reached some semblance of an understanding. He brought her flowers from Netherfield’s hot house, shared letters he had received from his sister, and spoke of their future.

Their future. Yes, Elizabeth could not see a life without him beside her. They had fallen in love so rapidly; she was in the middle before she knew she had begun. Any lingering doubts about his past with Jane were further abandoned with every interaction.

Jane approved of Mr. Darcy for her sister. She made her sentiments known after learning Elizabeth had shared a kiss with the gentleman from the north.

“Is he now a hero rather than a villain?” she asked.

“He could be called that,” Elizabeth agreed. “Is it not strange how Providence has arranged things?”

“God has arranged it for the best,” Jane assured her.

Enough snow remained for a sleigh ride, and Bingley had arranged for an old sleigh to be brought out of Netherfield's carriage house. Darcy proved to be an expert driver. Elizabeth sat beside him, a shared rug over their legs. Jane and Bingley sat behind them. The horses moved swiftly over the white hills. Elizabeth admired the scenery. Snow rarely stayed around long enough to enjoy like this.

“Does Pemberley often have enough snow for a sleigh-ride?” she asked.

“Yes,” Darcy replied. “Sometimes we cannot leave the estate for days. I find I do not suffer for want of companionship during those times. At least, in the past, I did not.”

Elizabeth understood the unspoken. Darcy wished to tell her he could not be happy with solitude now.

Neither can I. I cannot be happy without him.

Jane’s wedding preparations became a frequent topic of conversation at Longbourn. A date had been set in January, much to Mrs. Bennet’s displeasure.

“A spring wedding is essential,” she cried when Jane announced she and Bingley would wed during the last week of January. “What of flowers?”

“Netherfield’s hot house can supply what we need,” Jane reasoned. “Why should I be required to delay my happiness until the weather turns?”

Mrs. Bennet did not argue after that.

Elizabeth pictured her own nuptials with every conversation. At her side, she saw Mr. Darcy. She knew he waited to propose until she gave him some indication of her readiness. The berry from the kissing bough remained in her pocket at all times. She often rolled it between her fingers, imagining handing it to him and having him press his lips to her own.

Her mother was not happy with only one daughter engaged.

“Why has Mr. Darcy not proposed?” she asked Elizabeth one morning.

“What can you mean?” she replied as innocently as she could manage.

“I am not blind, Elizabeth. Now that Jane is settled, I must turn my sights to you. Never did I think you would attract the notice of such an eligible, wealthy man, but here we are! If you let him slip through your fingers, you will never get another chance like this.”

“Mr. Darcy is his own man, Mama. I do not wish to frighten him away.” There was little chance of that, but how was she to tell her mother that the gentleman was waiting for her to be ready? Mama would never understand.

Sir William Lucas held a gathering on New Year’s Eve. His daughter, Mrs. Charlotte Smith, had come with her family.

Elizabeth noted Jane’s ease with attending—a first, given that Charlotte had married one of her suitors.

“I told Mr. Smith to pursue Charlotte,” Jane admitted at last when Elizabeth asked how she fared.

“You what?” she asked. “But you were heartbroken!”

“Embarrassed is a more accurate descriptor,” Jane corrected. “Everyone expected Mr. Smith to offer for me. ‘The pretty Miss Bennet’ was passed over in favor of Charlotte Lucas? Yes, I heard the whispers. I chose to keep my own counsel. Did I avoid gatherings where they were in attendance? Yes. I hated the gossip.”

Yet another thing about which I was wrong, Elizabeth mused as she prepared for the evening. What would Charlotte say about the turn of events?

They arrived at Lucas Lodge and were greeted by their host and hostess. Just inside the large parlor, Charlotte found them.