by Jennifer Joy
"How wicked of you to arrange for an excursion without me, Darcy. As you see, I had to arrange one all on my own and— what is worse— you deprived me of my best friend by including her in your party. I shall never forgive you," Sophia teased.
There were at least four other ladies with her, each accompanied by a gentleman to help her walk on the slippery ice, though it was difficult to distinguish who helped whom.
Mr. Darcy did not apologize.
Mr. Gordon grinned and handed Sophia her skates. "Pay him no mind, Sophia. It is merely the famous Darcy pride at work.”
Elizabeth saw the hurt in his eyes and could not bring herself to smile, though Mr. Gordon clearly teased him.
Sophia grabbed the skates from him. “Better to be proud than a shameless flirt.”
Mr. Gordon’s grin deepened. “Better to engage fully in the joys of living than watch with restrictive longing from afar.”
“Since you are here, would you like to join our party? My cook packed enough refreshments to satisfy a village, and I am certain that Georgiana would be pleased to see you,” Mr. Darcy said, extending his arm toward a sitting area where a servant stood guard over a table spread with their basket of provisions.
“I am always pleased to see Sophia, and even more delighted that she should join us as I widen my circle of friends,” said Georgiana, wrapping her hand around her brother’s arm.
Elizabeth scanned the growing crowd of skaters. “Where is Lydia?” she asked Georgiana.
“She and Miss Kitty went to inspect the tents some minutes ago. They want a keepsake to help them remember this day and assured me that they would not stray far, not having a chaperone to keep them company.”
“I am certain that you are more concerned for their safety than they are, Miss Darcy, and I thank you,” said Elizabeth. She searched across the row of tents and wooden structures for her sisters, but there were too many people milling about. Were she as tall as Mr. Darcy, she could see better.
“I believe I see them,” he said. “Would you like for me to—?”
“Help! Help! My girl is in danger!” cried Mother, interrupting all conversation.
Chapter 15
Elizabeth dashed across the ice to Mother.
Mr. Darcy’s baritone traveled to her ears directly behind her. “Stay here,” he instructed. Elizabeth was glad he kept his sister away. If Lydia was in danger, Elizabeth did not want Miss Darcy to witness it.
“Mother, what has happened?” she panted.
Jane held Mother’s skating chair still while Kitty clamped her hands over her mouth in dumb silence.
“Where is Lydia?” Elizabeth insisted.
Near hysterics, Mother was unable to say anything of use.
“Kitty, where is Lydia?” Elizabeth repeated frantically, her pulse pounding in her throat and her limbs shaking.
Mr. Darcy skidded to a stop behind her, his breaths coming out in powerful puffs.
Kitty looked between Mother and Mr. Darcy. She hiccupped, then she burst into tears.
Elizabeth resisted the urge to shake her. In a calmer voice, she asked once again, “Where is Lydia? Please, you must tell us so that we can help her.”
“Perhaps you can lead us to her?” suggested Mr. Darcy.
Wiping her nose against the sleeve of her coat, Kitty nodded her head and turned toward the tents, Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth holding onto Kitty’s arms so she would not fall on the ice in her boots.
“Wait! I must go with you!” exclaimed Mother from behind them, ignoring Jane’s pleas that she remain in her chair.
Mother made it five steps away from her chair, far enough that nothing surrounded her to prevent her fall. With a shriek, Mother’s arms flailed as her feet slipped out from under her.
Mr. Darcy dropped Kitty’s arm and pivoted to help her when Elizabeth called to him, “Wait!”
Mr. Gordon swooped behind Mother and in a maneuver that looked practiced in its elegance, he caught her around the waist and held her in place. More than that, Elizabeth did not see, for she and Mr. Darcy returned their attention to Kitty. Mr. Gordon would take care of Mother. They must make haste to Lydia.
A cluster of people surrounded a tent selling tissue flowers with ‘Frost Fair of 1812’ embossed in gold letters on a card and glued to the papered wire stem. The onlookers pointed and laughed as Kitty came to a stop in front of the object of their amusement.
Elizabeth turned to Kitty. “She is not in peril! She is merely suffering from her own foolishness,” she hissed, mortified that Mr. Darcy should be a witness to Lydia’s immaturity.
“Go back to Mother and tell her that Lydia will be very well soon… although she may not wish to talk much for the rest of the day. She is not in danger, and there is no need for hysterics.”
Kitty hiccupped again and left.
“If only they had a chaperone…” Elizabeth muttered to herself as she knelt down to unbuckle her skates.
Mr. Darcy walked through the clumped snow to stand between Lydia and the crowd. The skates added to his already impressive height, and he spoke in a booming, authoritative voice. “There is nothing to see here. Continue about your business.”
A few small children dared look over their shoulders as their parents herded them away, but nobody questioned him. They did as he bid.
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” she said.
A woman with an apron on came from out of the tent and joined them, her hands on her hips. Seeing Mr. Darcy standing next to Lydia, she spoke to him. “I told the young miss, and I will tell you the same: Her antics will not work on me. The paper flowers cost a shilling, and I will not accept anything less. Now, kindly remove her from my tent! She is distracting the customers.”
Thus addressed, Mr. Darcy replied, “We will extricate her from your property immediately and apologize for the trouble we have caused.”
Elizabeth had thought that her shame was complete. This went far beyond Lydia’s flirtations at the Netherfield Ball. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Darcy, but you really do not need to involve yourself. You have caused no problem. It is not your sister who has stuck herself to the tent pole.”
“All the same, I will return shortly.” He clamped his mouth shut, the muscles on the sides of his jaw pulsating. Elizabeth could only imagine what he thought of them at that moment. It could not be flattering.
She looked at her youngest sister, whose tongue stuck fast to the metal tent pole, and groaned. Of all the foolish schemes.
Lydia tried to protest, but only incoherent garble proceeded from her.
“Do not move so much, Lydia, or you will bring yourself more harm. Have you tried breathing on your tongue?” Elizabeth asked.
Lydia stomped her foot and bunched her eyebrows together.
“Very well. Something else then.”
Elizabeth searched around her for a patch of clean snow to melt in her hands. If she found enough, she would soon free Lydia’s tongue.
She shoved her gloves into her pockets and filled her hands with the puffy snow. Spinning toward Lydia as she stood, she saw Mr. Darcy round the corner at the front of the tent. He held a steaming beverage which he blew on until he saw her.
Working together in a single mind, he dumped a portion of the hot liquid out of the cup, and Elizabeth filled the empty space with snow. Dipping her little finger into the brew, she nodded at Mr. Darcy, who then poured the contents over Lydia’s tongue slowly.
“Your tongue will be swollen and your jaw may ache for some time, Miss Lydia. Might I suggest that you refrain from any unnecessary strain for the remainder of the day?” he said as the pole released its hold and Lydia stood upright, rubbing her throat and the small of her back.
She tried to give an answer, but decided to take his advice and remained quiet. Mumbling an inarticulate, “Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” she looked repentantly at Elizabeth. It was the same look she had given when she ate the last of the biscuits and felt very sorry about it when she suffered a stomach ache.
Elizabeth did what she always did. She embraced her and, with a mild rebuke, said, “You must leave your childish antics behind you. A young lady out in society ought not stick her tongue out in public, much less fix them to metal poles.”
Elizabeth avoided Mr. Darcy’s gaze until he spoke. “We should return to Mrs. Bennet and the others. They will be concerned.” The corner of his mouth curled up, confusing Elizabeth all the more.
The more he attempted to restrain his smile, the more Elizabeth appreciated the humor of what had transpired, until she had to bite her cheeks to keep from laughing.
Miss Darcy joined them as they neared their party. She was the only one who noticed them. Even Jane was fixed on the performance before them on the ice. Mr. Gordon leaped into the air, spun a full turn, and then landed with effortless grace. Sophia turned in circles around him, her movements as elegant as a ballerina. Elizabeth was not surprised to see proof of yet another accomplishment her friend had perfected. Elizabeth would fall flat on her face if she attempted such acrobatics.
Reaching her hand out to Lydia, Miss Darcy asked, “Are you well? Come and have a seat, and I will fetch a blanket for you to wrap around your shoulders.” She led them to an empty chair off to the side of their group where Lydia could appreciate Mr. Gordon and Sophia’s show.
After seeing to Lydia’s comfort, Miss Darcy asked, “What happened?”
Mr. Darcy chuckled, and Elizabeth struggled to contain the laughter welling up inside her.
Lydia rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to reveal a swollen, red tongue.
Miss Darcy’s eyes widened. “Oh no! You did not…?” She covered her mouth with her hands, then she smacked her brother on the arm. “It is no laughing matter, William,” she hissed, though she could not keep herself from smiling.
Elizabeth watched the Darcys’ playful exchange in interest.
With a crooked grin, Mr. Darcy looked at her. “I apologize, Miss Elizabeth. It appears that I miscalculated the number of times I have seen Georgiana angry. Miss Lydia has reminded me of another instance.”
Lydia’s attention had been captivated by Mr. Gordon.
Taking advantage of their privacy, Elizabeth looked to Georgiana for an explanation.
“You acted like such a… such a… such a boy!” Georgiana threw another weak punch at her brother’s arm, only making him laugh all the more.
“And what boy would not have laughed heartily at the scene you presented?” Mr. Darcy replied as he caught his breath.
Miss Darcy crossed her arms and glared at him for good measure. “Do you know how many times over the years I wished to trade you for a sister?”
Mr. Darcy clutched at his heart and sighed. “You would wish to trade back soon enough. I am certain that Miss Elizabeth would agree with me that having sisters is no less toilsome than having a bothersome older brother.”
“How can I disagree after what you have witnessed today?” Elizabeth teased. “Although I will admit that there have been times when I have wished to trade them for an older brother.”
Miss Darcy giggled. “Oh, I tease about trading William, but the fact of the matter is that there does not exist a better brother in the world. I was only embarrassed that I had allowed my fancies to lead me to stick my tongue to an icicle in the hopes of turning into a princess with a castle made of snowflakes and cherry blossoms.”
“You stuck your tongue to an icicle?” Elizabeth said between snickers.
“I was nine years old and had to stand on my tiptoes to reach it. How my jaw ached after being stuck there for what felt like forever before William found me. And do you know how he reacted?”
Mr. Darcy remained guiltily silent. Elizabeth had not noticed it before, but his chin had an indentation in it. It was not so deep as to be classified as a cleft or a dimple, but more like a slight dent which deepened as he smiled.
“He laughed,” Miss Darcy said, her merriment at the memory much stronger than her resentment.
So entranced had Elizabeth been by Mr. Darcy’s chin, it took her a moment to remember what they had been discussing. She shook her head. Ah, the tribulations of older brothers.
“The knight in shining armor is not supposed to laugh as he rescues the damsel in distress. Or have you not read enough fairy tales, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth asked.
Miss Darcy stopped laughing and looked up adoringly at him. “You have been the hero again today, though it appears as if nobody outside of us recognizes it.”
They looked at the group, who marveled and clapped as Mr. Gordon and Sophia bowed and curtsied at the end of their performance.
“I do not seek accolades. I want for nothing more than your approval,” he told his sister, raising her hand up to kiss it.
Elizabeth wondered what it would feel like to be cherished by Mr. Darcy. Er, rather, to be cherished in the manner Mr. Darcy treasured his sister. Elizabeth grew so warm, she expected to see a puddle of melted ice at her feet.
Mother noticed them then. “Oh, Lydia, you are safe! Now that you are returned to us, I must tell you how Mr. Gordon saved me from suffering a grave injury. He is quite the hero today and has been so good as to entertain us besides!”
Mr. Gordon was the hero? Elizabeth raised her hand to protest, but Mr. Darcy spoke before she could set them straight.
“Miss Elizabeth, let them continue in their distraction. You do not want to draw attention to what Miss Lydia did, do you? Let them forget.”
“It is not fair.”
“Maybe not, but if I understand your character well, you would rather spare your sister’s dignity than feed my pride.”
“It will be our special secret,” exclaimed Miss Darcy. “Like a secret code among friends!”
Mr. Darcy pierced Elizabeth with his crystal blue eyes. “Friends?”
“Friends,” she decided.
Chapter 16
February brought glimmers of a promising spring as the month progressed, and Elizabeth counted the days until the beginning of the London Season.
It hardly seemed like a month had passed since she had first met Georgiana, but the drawing room of Darcy House had become as familiar as her own.
Elizabeth sat between Jane and Georgiana, the latter fidgeting a great deal.
"It was lovely of you to invite us for tea, Georgiana. Who else is yet to arrive?" Elizabeth asked, indicating the two empty chairs at the table.
Georgiana bit her lips and wrinkled her nose.
Smiling at her, Elizabeth said, “Never mind. The surprise will be all the greater if you keep their identity a secret.” She would rather be patient than make her friend more uncomfortable than she already was.
Sophia, however, felt no such qualms. "I just hope that is not Miss Bingley. Mind you, I would never speak so plainly unless I knew myself to be amongst my dearest friends,” she added in case anyone dared question her manners.
For Jane’s sake, Elizabeth hoped the same. Their previous encounter with Miss Bingley had been so disagreeable, even Jane had put it out of her mind to call on her.
“Why should you dislike Miss Bingley? You hardly run in the same circles,” inquired Georgiana, chewing on her lower lip so that it turned strawberry red.
Elizabeth motioned to Sophia to hold her tongue, but Sophia was too excited about the topic to take her hint.
“She is so tedious with her attempts to improve her social standing by associating with you and Darcy. As if she has any hope in that quarter…"
The butler announced their last arrival. "Miss Bingley is here, Miss Darcy," he managed to say before the lady herself swooshed in.
Sophia pursed her lips and folded her hands together in her lap, the picture of prim politeness. Elizabeth wished to giggle, but she cast Sophia a punishing stare instead. It served her right. If Georgiana had invited Miss Bingley, then they must be polite to her or risk ruining Georgiana's tea.
"How good of you to join us, Miss Bingley," said Georgiana, looking around the table for support.
Elizabeth
reminded herself that no good would come from snubbing Mr. Bingley’s sister and smiled as sincerely as Jane.
Miss Bingley basked in the glow of Georgiana's welcome. "I must apologize for Louisa. She is indisposed, and the doctor insisted that she rest."
"I do hope that it is nothing serious," said Jane, her eyebrows knit.
"You are too kind, Miss Bennet. She is not suffering any more than thousands of other women have before her."
Understanding 'Ohs' surrounded the table. Elizabeth tried to imagine Miss Bingley holding her new niece or nephew, and a vision of the newborn spitting up on her silk dress nearly made her choke on her tea.
"Please give our well-wishes to Mrs. Hurst," said Sophia politely, though her eyes danced in merriment. Was she thinking the same?
"I imagine that Mr. Bingley will want to be in town during the joyful event…" said Elizabeth, careful to keep her eyes fixed on Miss Bingley and away from Jane. She did not want to be too obvious.
Miss Bingley smiled coyly. "My brother has important business keeping him in the north." Leaning into the table, she added in a softer voice, "I suspect it is not so much the business, but rather an individual who has captured his interest and prevented him from returning home." She looked around the table, nodding while she puckered her lips like a trout.
Elizabeth’s nails bit into the lace tablecloth, but one look at Georgiana silenced her. Bloodshed was frowned upon at tea parties.
Sophia looked between Jane and Miss Bingley. "Surely he will not be away much longer. He would never miss such an important event, especially with this being his first niece or nephew."
Georgiana added, "Mr. Bingley will be the kind of uncle every child dreams of having. He simply must return."
Miss Bingley inclined her head and shrugged one shoulder. "The doctor gives us every reason to think that Louisa's confinement will come to its completion in the summer months. Charles has plenty of time to attend to his affairs and return home in time."
Jane raised her head and took a sip of tea. Looking straight at Miss Bingley, she said, "Whatever his plans, I am certain that I speak for everyone here when I say that his presence will be a welcome sight. Please give our regards to your sister. We will send a brew of tea from our housekeeper which will help alleviate Mrs. Hursts' nerves during her confinement."