But today, although Mary was wearing her same plain, lavender gown from the night before, she had carefully done her hair. It was brushed and neat, and her lips shone as if she had stolen some lip salve from Kitty. Elizabeth just had time to wonder at this, when Mary cleared her throat and leaned over the table.
Toward Mr. Collins.
Oh no, it cannot be, Elizabeth thought.
“Mr. Collins, what a shame it is that you do not have your books with you. I was greatly hoping you would read more of Fordyce’s Sermons to us.”
Lydia glared at Mary, and from the jerking of her body, Elizabeth knew Lydia was trying to kick Mary’s shins under the table. She missed and Kitty yelped with outrage and surprise. Mr. Collins saw none of this, but did look up gleefully at the mention of him trying to better the mind and souls of his lowly female cousins.
“I find your remarks commendable. How little young ladies today are interested by books of a serious stamp, though written solely for their benefit. It amazes me, I confess, for certainly there can be nothing so advantageous to them as instruction.”
Lydia finally found her mark and Mary grunted in pain. But Mary forced a smile across her face and said, “I hear Netherfield has an expansive library. Perhaps Mr. Bingley will be kind enough to give us a tour after breakfast.”
“Library, you say?” Mr. Bingley heard his name at the other end of the table. “Why, we do have a library. I must admit, I haven’t spent much time in it, as of yet.” He glanced sheepishly at Jane. “Only because I’ve been busy with the ball, you see. And touring the estate. I do love to read! Though I don’t read often, but there are so many other grand things to do in the country, aren’t there?”
The more Mr. Bingley spoke, the more his pale skin turned pink and then pinker. Jane laughed prettily, and Elizabeth could tell that she thought everything Mr. Bingley said was sweet and kind.
Caroline was not as impressed, however. “So many things to do in the country? Please do elaborate.”
Mrs. Hurst laughed and took a delicate sip of tea. “Well, I always love a picnic.”
“But a picnic today would be rather cold,” Caroline said.
“Well, we could tour the library?” Mr. Bingley said, still staring only at Jane. “And then perhaps play some cards?”
“I do love whist,” Jane said agreeably. “And books.”
Lydia and Kitty grumbled quietly, murmuring about “dancing” and the lack of any fine partners. Mary brightened at the mention of the library, turning to see if Mr. Collins was as excited as she. Elizabeth was simply happy that everyone was ignoring her, and Mr. Darcy was nowhere to be seen. As long as he was not nearby, to distract her with his burning blue eyes and surprising kindnesses, she could return to her normal view of the world.
“Ah, it’s settled, then!” Mr. Bingley cried. “After breakfast, we’ll take a tour of the ground floor. I’d take you all outdoors, but for the weather. I wish you could see it; there’s a lovely folly down near the lake. I was just touring it with Mr. McCaffrey, my steward, last week. I say, isn’t it capital to say ‘My steward’?” He smiled brightly at Jane. “I think there might be a horse-drawn sledding carriage somewhere on the estate. Perhaps later we could find it and take a tour of the grounds? It’s just so splendid to be in such a lovely neighborhood, even when it’s covered with snow. My father always wanted a family seat, you see. I do wish he could see us now…and meet you.”
Jane pressed her hand against her heart, and the two young lovers stared dreamily into each other’s eyes. Elizabeth for all the world wished the rest of the group could sneak out the doors right now, and not disturb them.
But Caroline snapped, “Charles! Please do not get distracted. We must tell our guests what the plans for the day shall be.”
“Ah, yes. Well, it’s a pity there’s so much snow. You know what else is lovely for outdoors? Rounders! But we can’t play rounders today, can we? I do love rounders. I say, we could set them up in the ballroom?”
“And break a window within five minutes,” Caroline said.
“What about nine pins?” Lydia offered. “You can’t break a window while playing lawn bowling. At least, it’s not very likely.”
“Oh yes!” Kitty said, “Nine pins would be lovely!” Mrs. Bennet applauded the idea verbally and with her hands, and Mr. Bennet sighed and met Elizabeth’s glance with a helpless shrug.
“And the library?” Mary said quietly, earning her a nod from Mr. Collins. She beamed like the sun had shone on her.
Caroline made a moue of distaste, and Mrs. Hurst proclaimed that she found the library drafty and overly full of old books.
“Yes, you’re correct, I suppose. Perhaps we should only tour the east wing,” Mr. Bingley said glumly. Then he brightened suddenly, exclaiming, “Ah yes! I just remembered. Darcy’s working in the library. It’s best we don’t go there right now, as we might disturb him.”
“Oh, I never said we shouldn’t tour it,” Caroline quickly said. “Of course, as my sister points out, it is full of books—but is that not the very point? We should at least stop by so that M-M-Madge may see the room.”
“Mary,” Elizabeth said politely but firmly.
“Capital!” Mr. Bingley proclaimed, standing and offering an arm to Jane. “Though poor Darcy will be vexed. He said he had correspondence to attend to, and I told him he would not be bothered at all in the library. Ah well, let us go distract him!”
Darcy
Outside, the wind blew the heavy snow up and against the long library windows. Darcy shifted in the comfortable leather chair that was set in front of the fireplace. If he were home at Pemberley, today would be one of his favorite sort of days. It would be close to Christmas, and he and Georgiana would be together. His younger sister would be testing her skills at decorating, the cooks would be stirring the puddings, his dear friend and cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam would visit before returning to his parents’ estate for Christmas…
And Darcy could take a moment to simply rest in the library, his favorite room. His library at Pemberley was twice as large as Netherfield’s, not that he would ever point out such a fact to Charles. And not that Bingley would care. After perusing the shelves—all covered by a layer of fine dust—Darcy was reasonably certain that not one of the Bingleys had ever spent more than ten seconds in this room, and that was only if they’d wandered in here by accident.
Therefore, it was perfect.
He’d written to Georgiana and Fitzwilliam this morning, as well as his Aunt Catherine and his steward. He’d also drafted a letter about the purchase of a new type of fertilizer, though by that point his hand ached and his mind could no longer follow a coherent train of thought…
All because of her.
Elizabeth Bennet was in this house. He’d thought of her, as he drank brandy with Bingley until five in the morning. He’d thought of her, when he finally went to his cold bed in his empty chambers. He’d turned and rolled and been unable to sleep, wondering what room she was in. Wondering what she thought of him.
He’d woken up too early, wondering where she was.
And he’d eaten before any of the other guests in the house were awake, alone in the cold dining room, with only a yawning footman running to and from the kitchens to get him tea and an egg. He’d told himself it was because he had an estate to run, but truly, if he were being honest—he was being a coward. He was avoiding her.
Darcy groaned and ran his hands over his face.
And that’s when he heard the noise. Like a rumble of distant thunder, there was some sort of chaotic sound outside the room. And then it grew closer, and louder, and slowly distinguished itself as voices. Many, many voices. It sounded as if everyone in the house were tromping down the halls of Netherfield together.
And—Darcy sat up straight, groaning—headed directly toward him.
The library doors flew open and Bingley stood there, grinning and shouting his name. “There you are, Darcy. I hope we are not disturbing you!”
Bingley ushered Jane Bennet and her parents into the library first. Caroline and Louisa were close behind, sighing and trying not to stand close to the younger Bennet girls, who were perpetually giggling. The clergyman in black came next, trailed by the serious-looking daughter and…
“Miss Elizabeth.”
Like a fool, he uttered her name first as he stood up. Thankfully, in the moment it took Darcy to stand and stutter like a lovesick cad, Bingley had already begun a tour of the room. The bulk of the people had followed him into the far corner—Bingley was describing the poetry section as the “horticulture end”—and so Miss Elizabeth was, in fact, relatively close to him as he stood and blurted out her name.
Dear God, pull yourself together, man.
“Mr. Darcy,” Miss Elizabeth said, bowing her head and coming to stand next to the fire.
Darcy hung his head for just a moment, before recovering himself. She wore a gown of the deepest green, and it served somehow to make her appear more alive and yet more otherworldly, all at once.
She might as well be a mythical forest creature, he reprimanded himself. For if you try to touch her, she will most assuredly disappear before your eyes…
Or, if you actually touch her, she’ll be forced to become your wife, a devious voice added. He was disturbed at not-horrifying that prospect appeared.
“Are you well, Sir?” Miss Elizabeth said, cocking her head in concern. “You look…flushed.”
“Yes, thank you. I was simply sitting too close to the fire.”
She nodded as if this were a normal, everyday occurrence and looked around the room. “It is a very grand library. It puts my father’s collection of books to shame, I must admit. If my father had his way, he would also pull up a chair too close to the fire, and hide—excuse me, study—the day away.”
Darcy felt a smile tug at his lips. “Are you accusing me of hiding, Miss Elizabeth?”
“I accused you of nothing, Mr. Darcy. But perhaps you have a guilty conscience, and it warps my simple observation into a personal accusation?”
Guilty, indeed.
She leaned closer and whispered. “But perhaps you are guilty? And then I know your secret?”
He cleared his throat, frozen. Had she seen him surreptitiously studying her? Did he know that he could not stop his eyes from swiftly traveling to the swell of her breasts, where her milk-white skin strained against the green velvet fabric? He had hoped that his transgression was swift enough—and the lady innocent enough—that she had not noticed his wandering eyes.
But had she seen him? And did she take his—his abhorrent obsession with her beauty—in such stride? Was she teasing him?
“My secret?” Darcy said, frozen beside the raging fire.
“Well, not really a secret. You told me yourself last night that you do not converse easily with those whom you do not know.”
Relief flooded through him and he took a deep breath. But even that was a mistake, for her clean, floral scent flooded his senses.
“Though, you do know Mr. Bingley and his sisters,” she continued. “So I can only assume it is not trepidation of small talk that makes you hide here.”
“No?” Mr. Darcy shifted. She watched him, a small smile playing at her lips. “Then why am I ‘hiding’ here, Miss Elizabeth?”
“Nine pins,” she said simply. “You have heard that they are setting up nine pins in the ballroom, and you do not want it discovered that you have dreadful aim.”
She smiled then, as if pleased with her silly joke—and with playing at insulting him. It was such a pretty, bright, easy smile that he could not help but smile back. This, however, seemed to shock her; as soon as their eyes met and they grinned at each other, she suddenly faltered and seemed to fall back into herself.
He didn’t want that to happen. He wanted her smiles back. He liked them. He liked earning them.
But before he could attempt to coach another of those fascinating, bright grins from her, Bingley finished his tour and came to stand with them by the fireplace. “Darcy! Has Miss Elizabeth told you? We’re bringing the outdoors game indoors. Nine pins in the ballroom! You will play, won’t you?”
“Miss Elizabeth fears for my reputation, as she assumes I have no skills in that arena,” Darcy said.
“No skills!” Bingley said as if shocked. Then he frowned and rubbed his head. “Well, I must admit, I’ve never seen you play such a game, not even at school. Can it be true, then?”
Darcy smiled. “There’s only one way to find out.”
Caroline joined the group and came to stand by Darcy’s side. She smiled up at him, as if she and he shared a personal relationship. Darcy stiffened, wondering if Miss Elizabeth would notice Caroline’s subtle cues that she knew him more than any other woman in the world.
Darcy watched Elizabeth out of the corner of his eye, even as he tried to pay attention to Bingley setting out the rules of the game. Elizabeth stiffened as Caroline moved even closer, the sleeve of her dress brushing against Darcy’s coat. Darcy could not deny the slight, foolish thrill that ran up his spine: Elizabeth had noticed. And she did not seem pleased.
Did this mean—did this mean there was a chance she might care if another woman was vying for his attention?
When Darcy had spent time with the Bingleys in London, he had witnessed Caroline attempt to artfully capture quite a few young gentlemen’s affections. He’d heard her crow to her sister on the days after balls, that this Sir or that Earl’s second son had said this or that. She always made sure that Darcy was in the room when she relayed these stories. For the first time, Darcy understood the impulse.
But, he was not a flirt. He was not a play actor.
He was a Darcy.
And he did not play games—even when faced with nine pins.
He went after what he wanted.
But…did he want…Elizabeth? What, exactly, was he playing at?
“Are there teams?” Kitty asked. “Lydia and I are always on the same team.”
“If we don’t have teams,” Caroline said, “These games might take forever.” It was clear that she was not amused at the prospect of lawn games indoors, though Darcy could see that she would not enjoy any amusements with the Bennets.
“Yes, let us play on teams. Each person may take turns tossing the balls.” Bingley turned and bowed to Jane. “Miss Bennet, would you do me the honor of being my partner?”
Jane blushed prettily. “I’m afraid I’ve no aim, Mr. Bingley. Are you sure you would not wish to choose a more skilled partner?”
It was Bingley’s turn to blush, and Darcy knew what the man was thinking, even if the elder Miss Bennet did not. “I—I would have no one else, Miss Bennet.”
“I shall remain here,” Mr. Bennett announced. “If Mr. Bingley shall allow me use of his library.”
“Of course, Sir, of course!” Bingley agreed eagerly.
But Mrs. Bennet was not pleased. “Then who shall be my partner?” she cried. She turned eagerly to Mr. Collins, but the young man ignored her and addressed the room, instead.
“I fear this game maybe not be ideal. I have heard that lawn bowling is commonly associated with drinking and gambling, activities that a man of my caliber cannot be connected with! They are dreadful vices. Why, what would your illustrious Aunt Catherine say, Mr. Darcy, if she would learn of me, bowling?”
Darcy grit his teeth. “If she saw you bowling? I assume she would bet on one of the other teams.”
Elizabeth surprised him by laughing, and then masking the noise and coughing into her fist. Her younger sisters weren’t as reserved, and they laughed openly before rushing to follow Bingley and Jane out the door.
“But who shall my partner be?” Mrs. Bennet cried. She grabbed her daughter Mary’s arm and began to pull her out the door, though the young woman’s eyes stayed on Mr. Collins as long as possible before she was dragged from the room.
“I will stay here in the library as well,” Mr. Hurst announced. Darcy noted Mr. Bennet rolling his eyes,
but he was sure the elder gentleman would be pleased by Mr. Hurst’s companionship: Mr. Hurst had the ability to fall asleep within three minutes, if food or cards were not nearby.
Caroline turned and smiled brightly up at him. “Mr. Darcy, do you have a partner yet?” She did not wait for him to answer, but addressed Elizabeth. “Miss Elizabeth, I had the privilege to play such a game when my brother and I visited Pemberley this past summer. Mr. Darcy was a most excellent teacher. Why, I could barely throw a ball in a straight line before he assisted me!”
Darcy forced himself not to grimace. Bingley and Caroline had been his guests at Pemberley for a fortnight over the summer, and he had vowed it would be the last time he was the only unmarried man trapped for weeks at a time with Caroline.
“And now you can throw a ball. I’m very happy for you,” Elizabeth said drily.
Caroline sniffed. “I do not make it a practice to play such childish games. But since your sisters have so insisted…”
“You will be an elegant hostess, yes.” Elizabeth bowed slightly. “I believe I will stay here in the library with my father.”
Mr. Collins spoke up, after overhearing her words. “The betterment of the mind, my dear! Excellent choice. I will sit with you and—”
“Actually, I had forgotten,” Elizabeth said, turning away from him. “I am promised as someone’s partner.”
And then Darcy acted—he did not plan out what he would say. He did not repeat it a few times in his mind, to make sure that it was the proper statement at the proper time to the proper people. He took a step toward Elizabeth and said, “Yes. Thank you for agreeing to be my partner, Miss Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth’s brown eyes grew larger and—for once—she had no reply. But she quickly regained her sense of composure and nodded serenely. Darcy could not help but smile; she was all propriety on the outside, but he could see her eyes flashing. He could feel her frustration and confusion and relief, all aimed at him.
Snowbound with Darcy Page 5