“Well, do educate me, madam. I await your shocking opinions on poetry and Christmas ornaments.”
Expecting to see a look of censure or amusement in his eyes, Elizabeth was shocked to see something that hovered between wonder and fondness. She immediately busied herself at the bush again.
“Clearly the white flower represents Mary the Virgin. The red berry symbolises Christ’s blood spilled for sinners. The thorns are like the crown He wore at the crucifixion. The toxic properties reference His death.”
“Indeed, I agree with the religious symbolism, but when you spoke of poetry, I had expected something else. You really do not believe poetry is the food of love then,” he said, sounding a trifle disappointed.
She ceased her cutting and looked at him in confusion. “You would compare holly with love?” she asked.
“It often begins in innocence, even out of pure motives, like this flower.”
Again, he flicked one, and Elizabeth’s eyes darted to the graceful movement. “But then there are thorns,” she rationalised.
“Does it not wound?” Darcy’s voice grew softer.
“Surely not everyone is wounded in love,” she suggested.
“Just as not everyone is wounded reaching for holly. Some come prepared.” He pointed to her gloved hands. “A man’s heart will bleed for his beloved, though.”
Elizabeth’s cheeks flushed, although she knew not why. It was shocking to hear such intimate words spoken by a man she had always thought of as cold and unfeeling. And yet there was another time she heard him speak in such a way. When he praised her and Miss Bingley’s figures as they walked before the fire at Netherfield. Elizabeth noted that she did not need a fire at the moment to feel warm.
“And love can grow sour and poison just as holly does?” she asked, feeling the need to say something.
Darcy shook his head, and a curl fell across his brow. Elizabeth’s hand tingled in a desire to brush it back for him.
“Many animals eat it without harm,” he said.
“Ah, but I thought love elevated one to a heavenly plane,” she suggested. Was it her imagination or had Mr. Darcy come closer?
“Lovers rely on primal instinct like beasts. A man in love loses his sense of intelligence and logic.”
When had his eyes become so blue and intense? Why did she not look away? Every inch of Elizabeth felt afire as she asked her next question. “And the red berry?” She held her breath awaiting his answer.
Darcy held her gaze as her heart beat rapidly in her chest. She had tilted her head back to look at him better.
“A lover’s kiss.”
His voice was husky, and immediately her eyes dropped to his mouth. When she returned them to his, she saw that he watched her intently as though asking an unsaid question.
A nearby rustle disturbed the moment, and they both turned to see another deer running off. Elizabeth immediately blushed and looked at her hands.
Darcy cleared his throat. “The song you were singing earlier was the same one you performed at Sir William Lucas’s, was it not?”
Elizabeth nearly dropped her shears at the abrupt change of topic. Although grateful, she answered guardedly, expecting his criticism. “Yes.”
“It suits you,” he said and then touched the ivy crown she had forgotten she wore. “We are in an ash grove.” He gestured to a nearby tree.
Indeed, she had taken the ivy from an ash tree, but she was astounded that he had recalled the song she sang weeks ago. All the while, she had been convinced he was finding fault with her performance. To cover her embarrassment at her childish display, she jested. “I hope that particular song does not suit me as it ends rather sadly. Besides, I have no beau who would mourn my death.”
“Another line of the song is relevant.” Darcy frowned and looked beyond her at the horizon. Allow me to escort you home.”
Surprised at the light quickly fading, she had little choice but to take his arm. A minute or two down the path and they came upon his mount tied off. As she refused to ride, he led it by the reins. Although small talk with Mr. Darcy was always strained, they managed a conversation about his sister without any disputes.
“Do come inside and refresh yourself,” Elizabeth said as they approached Longbourn. She had missed dinner, and she guessed he had as well. “My aunt and uncle are here from London, and we had guests for dinner. Tea and coffee should be out by now.”
“Thank you,” he said as he handed the reins to a stable hand.
Elizabeth thought he seemed suddenly more formal and rigid than he had in the woods. She should hardly expect any different. He never made it a secret how much he disliked her family. Adding the presence of relatives from trade who resided near Cheapside would be an insult his pride could hardly contain. “Your secret will be safe with me,” she said coldly.
“My secret?” He sounded alarmed.
“I will not tell Miss Bingley, should I ever meet her again, that you were in the company of a tradesman from London and your steward’s son.”
Immediately, he rounded on her. “Mr. Wickham is inside?”
“Yes, he has become quite a friend to our family in recent weeks with the absence of others.”
How had she forgotten her anger with Darcy about his treatment of Wickham? A flicker of memory in Jane’s voice flashed through her mind. “Do not pretend your fascination with Mr. Wickham is about anything other than your displeasure with Mr. Darcy,” Jane said with a frown. But of course, Jane had never said that. She never said anything unpleasant.
Darcy turned white and seemed to force himself to speak civilly. “I see you did not heed my warning about Mr. Wickham’s inability to keep friends,” he said with a growl.
Elizabeth gaped and then spoke in a harsh whisper lest she scream. “He has remained a more constant friend than you or Mr. Bingley have!”
Darcy looked as though her words lashed him. When he spoke, the scathing coldness caused a shiver to crawl up her spine. “You have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your feelings and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been.”
He paused and brought a tightly clenched hand, the same wrapped in a handkerchief from earlier in the evening, to his mouth. Taking a deep breath, he released the hand and expelled the air in one motion. Straightening his shoulders, he stiffly bent for a bow. “Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness.”
He hastily turned from her side, and Elizabeth’s notice was drawn to the sound of the front door opening.
“There you are, Elizabeth,” Mrs. Gardiner said. “I wondered what kept you so long. It is nearly seven and quite dark.”
“I am sorry,” Elizabeth said and held up her basket of holly and ivy as an explanation.
“Who is that gentleman leaving? Why did he not come inside? And did I hear you speak of Mr. Wickham?”
Elizabeth sighed. “Oh, Aunt. I think I am too exhausted for those questions.” She attempted to move past the other woman and enter the house, but her aunt forestalled her.
“I had wanted to speak to you about Mr. Wickham. He told me about how he was denied a very prosperous living. I was sorry to hear it. I knew the gentleman in question’s father by character perfectly. But you must see how imprudent a match with him would be.”
Mrs. Gardiner whispered so they would not be overheard, and Elizabeth knew the woman offered the words truly out of consideration for Elizabeth’s happiness. Still, after everything that had happened that evening, she could not help but speak with a tone of imprudence, especially as she would have sworn they already had this conversation.
“All I see—”
The chiming of the clock in the hall interrupted her speech. By the time it struck seven, Elizabeth gripped her aunt for support.
O Come All Ye Faithful
Netherfield
December 23, 1811
Bingley smiled as he headed towards his stables. He had just arrived at Netherfield
but overheard a maid whisper to the housekeeper that the eldest Miss Bennet would be overjoyed to learn of his return. It was all the proof he needed to feel alive with hope that Jane Bennet returned his affections.
Anticipating the arguments of Darcy and not wishing for the competition of Richard, or having to rescue him from over-attention, Bingley chose to visit Longbourn on his own. He puffed out his chest in pride. Yes, it felt good to make decisions independently. He had relied far too heavily on Caroline’s and Darcy’s advice for years now. He desired to marry Jane Bennet, and what was to stop him but the arguments of his friends? The greatest of which had been her indifference to him, but rumour had it that she was quite in love with him.
For the first two miles of the journey from Netherfield to Longbourn, hope and satisfaction filled Bingley’s heart. Belatedly, his mind began to wonder how Jane felt about his sudden disappearance and unexpected return. Would she believe he was inconstant? How could he convince her of his faithfulness?
A dozen folk tunes about love and fidelity flitted through his mind. Bingley pulled out his pocket watch. He would arrive at Longbourn shortly before seven. If they had music after dinner, then he would insist on singing. Jane would not be left in doubt of his adoration any longer!
Finally, he reached Longbourn and called upon all his courage as he was shown to the drawing room. A glance around the place showed there were several officers, the Lucas family, and a fashionable man and woman he did not know.
“Mr. Bingley!”
Mrs. Bennet’s shrill voice reached his ears just as his eyes found Jane. She had blushed upon seeing him and now stared at her hands. Why would she not look at him?
Mrs. Bennet bounced off her seat and came to his side so fast that she had to catch her breath. “Well, Mr. Bingley, you are too late for dinner, but please join us for coffee and tea. Stay for supper if you can.”
“I—”
“I have not forgotten your promise to come for a family dinner. My brother and sister-in-law from London are with us now but leave after Christmas. You must come then.” Dragging him by the arm to a seat, she rambled on. “Of course, please come before then as well. You are as welcome here as at your home.”
She paused and looked around the room. “And you arrived alone? Your sisters are not with you? Then I insist you come as often as you can. A house is nothing without a woman to keep it, as my Jane knows.”
Mrs. Bennet gently pushed him on the shoulder, and Bingley landed on a cushion next to Jane.
“Mama, please,” she said in an urgent whisper.
“Perhaps a walk in the garden would be refreshing,” Miss Elizabeth said from the other side of Jane.
Bingley immediately stood up again. What had he been thinking coming directly here with no plan?
“Oh yes!” Jane’s youngest two sisters whom Bingley could never differentiate between shot out of their seats.
“No, you should remain here.” Mrs. Bennet shook her finger at her second daughter. “I will not have Jane catching a cold by walking about in December! She complained of a headache only earlier today!”
“The room feels too warm to me,” Miss Lucas said as she approached them. “I would welcome a respite, and we would be well looked after.”
“Yes, surely there is nothing inappropriate about a walk in the garden with such good family friends,” Bingley said while searching Jane’s face.
“Let them go,” Mr. Bennet said from a corner where he played a game with several gentlemen.
Mrs. Bennet capitulated, and the young people left the room to gather their outerwear. Bingley extended his arm to Jane, who blushed but took it. A feeling of rightness permeated his heart. To Bingley’s surprise, it did not feel like a new sensation. It was as though he had experienced this very scenario previously, and yet he had never walked with Jane in Longbourn’s garden in the evening before.
“Mr. Bingley,” Miss Elizabeth said with a smile that did not meet her eyes. “We are pleased to see you again. We had heard from your sister that you never meant to return to Hertfordshire.” She then wandered off, seemingly very curious about a hedge.
Shame filled Bingley. “I am exceedingly sorry if my sister’s mistaken impression that I would not return to Netherfield caused you any distress, Miss Bennet.”
Jane gave him a small smile. “Certainly not. A gentleman may come and go as he pleases.”
Did he imagine it, or did her voice tremble? “A gentleman keeps his word.” Jane shuddered next to him, and he pulled her closer. “Are you getting cold?”
Jane whispered something while looking at her feet.
“Pardon, I could not hear you. Perhaps we ought to return inside.”
Jane slowly raised her head and met his eyes. Tears glimmered there. “No, I am not cold and do not wish to go inside.”
Bingley took in a deep breath, filling his lungs to capacity and feeling as though he could breathe again at last. Jane’s subtle rose-water scent was an innocent but heady aphrodisiac.
“Jane! Lizzy! We’re cold!” the taller of the young ladies called from the door where three of them were huddled.
“Mary says it is nearly seven o’clock and to hurry. I’m famished,” called the other one.
Something about the statement made Bingley’s heart race. Nearly seven o’clock. Hurry. Why? He shook his head to dispel the disjointed thoughts. The feeling as though he had lived this before still filled him, making his tongue feel thick and unnatural. He led Jane to the door.
“I will call again in a few days,” he managed to say as he helped Jane out of her pelisse.
The clock struck seven, and as he heard the bells chime, a strange sensation passed over him. He felt as though he had just been knocked over with a feather. Nearly seven o’clock. Hurry, echoed in his mind.
Joy to the World
Longbourn
December 23, 1811
“Oh, good gracious!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed from a window. “Oh, my goodness! I shall faint! It’s a Christmas miracle!”
Jane hastened to her mother’s side. “Mama, what is wrong?”
Mrs. Bennet brought a fluttering hand to her chest. “Mr. Bingley has returned!”
“Mr. Bingley?” Most of the room echoed at once, then looked at Jane, causing her to blush. There was a mad dash to the window as her sisters and several guests endeavoured to peek outside.
“Mr. Darcy is with him,” groaned Elizabeth. “Who is that other gentleman? He looks familiar.”
“Allow me.” Mr. Wickham peered out the window.
“Well?” Mrs. Bennet asked.
Jane had cast her eyes down and gripped her hands but could hear her mother panting in excitement.
“That is Mr. Darcy’s cousin, a colonel in His Majesty’s Army and the younger son of Earl Fitzwilliam.”
“The son of an earl!” Mrs. Bennet erupted so loudly that Jane jumped. “What joy!”
“Perhaps we had better leave,” Wickham said to his fellow officers.
“You are not going because of Darcy?” Elizabeth said.
“I think it would be better.”
Elizabeth became uncharacteristically quiet, and Jane would have worried more about it if the officers had not followed Wickham to her father’s study. Were they going to hide in there until Bingley and the others were in the drawing room and then sneak out of the house? What ridiculousness!
Mrs. Hill appeared, holding back a smile, and announced Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Miss Darcy. No one had mentioned her arrival. Jane’s heart hammered in her chest. Bingley’s sister had said he would marry this young lady.
Jane ought to hate her, but a glimmer of hope welled inside her. Why would Mr. Bingley return to Netherfield just to show off his betrothed? Why did his sisters not visit with him? Could it be that Elizabeth was correct and Bingley did love her? Jane’s eyes followed Miss Darcy as she dragged her brother to Elizabeth’s side.
“My sisters elected to stay in London,” Mr. Bingley said.<
br />
Jane blinked. Had someone asked him a question? Was he speaking to her or the entire room? While busy watching Miss Darcy, he had sat next to her.
“Oh! I love London! It must have been very difficult to tear you away from it,” Mrs. Bennet said. “But I see Hertfordshire has its draw.” She gave a significant nod to Jane.
Heat slapped Jane’s cheeks, but still her mother talked on without allowing anyone else to speak.
“My brother and sister are from London. You will not meet with a finer merchant or a finer gentleman. Although they are not as lofty as some,” here she sent a scathing look to Mr. Darcy, who sat next to Elizabeth and the very couple in question,“would like.”
“Mama, can we go for a walk in the garden?” Lydia interrupted her mother.
“Well, certainly, but Mr. Bingley will want to stay…”
“I would love nothing more, madam.”
“But I do not think it appropriate for an earl’s son…”
“There can be nothing inappropriate about walking with such a good friend of the family.” Mr. Bingley’s eyes locked on Jane’s and felt like a caress.
Jane’s heart soared as Miss Darcy was absolutely forgotten. As they gathered in the hall to put on their outerwear, Jane noticed Mary hugging a book to her chest.
“Mary, dear, I think it might be too dark to read outside,” she said gently.
“That’s not a book. It’s her diary,” Lydia giggled. “She has been taking it with her everywhere and scribbling in it. She must have a secret beau!”
“Jane, I must speak with you,” Mary said while ignoring their youngest sister, but Bingley approached. Mary thrust the diary open to its last page. “What do you see?”
“Just the date. December twenty-third.”
“Yes, but look! I am out of pages! There are enough sheets for one page per day of the year in this diary.”
Jane furrowed her brow. “You must be mistaken.”
“No! See!”
Mr Darcy's Miracle at Longbourn Page 5
