Page 16 of Mr. Darcy's Christmas Letters
Darcy stood, set his glass down, and clapped Bingley on the arm. “Thank you, Bingley. You are a good friend to me.” A better friend than he deserved.
Bingley laughed quietly and shook his head. “No thanks necessary, for you are providing me a great deal of entertainment. The great Fitzwilliam Darcy, hiding from a woman.”
Darcy turned away and tossed himself back in the chair by the fire. “You are entirely too smug now that you are wed.”
“I have every right to be smug,” Bingley said cheerfully. “I am married to the most wonderful woman I have ever met, and she loves me. There is no felicity in the world equal to it.”
That hurt. “You should write for the stage.”
Bingley was unperturbed. “Perhaps I shall.” He finished his drink and set the glass down on the tray. His expression crinkled in merriment. “We will be dining at five. That might be a good time for you to sneak back to your chambers.”
Darcy nodded, and Bingley left him to his own company.
“We were unaware that Caroline would be visiting, Lizzy,” Jane said quietly. “I must apologise, but I do not see how we can turn her away. She has only a companion with her, and Mr. Hurst’s home in London will not be open until the end of January.”
“Is there no way to decline delivery?” Elizabeth jested.
Jane shook her head fondly. “I do hope Caroline’s presence will not chase you back to Longbourn.”
Elizabeth scoffed, as Jane must have known she would. “Miss Bingley, frightenmeaway? I think not. Though I will wish to visit Aunt and Uncle Gardiner at Longbourn when they come.”
“I shall visit too, but I will confess that I do wish to have you here with me.”
“Then I shall be,” Elizabeth replied. “And not only because Miss Bingley wants these rooms.”
Jane offered her an affectionate but exasperated look.
Kerr bustled into the room with Elizabeth’s gown draped over her arm but skidded to a stop when she saw Jane. Her cheeks reddened. “Mrs. Bingley, I did not know you were here. I will just step back outside.”
“That is all right, Kerr,” Jane said. She turned to Elizabeth. “I will see you downstairs. I must dress for dinner, for the mistress cannot be outdone by her sisters.”
“It would not matter in the least,” Elizabeth responded. “Your husband has eyes for no one but you, dearest.”
“Then I shall offer him something pleasant to look upon,” Jane said in farewell.
Elizabeth smiled into the glass. It was good, very good, to see Jane so confident and assured. Miss Bingley had no hope of unsettling the mistress ofthishouse.
“Let us get you dressed,” Kerr said, hanging the dress up and examining Elizabeth’s hair. “So many lovely curls.”
In relatively short order, Kerr had completed Elizabeth’s toilette and was helping her into the rose gown.
“It is like a new gown,” Elizabeth said happily, as she touched the narrow line of intricate lace that had been sewn along the neckline of the dress. “Thank you, Kerr. I shall offer you a report of how Miss Bingley responds to my fashionable attire.”
Kerr smiled prettily as she moved about the room collecting items and putting them away. “I would like that, Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth made her way down the stairs and past the library. Her slippers whispered against the marble floors, the sound reminding her of last autumn when she had been here to tend Jane and traversing these halls alone. As she passed Mr. Bingley’s study a tendril of scent—bergamot, oranges, and brandy—wrapped itself around her comfortingly. She wondered whether her new brother wore a similar cologne as his friend. Probably. Another reminder of the man who had long confounded her.
The Bingleys were already waiting.
Her new brother bowed crisply. “My goodness, that is a very pretty gown. Good evening, Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth returned the courtesy and smiled warmly. “I have always wanted a brother, but in my imagination, he has always called me Elizabeth or Lizzy, as Jane does.”
His smile was bright. “Then you must call me Charles, as my other sisters do.” He smiled at her and then at Jane, whose smile was smaller but no less pleased.
“Charles!”
With her back to the entry, Elizabeth flinched, unprepared for the shrillness in Miss Bingley’s cry.
