Page 35 of Mr. Darcy's Christmas Letters
“Whatever for?” he inquired.
“I find I must revenge myself.”
He chuckled. She was indomitable. On the other hand, Miss Bingley’s complexion nearly matched the snow, and she was scurrying backward. She did not stop until she was a dozen feet away. “I was entering into the game you were already playing, Miss Bennet,” she said, suddenly prim and ladylike. “But I only came to tell Mr. Darcy that breakfast is ready.”
“You did not intend to summonmeto breakfast?“ Elizabeth teased. “That seems rather unfair.” She took the bucket he held out and dragged it through a small snowdrift, then lifted the larger snowball she had been making and dumped it in as well.
Miss Bingley came as close to running as Darcy had ever seen as she beat a hasty retreat. She did not leave them alone even then, though, for she stopped near the gardener’s shed at the top of the path. That must have been where she found the pail.
“Miss Bennet,” he said, “as amusing as this all was—“
“Particularly the last bit,” she prodded.
“Particularly the last bit,” he agreed, “you are now soaked again.”
“At least this time we can agree it was Miss Bingley’s fault,” she said with a laugh.
He shook his head. “You will tease me about falling in the pond forever, even though it was your own fault?”
“It was not!” she replied, but her shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. “I refuse to admit it!”
“Regardless,” he said, shaking his head at her, “we must get you inside. Unless you wish me to carry you a second time.” He held out his arms, knowing she would refuse, and he was right.
“Do not you dare!” she warned him as she walked, rather quickly, in Miss Bingley’s tracks.
Chapter Thirteen
ElizabethshiveredasKerrassisted her into a new gown and handed her a thick wool shawl.
“I do not know how you manage it, Miss Bennet,” the maid said, amused. “I do not think you ought to walk out of doors again until the spring.”
“I quite agree,” Jane said as she entered the room. “I understand you were on the losing end of a snowball battle with Mr. Darcy? Really, Lizzy,” she said with a gentle laugh, “how old are you?”
“I was winning,” Elizabeth explained. “But Miss Bingley snuck up on me from behind.”
“Then you were not winning,” Jane said, shaking her head. “Defeated by Caroline. A sad conclusion to your winter antics. How did you even know Mr. Darcy would be there?”
“I did not know,” Elizabeth told her sister, “but I could not pass up the opportunity.”
Jane and Kerr shook their heads together this time, but Elizabeth could see that they were entertained by her rather than annoyed.
“Begging your pardon, Mrs. Bingley, Miss Bennet, but Miss Bingley was asking about Mr. Darcy’s whereabouts this morning—and yours too, Miss Bennet. She was out of doors in search of you both, I imagine. Maybe she planned to toss herself in the pond too, so Mr. Darcy would have to carryherinside.”
“You realize, of course, that you have Mr. Darcy concerned about you again?”
“He really is too serious,” Elizabeth said. “He shall go grey by the time he is thirty.” She pulled the shawl around her shoulders. It was a favourite of hers, another gift from her aunt who knew all about Elizabeth’s fondness for wintery strolls. “I suppose I shall have to make an appearance at breakfast to assuage his fears.”
“I think that would be best. Are you warm enough?”
“Yes, dear sister of mine, I am quite warm.”
The exercise in the cold air had done Elizabeth good, but she wished she had stopped to speak with Mr. Darcybeforegiving into the temptation to knock his hat from his head. But who could have predicted that Miss Bingley, of all people, would suddenly decide to take a walk in the snow?
Darcy heard Mrs. Bingley and Elizabeth chatting pleasantly as they approached the breakfast room, and he stood as they stepped inside.
“Thank you for our battle royale, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said, her fine eyes sparkling with unrepressed mirth. “It was the most fun I have had since—”
“Last winter,” Jane finished for her. “When you ambushed Lydia.”
