Page 48 of Mr. Darcy's Christmas Letters
“Indeed,” Miss Bingley replied flatly. “It shall be quite comfortable, I expect.”
“And Mr. Darcy, when do you and Elizabeth plan to travel to town?”
“Sometime after the first of the year, Mrs. Bennet,” he said, grateful for an inquiry that was simple to answer. “My aunt and uncle wish to meet Elizabeth before the season begins.”
The letter from his uncle had been surprisingly sanguine. It might have had something to do with the viscount’s newly announced engagement. Darcy was grateful.
“Your uncle and aunt, the earl and countess?” Mrs. Bennet asked, raising her voice just a touch.
Elizabeth sighed beside him, but Darcy would not deny her mother a chance to boast a little. He was sympathetic to her having lost her youngest daughter to a man that did not deserve her, and still felt some guilt attached to that entire affair.
“Yes, madam,” he replied. “They have heard much to Elizabeth’s benefit from my cousin, the Honourable Colonel Fitzwilliam, and my sister, Miss Darcy, whom Elizabeth met when she and the Gardiners were in Lambton over the summer.”
Mrs. Bennet could not have been any happier to have him elucidate the connection. She accepted the congratulations of the neighbours seated to either side of her and smiled at Elizabeth as though she had always been her mother’s favourite and not her father’s.
Elizabeth squeezed his hand. “You are becoming a bit obsequious, Mr. Darcy,” she whispered to him. “Whatever will you say to my mother next? Will you compliment her for the glazing on the windows or the exquisite fireplace, which I can assure you did not cost eight-hundred pounds?”
“What are you on about, wife?” he muttered back.
“If you had ever heard Mr. Collins waxing rhapsodic about Rosings, you would not ask.”
“Are you comparing me to your cousin?”
“I would never.”
“I should certainly hope not.”
“Although you do share something in common.”
“I am afraid to inquire.”
“Perhaps you are wise.”
Did she truly intend to keep it from him? He narrowed his eyes at her, and she lifted a hand to pat his cheek.
“You both proposed to me,” she informed him.
That malodorous, bad-mannered popinjay had proposed? TohisElizabeth? Collins had been married to Miss Lucas by April, which meant that Collins had proposed before Darcy. Further, that meant that when Elizabeth said Darcy was the last man she should ever marry . . . thelastman?
He stood, using their linked hands to lift her to her feet in a graceful twirl. Elizabeth was surprised, but did not protest, only watched him curiously as he pulled her out of the dining room and into the hall, where he positioned her under the archway that led back to the drawing room.
“Your smile is rather roguish, Mr. Darcy,” she said breathlessly.
“Did Mr. Collins ever kiss you, Elizabeth?” he asked, reaching one long arm above his head and was pleased to see her grimace.
He saw the moment she realised what he was about, for she held out her hand for the white berry he plucked from the mistletoe hanging above. Darcy placed it very gently in her palm and her fingers curled around it.
“If Mr. Collins had ever made the attempt,” she said in a low, throaty voice that made Darcy wish to call the carriage and make for Netherfield instantly, “I would have slapped him.”
“Then my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth,” he nearly growled, “he and I have nothing in common. Not anymore.” He took her lips in his own and felt her melt against him. “Do not you agree?”
Elizabeth’s eyes were glazed. “What?” she asked.
Darcy smiled. “You were telling me that I am the only man you have ever loved.”
“And the only man I ever will,” Elizabeth said, most agreeably.
“Happy Christmas, love,” he said, and leaned down to capture her lips again.
