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Lizzy was not sure which was more amusing: her father’s perpetual cynicism about the duration of the Christmas season, or Mr Darcy’s evident discomfort at the way his polite inquiry had been met. Poor Mr Darcy looks as if he has just discovered he is sitting on a pin! she thought, hiding her laughter behind her cup and forcing herself to take a polite sip of tea as if there were nothing at all the matter.
“I see. Do you celebrate every night?” Mr Darcy asked, with a politeness that was not, Elizabeth wagered, without effort. He glanced around the room. “I must compliment you on your decorations, Mrs Bennet.”
Elizabeth exchanged a glance with Jane, as Mrs Bennet blossomed under this perfunctory compliment. She launched into a detailed description of her design aspirations and did not appear to notice that her enthusiasm was not matched by their guest. It was not until Mr Bennet harrumphed pointedly in her direction that his wife paused for breath, and the conversation was permitted to move in a different direction.
“It is a quieter season this year than most,” Mr Bennet acknowledged. “This wretched snow keeps everyone indoors.” He grinned, saluting the room with his teacup. “For which we rejoice. There have been no visitors, save yourself, of course. No guests, no parties to attend and only a modicum of feasting.” He took a sip of tea, returned his cup to its saucer and patted his ample middle. “Would that every social season could be got through so efficiently!”
“Oh, Mr Bennet!” Lizzy’s mother eyed her husband with a reproachful smile. “You do tease us! Yes, you do. Mr Darcy, I am sure you understand how disappointing it is for us to have lost so many opportunities to socialise and be amongst friends. Why, your Netherfield ball was the last opportunity my girls had to dance and be merry. It is a pity!”
“That was but a few weeks ago, Mama,” Lizzy reminded her, reaching into Jane’s work-basket and winding a loose ball of wool tighter. “You make it sound as if we are incapable of making our own amusements.”
“And what do you find to occupy your time, Miss Elizabeth?”
The question came so innocently that Lizzy was not sure which of them was more surprised. Herself, to hear it, or Mr Darcy, to ask it.
“Shovelling snow,” she answered, smiling sweetly.
Lydia snorted and sought to thrust herself back into the conversation.
“And forcing your sisters to help you!” She turned a simpering smile on their guest. “Mr Darcy, you cannot imagine how grateful we are to you for completing the task on our behalf. Truly you must be an angel sent from heaven to help us.”
Mr Darcy had been taking a sip of his tea at the moment that this effusive complement was directed towards him and he started, chocking furiously on the mouthful. Lydia giggled, which seemed to make poor Mr Darcy’s discomfort all the worse, and at last, he succeeded in swallowing and gulped in a couple of heavy breaths.
“You are too kind, Miss Lydia,” he said, at last, his voice hoarse from coughing. “I am but a mere mortal, but as a gentleman, it was the least I could do.” He nodded, deferentially. “Indeed, I found myself kept here by the weather far longer than I intended. I fear it will be some days yet before I can make my planned return to London.”
“You are here alone?” Mrs Bennet asked, with a sly glance towards Jane that must not have gone unnoticed. Lizzy fixed her eyes on Mr Darcy and was rewarded to see him resist making the same connection. His gaze was fixed on the ground at his feet.
“Yes, alone. Alas, I fear the staff had hoped for a quiet Christmas with no residents to look after, and I spoiled their plans completely.”
“Oh, but how dreary you must find it to sit and eat alone!” Mrs Bennet continued, quite unabashed. “I have always thought the Netherfield dining room to be an eespecially bleak prospect, although - although not, of course, when populated with friends.” She beamed as if pleased with the way she had covered this unintentional slight. “But oh, my heart goes out to you Mr Darcy, to be trapped so, against your will, in a house alone -”
“Mama, you make him sound as if he were a recluse!” Lizzy remarked, wanting to forestall the invitation she knew must be on the very tip of her mother’s tongue. “I am sure even Mr Darcy, with his avowed dislike of crowds and parties, is not quite a hermit, at least not entirely.”
She was goading him, now, but she could not help it. There was something that amused her to see the usually haughty Mr Darcy ill-at-ease, although she would not own it. She watched him carefully, and saw a glimmer of amusement momentarily lighten his dark eyes, as he lifted them towards hers.
“Oh, I am quite sure I could give any hermit a run for his money in my desire for solitude, Miss Elizabeth.” He gestured around the room. “And yet, you see, I have been given precisely what I wished for this Christmas: time alone in an empty house to do with just as I please. And what have I done? Sought company at the first available opportunity. It seems, perhaps, that one must be careful what one wishes for.” He drained the last of his tea and set his cup and saucer down beside him. “I wonder, then, if I might be so bold as to invite you all to dine at Netherfield one evening. I should be grateful for your company, and am sure the snow will have melted sufficiently soon to enable the short journey by carriage.” He turned back towards Mr Bennet. “It will undermine your plans to avoid socialising quite all twelve days of Christmas, but I do not suppose it will reach quite the dizzying heights of the last gathering that was held at Netherfield.”
“Will Mr Bingley welcome your hosting guests in his home if he is not there?” Elizabeth could not keep herself from inquiring.
“I shall write immediately and ask him,” Mr Darcy promised, meeting her gaze and, for once, not immediately looking away.
***
“HERE, CAROLINE, IS news at last from Darcy! What do you think - he found himself snowed in at Netherfield, and unable to return to us for Christmas.”
Charles had strolled into the parlour and begun speaking even before Caroline had a chance to reach the end of the sentence she had been reading. She scowled and closed her book, which had offered her little enough in the way of entertainment anyway. She looked up at her brother, who clutched a letter in one hand, and reached absently for the fire-poker with the other, agitating the hearth into flame.
“He did not expect this to reach us, I wager, but I am pleased it did, for I was beginning to fear a little for the poor fellow. He makes the best of it, though, and writes to tell us that he has called on the Bennets and they are all well, thank heavens.”
Caroline strove to keep her true feelings from showing on her face.
“Oh?” she asked. “What else does he say?” And why does he say it at all? She had thought Darcy and she were of one mind when it came to the Bennet family - that to separate Charles from Jane before he made a foolish commitment to a young woman who was undeserving of his affections was wisdom itself. Now, he wrote mentioning the Bennets specifically, undoing all the good work that she had done over Christmas in removing Jane from her brother’s memory.
“Yes, they are all to dine at Netherfield this week.” Charles glanced to the window. “I wonder if we might join them, Caro. See, the snow is melting at last, on the roads at least. I am sure we could make the journey if our coachman drives with care. Would it not be pleasant to see the New Year in at Netherfield?”
Caroline coughed. She could not immediately summon an excuse to keep them in London, but Charles’ mind worked faster than hers.
“Oh, I know, dear, you wished to spend the season in town amongst friends. And yet you have scarcely left your seat! Why, you could be wrapped up anywhere. Why not make it Netherfield, when you might have Jane Bennet for a companion? She would make a fine nurse, I wager, for she is so kind and sweet-tempered. Far better than I have been, I am sure!”
He chuckled, and moved to his desk, penning a response to Darcy’s letter before Caroline could say another word.
She balled her hands into fists, digging her fingernails into the flesh of her palms. What had been the point in their exodus to London if Darcy would summon them back just a few short weeks later? What, indeed, had been the point of her feigned illness, if it was not enough to keep Charles from returning to the very young lady she had sought to keep him away from? She scowled at the window. Even the snow, which had conspired to keep them indoors and away from friends on Christmas Day was now no longer her ally. It would permit them to return to Netherfield, and all her hard work would be for nought.
“Oh, I do not know that I will be well enough to travel,” she said, meekly. She coughed, but when Charles did not look up from his work, nor even show any sign that he had heard her, she coughed again, more loudly.
“Would you like something to drink, Caroline?” he asked, finishing a word with a flourish. “Shall I fetch us some tea?”
“I am not sure that tea will help,” she croaked, tempering her voice with just the right level of weakness. “I fear I am taking a turn for the worse.”
“Goodness, no! But you ate so well last evening, and at breakfast too! I felt certain you were on the mend,” Charles said, hovering as if to stand. “Perhaps I ought to send for the doctor. He will come now, I’m sure of it.”
“Oh -” Caroline bit her lip. She might be able to fool her brother but a medic? Surely Dr Graves would see right through her facade and declare her quite fit and well. She did not want Charles to think her a liar.
“Well,” she began. “Perhaps, if you truly wish to travel back to Hertfordshire I might attempt to accompany you...” She drew her blanket a little tighter around her shoulders. “But I dare say it will not suit me to hurry. Perhaps we might wait a few days longer until the snow eases completely.”
“Oh, but Caroline! We cannot leave poor Darcy to host the entire Bennet family without us there to help him.” Charles cracked a merry grin. “Think how much sport Miss Elizabeth will have at his expense without us there to offer him respite.”
If he is foolish enough to invite them then he deserves whatever arsenal of cruelty Elizabeth Bennet has stored up to use against him! she thought, spitefully. Why should we travel all that way to help him out of a hole he has dug for himself?
Then another, worse, thought occurred to her and her mind turned the matter over in haste. What if, in Charles’ absence, Mr Darcy’s future was now the one at stake? She, Caroline, had been playing a long and careful game to win Mr Darcy’s heart, but she was not there - and Elizabeth Bennet was. Yes, and not only Elizabeth but the whole Bennet family. Surely one of them would wish to secure Mr Darcy - and his fortune - for themselves, and Caroline could do nothing to stop them from such a distance.
“Ouch!” She flinched, realising that in her anger at such a scene playing out in her imagination she had drawn her fingernails so tightly into her palms that they were close to bleeding. She whimpered, smoothing one hand with the fingertips of another.
“What is the matter?” Charles looked alarmed indeed and Caroline felt a guilty flush. She had been cruel indeed to persuade her brother that she was unwell. He was a good brother to her and a kind one and did not deserve to be made to worry when there was no need to. Caroline repented of her pretence, casting off her blanket and standing. She walked the short distance to Charles’ desk and smoothed his curls in the way her mother had done when Charles was a boy.
“Not a thing!” she promised him, with a smile that she hoped was bravely enduring. “If you wish to return to Hertfordshire, Charles, then, of course, I will be only too happy to come with you. Write and tell Mr Darcy now that we shall leave immediately and be back at Netherfield soon. I am sure he will be only too pleased for us to be there before the Bennets descend on him, for, as you say, he is not fond of such raucous company and we must help him to bear it, somehow.”