Elizabeth stilled and her eyes found his. “Yes, Mr. Darcy?”
He took another few steps. “We should speak.”
“Yes,” she said. “I think we—“
A terrible yell shattered the air and Miss Bingley broke through the trees to dump a bucket packed full of snow over Elizabeth’s head.
“I am on your side, Mr. Darcy!” she informed him. “We win!”
Elizabeth slowly straightened, shaking herself like one of Darcy’s retrievers when they exited the water. He waited as she dusted the snow from her bonnet and fixed it back atop her head. She was not hurt, for which he was grateful, but he was stunned by Miss Bingley’s appearance. When he had stayed at Netherfield last autumn he had rarely seen her downstairs before noon, and here it was only half-past nine. And never, ever had he known her to leave a well-marked path to hide amongst the trees.
Where had she even found a bucket, let alone thought it was a good idea to pack it with snow instead of just making a snowball like a normal person? Elizabeth was hopping about because some of it had undoubtedly slid down her back. It would chill her, and she was only just recovered from her first dunking in the pond.
That thought finally broke through his shock and propelled him into action. He strode over and took the pail from Miss Bingley. He turned to Elizabeth. “Miss Bennet,” he said, “are you well?”
She beamed at him. “Never better, Mr. Darcy.” She gestured to the pail and held out her hand. “May I have that bucket?”
“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
Elizabeth shivered as Kerr assisted 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.
