“I shall miss you very much, Lizzy. Are you quite sure you will not come with us to London? We could wait while you pack your trunks.”
Elizabeth and Mrs Gardiner were both obliged to step backwards as two servants struggled to lift a large case onto the chaise.
Elizabeth ducked her head, feigning interest in a holly bush. She picked a sprig for good measure and was pricked for her trouble. “You are a saint to invite me, Aunt, but I shall not impose, no matter how many times you press me. You must have had enough ‘Bennet’ to last you until Easter, I am sure. And with Charlotte’s invitation for me to visit her then, we do at least have a date to look forward to. Are you sure it will not be a nuisance for me to stay with you on my way there?”
“Of course I am sure,” Mrs Gardiner replied. “Your uncle and I shall anticipate it most eagerly.”
If Mrs Gardiner thought her frequent wary glances were subtle, Elizabeth had not the heart to announce otherwise, though she was, at least, forewarned when her aunt broached a more serious topic.
“If you are resolved to stay, I hope it is not with any unduly fanciful expectations for your own happiness.”
“We ought to hope not,” she replied, laughing, “otherwise, that speech might rob me of all optimism.”
Mrs Gardiner’s countenance clouded. “I do not wish to pain you, but it was obvious to me, if not to anyone else, that you were intrigued by Mr Darcy. And once the heart is intrigued?—”
“I appreciate your concern,” Elizabeth interrupted, “but you need not be under any alarm. Hill reports he has brought his cousin back with him after all. I believe we may be assured he is not here to involve himself in an affection with anyone else.”
“That is unexpected,” Mrs Gardiner replied, looking genuinely astonished.
“Is it? It was no secret that they had an understanding. I expect they have cemented their engagement on their travels. A week in Meryton no doubt confirmed all their worst fears of savage country manners and hastened them to their purpose.” Elizabeth was surprised by the bitterness in her voice—surprised and then diverted. “Goodness! How the tables have turned,” she said with a laugh.
“In what way?”
Elizabeth was glad of the interruption of her young cousins being brought out to board the coach, for it excused her from satisfying her aunt’s curiosity. Nevertheless, she could not help but be diverted by the complete about-turn that, after two weeks of the reverse being true, sawhernow being jealous of Miss de Bourgh.
“Will you see him at Purvis Lodge this evening?” Mrs Gardiner whispered as her children were herded into the carriage.
“No, I do not believe so. It is a quiet affair. We are the only guests, I understand.”
Mrs Gardiner nodded. “That is probably for the best, my dear.” She leant closer, her expression earnest. “I would not see you be made a fool of by a man simply because he has too much money and a pretty face.”
Fighting the absurd urge to cry, Elizabeth forced herself to grin. “We agree, then, that he has a pretty face.”
“We could hardly disagree about that, could we? The whole purpose of this conversation being about facts, not fantasies. He is a beautiful man. And more fool him, he will never marry you, no matter how handsome or sensible orworthyyou may be.” She cupped Elizabeth’s cheek with her hand and shook her head sadly. “My dearest Lizzy.”
Nothing Mrs Gardiner said was untrue. Nevertheless, Elizabeth wished she had not felt the need to actuallysayany of it. It rather detracted from the holiday spirit to be reminded of one’s utter lack of marriageability. She turned to peer into the carriage, resolved to concentrate onhercousins’ departure, and spare not a thought for Mr Darcy orhiscousin’s return to Hertfordshire.
14
After a successful dinner on Saturday evening, it had been generally expected that Mr Bingley would become a regular visitor at Longbourn. Regrettably, his friend’s return put paid to any calls on Monday, and the Gardiners’ departure and dinner at Purvis Lodge occupied the Bennets on Tuesday. By Wednesday morning, Mrs Bennet had reached the limit of her patience. All five of her daughters were bustled out of the house and ordered to walk to Meryton to deliver a basket to their aunt and uncle Philips.
“And keep alert, Jane!” she cried after them from the front door. “Since you cannot seem to see Mr Bingley at home, you had better attempt to see him elsewhere.”
Her direction was not to be fulfilled. It began to snow shortly after they set out, and Mary immediately petitioned to be allowed to return to the house. Jane, less fearful than her younger sister of Mrs Bennet’s reproach but equally averse to getting cold, accompanied her. Lydia and Kitty would not be put off the chance of seeing some officers by anything so paltry as a bit of precipitation. Elizabeth was left to carry the basket as the pair of them walked ahead. She did not mind, for she always enjoyed snow. It altered everything, giving something new to discover in even the most familiar landscapes. She relished the beauty of it, despite how the cold burned her toes.
“There they are!” Lydia exclaimed excitedly, almost as soon as they turned into the bottom of the High Street. “Denny! Carter!”
Elizabeth did not reprimand her for the indelicate shriek, for there was something about snow that made one feel singularly festive, and she had not the heart to play the stern governess. Besides, the only people there to witness it were the several officers in the square, all of whom were engaged in a raucous snowball fight. She hardly thought they would care.
She followed her sisters to the water pump, behind which Captain Carter was taking refuge. “You look as though you are on the losing side, sir.”
“’Tis not so much a matter of sides as every man to himself,” he replied.
“Or girl!” Lydia said excitedly, already squatting to scoop up a handful of ammunition. She stood up to throw it but ducked down again directly as someone else’s shot sailed over her head. She whooped with laughter and was soon dashing about the square with Kitty, hurling snow rather ineffectively at the swarm of red coats.
Elizabeth considered stopping them but decided it looked like too much fun to abstain and instead looked around for somewhere to perch her basket so she could join in. As she did, the door of theGeorge and Crown opened, and Mr Darcy stepped out. Their eyes met, but there was no time for anything more, for at that moment, a snowball hit her on the back of the neck, and ice was wedged beneath her collar to tumble down her back. She dropped her basket and cried out in shock.
Behind her, Lydia and Kitty both fell into peals of laughter, and shouts of, “Bad form, Carter!” rang around the square, but the fight otherwise raged on, indifferent to her plight. Elizabeth bent, laughing, to gather up a retaliatory shot.
