A movement by the inn door distracted her as she stood to discharge it, but she was mid-twist and did not see what it was. Captain Carter let out a loud grunt and staggered two steps backwards from the impact of the snowball that hit him hard on the side of his head, knocking his hat to the ground.
“Gads, my ear!” he bellowed. “Who threw that?”
Elizabeth regarded her own snowball, still in her hand. Then, as shouts went up accusing various officers, she peered over her shoulder at Mr Darcy. He looked as though he had never thrown a snowball in his life, standing tall and proper on the pavement, regarding the melee with a stern glower. And brushing something off his right glove.
Smiling to herself in wonder, Elizabeth knelt to gather up the scattered contents of the basket. She almost toppled over in amazement when Mr Darcy crouched next to her and took over the task. She stood up, flicking snow off her skirts, and thanked him when he handed her the refilled basket.
“That was a remarkable shot, Mr Darcy.”
“Not really. I was not aiming for his ear.”
She grinned, always appreciative to discover playfulness in people, and for some reason, particularly delighted to find a streak of it in Mr Darcy.
“What brings you to Meryton today?” She blushed a little, which was silly, for he could not have known that she had wishedto ask whether his cousin was with him.
“I left my travel inkwell here when I stayed. My man would have collected it, but I was riding this way anyway. Bingley and I planned to call at Longbourn. In fact, he has gone ahead. I am to meet him there.”
“Oh, Jane will be pleased. Could Mr Bingley not have waited for you, though?”
“It was too much of a delay for him, I am afraid.”
Elizabeth was grateful to him for admitting as much. To her mind, teasing his friend for his impatience to see Jane was as good as giving his approval of the match. She tried not to consider what his coming here first said about his own inclination to visit Longbourn.
“May I walk you and your sisters home?” he enquired.
“Certainly, if you do not mind waiting while I take this basket to my aunt.”
“Of course,” he replied and indicated for her to lead the way.
Though it felt a little traitorous, Elizabeth wished she could avoid a meeting between Mr Darcy and Mrs Philips. Her aunt was bound to do or say something—or many things—that would excite his sense of rank, and though she could not like his pride, this would be one of the last times she would be in company with him, and she felt again her new reluctance that he should recall her or her relations unkindly.
“You must not feel obliged to accompany me. ’Tis only on Gunners Street. I shall run there now and be back in a few minutes.”
He only smiled and started walking. Unable to think of a reasonable excuse to put him off, Elizabeth called for Lydia and Kitty to come and then fell in beside him.
“My sister tells me she had a very pleasant evening on Saturday,” he said.
“I am glad to hear it. Miss Darcy is a little shy, if I am not mistaken?” He nodded, thus she continued, “I was hopeful that, by the end of the evening, we had put her at ease.”
“If the evening was as unrestrained as Christmas Day, I have no doubt you had.” He gave her a half smile and added, “Your relations are all so comfortable with each other, it is difficult for guests to remain on ceremony.”
“You mean you enjoyed my mother’s nerves, my father’s facetiousness, and my sisters’ squabbling?”
“Would it surprise you if I said I did?”
“Yes!” she replied with an incredulous laugh.
He inclined his head. “That is fair. It surprised me, too.”
They arrived, and Mr Philips answered the door, taking his basket of Christmas treats eagerly and waving away Elizabeth’s apologies for those that had melting snow on their wrappings. Mrs Philips appeared behind him, Christmas wishes on her lips that dried up when she espied Elizabeth’s companion.
“Good heavens. Look who istoleratingLizzy today!” She laughed falsely and exaggeratedly to emphasise how humorous she found herself.
The ground did not swallow Elizabeth, despite the intensity with which she desired it. “We must be getting back,” she said feebly and turned to go.
“Do not be daft,” her aunt replied. “Come in out of the snow, and have some tea. Come.”
Elizabeth looked back to refuse politely, only to see Mr Darcy remove his hat and step inside the house. “But, Jane and Mr Bingley?—”
