Page 78

The door swung wider, and when she turned, Henry was standing in it, a length of ivy trailing from both fists. He addressed Mr. Darcy.

“Mamma says the greenery is ready,” he announced, “and Lizzy said that you have to work.”

Mr. Darcy looked at Elizabeth.

“I did say that,” she admitted.

He held out his hand, and when she took it, he lifted it for a kiss. Elizabeth did not pull it away.

By four o’clock on Christmas Eve, Elizabeth had learned three things.

Her aunt was in possession of more greenery than any household of this size could require, Mr. Bingley could not be trusted to hang the ivy, and Mr. Darcy was cheating.

“You have moved the front hall ahead of even the drawing room.”

“I have done no such thing.”

Elizabeth stood in the doorway with her hands upon her hips. A length of ivy already ran along the hall table, accompanied by three branches of holly. “That was not there ten minutes ago.”

Mr. Darcy studied it. “Remarkable.”

“You put it there,” she said, laughing.

“That cannot be proven,” he informed her.

Elizabeth shook her head. “You are standing beside the remaining ivy.”

“That is only circumstantial evidence.”

The whole house smelled of rosemary, bay, and the spiced wine. Jane and Aunt Gardiner were finishing the mantel in the drawing room, while Uncle Gardiner and Mr. Bingley had disappeared towards the dining room with strict instructions. The children travelled between every available space, carrying unsuitable objects and offering unhelpful advice.

Miss Bingley had been appointed to teach the children about paper roses, and she called them all together in a voice that could not be disobeyed.

Elizabeth stepped forward and adjusted the ivy that Mr. Darcy had so treacherously installed.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“It is crooked.”

“But it was straight before you touched it.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said pretending to be very solemn about it. “That is what men always say when they have put something up that is crooked.”

“And how many men have you decorated with?” Mr. Darcy inquired.

She tipped her head to one side and looked at him.

He froze, and the tips of his ears turned pink.

Elizabeth began to laugh.

“That was poorly phrased,” he said.

“I agree,” she said.

He cleared his throat. “I withdraw the question.”

She laughed harder, and he glanced down the hall. “Perhaps I should find Bingley.”