Page 79

“No, you may not leave. You are being punished.”

“For an unfortunate sentence?”

“No,” she said with a little laugh. “Do pay attention, Mr. Darcy. You are being punished for attempting to decorate the house out of order.”

Elizabeth had wished to help her aunt prepare for a Christmas she had not expected to spend at home. But those preparations had taught her a good deal more about her suitor than sitting in a drawing room and making polite conversation ever could.

Now he stood beside her near a hall table burdened with ivy, waiting for her rather than filling the silence.

The front door opened before either could speak again, and Cora entered carrying another bundle of greenery.

Elizabeth stepped back to let her pass and found herself pressed against Mr. Darcy’s chest. His hands closed around her arms, steadying her, and for one breath she was aware of the warmth of him at her back and the careful pressure of his fingers through her sleeves. He did not step away, and neither did she, and Cora went by them with her greenery without a word.

“I beg your pardon,” Mr. Darcy said, somewhere above her ear.

It did not sound like an apology. Perhaps she had teased him enough for one day.

By early evening, the house had been transformed. The parlour had received the best holly, just as it should. The dining room smelled pleasantly of bay and rosemary. The hall, she had to admit, was welcoming.

Only the kissing bough remained unfinished, and it was nearly done.

Mr. Darcy stood upon the lowest library step while Elizabeth held the wooden hoops steady. Margaret and Eleanor had already tied on the ribbons, and Jane had arranged the apples and oranges while Mr. Bingley complimented her work.

While Mr. Darcy reached above his head to fasten the cord, Henry appeared below them.

“Is that the mistletoe?” he asked.

“Part of it,” said Elizabeth.

“May I have some?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because the berries would make you sick if you ate them,” Jane replied from behind them.

“What if I do not eat them?”

“You are four, Henry,” Margaret said. “You will eat them.”

“Besides,” Eleanor said, “the berries are for the kisses.”

Her youngest brother lifted his chin and looked at her suspiciously. “What kisses?”

“The gentleman takes one berry and gives it to the lady for a kiss.”

Henry’s face changed at once. “Who would want to kiss a girl?”

Mr. Darcy finished attaching the final cord. “You may find you hold a different opinion in ten or twelve years.”

Mr. Bingley chuckled. “Or sooner.”

Edward nudged his younger brother. “Mr. Bingley wants to kiss Janie.”

“Eww,” Henry cried, and ran for the door.

“Henry—” Elizabeth called.