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“Mamma, Mr. Bingley wants to kiss Janie, and Mr. Darcy wants to kiss Lizzy!” he shouted as he raced away.

Well, Elizabeth thought, he had made that connection very quickly.

Mr. Darcy stepped down. “Is your cousin under the impression that his mother wishes to stop us?” he asked. “For I fear he may be disappointed.”

Elizabeth tipped her head back, and so did Mr. Darcy. The mistletoe was now hanging directly above them.

His gaze returned to hers. “Well,” he said.

Elizabeth’s pulse began to pick up speed. “Well?”

“I believe we should be the first to attempt this,” he said, reaching up to pluck one of the white berries from the bough. “To be certain everything is sound.”

Behind them, Margaret suppressed a laugh. Henry, evidently having discovered that leaving the room meant missing whatever was happening in it, ran back inside but sat down far away from the kissing bough and folded his arms across his chest.

Mr. Darcy ignored the commotion. Holding the berry between two fingers, he offered it to Elizabeth.

“I believe the custom is quite clear,” he told her.

Elizabeth could have made a witty remark about his notion of Christmas customs. She simply did not care to.

Instead, she took the berry from him and lifted her chin as he bent down to capture her lips with his. It was a gentle kiss, warm and unhurried, and for a moment Elizabeth forgot the children, the decorations, and that her sister was standing a few feet away.

When Mr. Darcy drew back, he remained close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath.

“Darcy,” Mr. Bingley said from behind them, “move.”

Mr. Darcy did not move.

“You cannot mean to keep the bough to yourself, you giant oaf,” Mr. Bingley said with a laugh. He had Jane by the hand and was staring at the mistletoe with unmistakable purpose.

Jane blushed. “Charles.”

“What? We have been far more patient than the pair of them.”

Her oldest cousin had been paying attention. “Lizzy,” she said. “Mr. Bingley is to be our cousin.”

“He is,” Elizabeth said.

Jane smiled brightly, and Margaret nodded. “Is Mr. Darcy to be our cousin as well?”

“Margaret,” Aunt Gardiner said reprovingly as she entered.

Margaret crossed her arms. “It is a reasonable question, Mamma.”

Jane lifted her brows and smirked at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth stepped away, smiling despite herself, and pulled Mr. Darcy along with her. He looked down at their joined hands and then back at her.

“I have enjoyed this Christmas very much,” he said, his voice deep and low.

“It has not even happened yet,” she told him.

“I believe you know what I mean.”

She did.

Mr. Darcy had first entered this house as an unwanted extension of Mr. Bingley, and, of course, Miss Bingley’s accident. He had done so as a gentleman Elizabeth distrusted.