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She looked at it. Then at him.

“I assure you, Mr. Pye, I am quite capable of walking.”

“So you have demonstrated, Miss Bingley.”

Mr. Bingley uttered a strangled sound that might have been a laugh while Miss Bingley glared at Mr. Pye, who merely smiled.

“I have no intention of allowing the street to defeat you twice. My reputation as a gentleman could not endure it.”

To Elizabeth’s surprise, Miss Bingley laughed. It was only a small laugh, and she seemed almost startled by it herself, but Mr. Pye seemed extraordinarily pleased to hear it.

“Very well,” she said. “But it is all on you now. Should I slip, I shall tell everyone that you are to blame.”

“Never you mind, madam. If you slip, I shall catch you.”

Miss Bingley looked at him.

Mr. Pye appeared to realise that the sentence had acquired a meaning he had not intended.

“As a gentleman,” he added.

Their procession was cheerful and uneven, the children walking ahead and then being recalled, Aunt Gardiner reminding Henry that he need not inspect every patch of ice along their route, and Uncle Gardiner declaring that no one was allowed to hurt themselves, for he had been anticipating the Christmas goose for at least a week and had no intention of missing his dinner.

The service itself was quieter. Elizabeth sat in the pew between Jane and Mr. Darcy. She followed the prayers and contemplated the meaning of the day, but she was also very conscious of the man who sat beside her. When she heard his deep, strong voice singing the hymn that followed the sermon, she felt the same quiet certainty as the day before. She loved Mr. Darcy, and she was going to marry him.

By the time they returned to Gracechurch Street, reverence was giving way to hunger, and when they all at last sat down to their Christmas meal, Uncle Gardiner lifted his glass.

“To unexpected company,” he said.

Miss Bingley coloured.

Then Uncle Gardiner continued, “To family, friends, good health, and Cook, without whom none of us would be sitting here so happily.”

Everyone drank.

The goose occupied the centre of the table, surrounded by vegetables, potatoes, pies, sauces, bread, and more dishes than Elizabeth could count. Aunt Gardiner and Cook had been busy.

At the other end of the table, Mr. Bingley was making an unsuccessful attempt to serve Jane while Uncle Gardiner was simultaneously passing a dish in the opposite direction.

“Charles,” Jane said, laughing, “there is no need to be formal here. I can reach it.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you leaning across three people?”

“I am being attentive.”

“You are putting your sleeve in the gravy.”

Mr. Bingley held up his arm. He was.

Edward began to laugh, and soon everyone was laughing, including Mr. Bingley. “This household has destroyed every vestige of dignity I possessed,” he announced.

Mr. Darcy cut into his goose. “You did not arrive with very much.”

Elizabeth tried very hard not to laugh, but in lifting a hand to cover her mouth, she dropped her fork.

“Janie,” Mr. Bingley complained, “your future brother is being unkind to me.”