He was taken back to that night at Netherfield, where he and Elizabeth had debated over the qualities of an accomplished woman.
“That is not possible for any man,” he told her, repeating his words from that night with some relish. “But it has been the study of my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong understanding to ridicule.”
Her expression softened, and she came to a sudden stop. “Such as a fondness for Gilpin and an aunt straight from a folktale?”
He held Elizabeth’s gaze, feeling a powerful surge of love for her as he struggled to keep from smiling like a fool. “Precisely.”
Miss Bingley shouted out to him again, interrupting the moment. Darcy tugged once at his ear, something he did when he was annoyed. He had never been so glad that she and Mrs. Hurst had not realised they were a brother short until he and Bingley were already back at Netherfield, the furniture uncovered and the staff at their work.
By the time Darcy had returned to Netherfield with his sister and a draft of his marriage contract, Miss Bingley was pretending that nothing untoward had occurred at all. By the next morning, she had instructed a tall footman to hang mistletoe from every possible doorway and had taken to posing in just the right place as she waited for him to walk through.
Darcy was well prepared for such behaviour. He had made an enquiry, and Mrs. Nicholls had been only too pleased to show him the servant entrances to the main rooms. She and the rest of the staff bore quite the grudge towards Miss Bingley for her abrupt way of turning them off. Thwarting her at every turn while still fulfilling her direct orders had become a sort of sport for them.
He would not even mind the mistletoe if he could only get the proper woman to join him beneath it. Bingley had made great use of the berries with Miss Bennet, but Elizabeth was another kind of woman altogether. She had begun to slip into rooms before him, knowing full well what he wanted and equally determined to deny him. Her teasing smiles were proof of that.
No matter. It would make catching her all the better.
“Oh, Mr. Darcy!” Miss Bingley called again, sitting on the ice beneath a large oak whose branches spread out over the pond. “Would you help me up, sir?”
He sighed. Thanks to Miss Bennet’s sensible pleas, Bingley was safely on shore. As the only gentleman here, he would be forced to assist. He glided over and held out his hands to help her up.
As she stood, she fell forward into his arms, and then glanced up. “Oh, look!”
There was a sprig of mistletoe wedged between the two lower branches. “That is not natural,” he said flatly.
“It is tradition,” she said, and batted her eyes at him. Her lips puckered into a pout, and she lifted her chin . . .
Darcy was suddenly surrounded by wool cloaks and winter bonnets. He lifted his arms above his head to allow them all to pass, and within seconds, they had skated away, Miss Bingley in the centre of their circle and moving away with them, though not without a screech that reminded Darcy of a magpie.
Miss Lydia appeared behind Miss Elizabeth and gave her a hard shove forward. This time, Elizabeth truly did nearly fall, and Darcy caught her, holding her close as he steadied them both.
The youngest Miss Bennet dusted her mittened hands and grinned. “That is better,” she said, and skated away after the other women.
Elizabeth smelled like the cinnamon apples from breakfast, and Darcy took a deep breath of it as he helped her to find her feet again. He did not remove his arms. “Elizabeth,” he whispered. “Mistletoe.”
She placed one mittened hand on his chest. “Mamma wanted a spring wedding, but I do not think I wish to wait any longer to call the banns,” she said quietly.
Darcy dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Why is that?”
“I do not like how Miss Bingley looks at you.”
He chuckled. “Are you jealous, love?”
She huffed. “No. Yes. I mean . . .” She pulled back slightly to wave a hand that encompassed his entire body. “You are so . . . You are very . . .”
He had changed nothing about his person. She could only be calling him handsome. “I would be pleased to make the engagement public.” He kissed her nose.
Elizabeth pulled a face. “Our engagement has been public for ages thanks to your aunt, no matter how staunchly Miss Bingley refuses to believe it. I just wish to make it formal. Papa will announce it at dinner tomorrow, but I would like to set the wedding date.”
“I thought you wished to wait until Miss Lucas was wed,” he reminded her teasingly.
“Very well,” she said with some pique. “You have had two kisses. Kindly release me.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?” Elizabeth asked. She did not push him away, and Darcy was greatly encouraged.
“I have not yet had the real kiss, for I have not given you a berry,” he replied, reaching up to pluck one from the mistletoe Miss Bingley had somehow managed to have secured here. There was only one berry remaining, and he grinned as he showed it to Elizabeth. “She wished hers to be the only kiss,” he said with a laugh.