15. Fifteen

Fifteen

“ L izzy, where are you off to so early?” Jane’s voice broke the stillness, and Elizabeth paused on the stairs, startled.

She turned, drawing her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “Enjoying the quiet.”

Jane raised an eyebrow as she descended to meet her. “And pacing the halls at dawn is how you achieve that?”

Elizabeth gave a quick shrug and continued down. “Perhaps I find peace in movement.”

“Hmm,” Jane murmured, slipping her arm through Elizabeth’s when she reached her. “Or perhaps you find peace elusive this morning. Shall we sit by the fire and discuss it?”

Elizabeth hesitated, the thought of unburdening herself tempting but precarious. They reached the morning room, where a soft light filled the space. Elizabeth moved toward the window without answering, her gaze caught by the icy glaze shimmering over the surface of the snow.

Jane followed, but stayed a step back, observing her sister’s reflection in the glass. “Goodness, Lizzy, but you seem preoccupied. Does it have anything to do with your late visit to the library?”

Elizabeth stiffened slightly but did not turn. “You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?” Jane crossed to the settee. “I know you too well for that.”

Elizabeth sighed. Mr. Darcy’s voice echoed in her mind again—so measured, so sure, but with that flicker of vulnerability she could not quite shake. She turned from the window and faced Jane, forcing a smile.

“It is nothing, truly.”

“Of course,” Jane said, folding her hands neatly in her lap. “And your restless night, your early rising, your current silence—none of those are anything, either?”

Elizabeth’s smile faltered, and she pressed her lips together. “You are relentless.”

“Because I care.”

Elizabeth moved to sit beside her with a sigh. “I only wonder,” she said, “what to make of someone who is not what they first seem.”

Jane’s brow furrowed slightly. “And you do not know yet if they are better or worse than you thought?”

Elizabeth hesitated. “Perhaps better. Possibly a vast deal better. Though I am not yet ready to say.”

“Ah. And that troubling notion is what cost you so much sleep?”

Elizabeth gestured vaguely toward the stairs. “The house was too quiet, and I thought I might enjoy some air and see a bit more of the house.”

Jane tilted her head, her expression knowing. “And perhaps run into Mr. Darcy?”

“Jane Bennet!” Elizabeth lowered her voice, glancing down the hall. “You know perfectly well that I—”

“Admire him?” Jane teased sweetly.

“Am trying to escape your matchmaking.”

“Then perhaps you should avoid the breakfast room. I would imagine Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley are already there, and I would be shocked if Papa is not with them.”

Elizabeth coughed. “Papa? He, ah… he seems to like Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy, would you not say?”

“I daresay he does. I saw Miss Flora in the hall, and she said the gentlemen were all up early, talking about the details for Sir Thomas’s Christmas gathering.” Jane’s tone grew more serious. “Lizzy, I think it is a wonderful thing they are doing—for Sir Thomas and for his… residents.”

Elizabeth nodded. She had suspected as much last night, though hearing it confirmed sent a ripple of warmth through her chest. Mr. Darcy’s intentions seemed genuine, though she could not help but wonder what drove him to care so deeply about a cause that many others would dismiss outright.

“Shall we join them?” Jane’s voice broke through her musings.

Elizabeth hesitated. But then she squared her shoulders. “If Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley are plotting how best to charm Meryton, I should like to see how they intend to manage it.”

Jane chuckled as they made their way to the breakfast room. “Lizzy, you know very well that Mr. Darcy’s charm lies in his reserve.”

Elizabeth arched a brow. “His reserve or his glare? The distinction is subtle.”

T he breakfast room was alive with warmth. Mr. Bennet was seated near the fire, a cup of coffee in hand as Mr. Bingley gestured toward a sheet of paper spread before them. Mr. Darcy stood beside the table, his expression calm but attentive as he listened to Bingley’s ideas.

“Ah, my dear girls!” Mr. Bennet greeted them as they entered. “You see, Mr. Bingley has concocted a plan to win over every heart in Meryton, while Mr. Darcy prepares to scowl them into submission.”

Bingley laughed good-naturedly. “I shall take that as high praise, sir.”

Darcy’s lips quirked slightly, though he said nothing.

“Good morning,” Jane said warmly, taking a seat beside their father.

Elizabeth hesitated, feeling Darcy’s gaze on her as she chose a chair. “Mr. Bingley, I must say, you are taking this project very seriously.”

“Of course!” Bingley exclaimed. “A celebration is no small thing, Miss Elizabeth. And Sir Thomas deserves nothing less than our best effort.”

Darcy nodded. “We aim to show the neighborhood that he and his household are deserving of respect—not pity.”

Elizabeth glanced at him, startled by the conviction in his tone. “That is a delicate balance, Mr. Darcy. Respect is not easily won, particularly in a place as entrenched as Meryton.”

Darcy met her gaze, his expression thoughtful. “Which is why we must approach this carefully. The event itself must be flawless, and more than that, it must leave an impression strong enough to shift opinions.”

“Flawless,” Elizabeth echoed with a small, teasing smile. “And do you consider yourself an expert in such matters, Mr. Darcy?”

“Not an expert,” Darcy admitted, the corner of his mouth twitching. “But I believe in thorough preparation.”

Bingley clapped his hands together. “Then let us prepare! Miss Elizabeth, Miss Bennet—what advice might you offer? Surely you know your neighbors better than we do.”

Jane hesitated, but Elizabeth leaned forward, her mind already turning. “If you wish to win Meryton’s favor, you must appeal to their pride. Make them feel involved, important even. Invite the key families to contribute something—a dish, a decoration, a piece of music. Let them feel as though they are part of the celebration, not merely guests.”

Darcy’s eyes narrowed slightly, not in displeasure but in focus. “A sound strategy.”

Mr. Bingley nodded eagerly. “Yes, yes, exactly! And what of the entertainment? Should there be games, carols, perhaps a bit of theatrics?”

“Certainly nothing too grand,” Elizabeth said. “Something familiar, comforting. People like what they know.”

“Then it is settled,” Darcy said, his voice quiet but firm. “We will begin inviting the neighborhood at once and ensure they feel invested in the event.”

The rest of the morning passed in a flurry of conversation and planning. Elizabeth found herself oddly drawn to Darcy’s quiet competence, the way he listened carefully to every suggestion and offered thoughtful solutions. There was a steadiness about him that was so… opposite of anyone else in her life. A sense that he would see this endeavor through no matter the obstacles.

When Darcy caught her eye as they finalized the guest list, she felt her heart stutter. She quickly looked away, but the warmth of his gaze lingered, stirring something within her that she wished she could savor forever.

By the time the morning was over, Elizabeth felt both invigorated and unsettled. This Christmas party was shaping into something far more significant than she had anticipated—and Mr. Darcy, she realized, was shaping into someone far more intriguing than she had imagined.

T he remnants of breakfast still lingered on the sideboard as the company gathered in the drawing room. Sir Thomas had taken a chair near the hearth, his cup of coffee resting on the arm as he listened to Miss Bennet and Mr. Bingley exchange ideas for festive entertainments.

“No dancing,” Bingley decreed. “Much as I enjoy the activity myself. Darcy and I felt… well, you know, the intent is for everyone to find something to enjoy, and dancing…”

“There are some who cannot, even if they wished to,” Miss Bennet finished. “A game of forfeits might be suitable. It is always popular, especially among the young.”

“And charades, perhaps?” Bingley added, his smile growing. “Something to involve both the children and the adults.”

Sir Thomas gave a thoughtful nod. “Both are excellent suggestions. Simple yet engaging.”

Darcy stood near the window, his arms crossed loosely as he watched the others. The snow beyond the glass had softened to a light dusting, though patches of ice still clung to the shaded edges of the garden paths. He shifted his gaze to Elizabeth, who was leafing through a book from one of the smaller shelves, her movements purposeful despite her apparent distraction.

The fire crackled, punctuating the exchange as more ideas for the party were proposed. Miss Elizabeth lifted her head and glanced toward the window, the faintest frown creasing her brow. Darcy pushed himself away from the sill and crossed the room, compelled to draw her into the conversation.

“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, his voice low enough to avoid disturbing the others. “May I trouble you for a moment?”

She turned, her expression shifting from thoughtfulness to mild surprise. “Of course, Mr. Darcy.”

He inclined his head slightly, suppressing a smile. “I wondered if your father had any further thoughts on the plans. It was rather bold of us to present them so decisively. I hope we have not caused him any annoyance.”

Elizabeth cast a glance toward Mr. Bennet, who was seated in a corner, apparently engrossed in a book but with a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Papa is not easily annoyed, sir. At least not when something entertains him.”

“Then I am relieved,” Darcy said. “Though I confess, what I value even more than your approval is your honest assessment of our chances.”

Elizabeth tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her gaze. “Our chances, Mr. Darcy? Of pulling the whole affair off without incident—or of persuading the neighborhood to join hands and sing carols in perfect harmony?”

“Both.”

She let out a small laugh. “If you wish for perfect harmony, I fear you may find disappointment. But if the goal is goodwill and a measure of unity, I believe it is not so hopeless as it might seem.”

“Not hopeless,” Darcy repeated, as though testing the phrase. “Do you truly believe so?”

“I do,” she said. “Though it will require effort—and perhaps a little cunning—to overcome the town’s natural… wariness.”

His brow lifted slightly. “And do you count yourself among the cunning?”

Her lips curved, her voice gaining a playful edge. “That, Mr. Darcy, is for you to judge. But I will say this: the people of Meryton are not so hard-hearted as they might appear. Beneath all their gossip and judgment, they long for a reason to feel proud of their community. If this party gives them such a reason, I believe they will come.”

Darcy regarded her for a moment, the quiet conviction in her voice drawing his admiration. “You make it sound almost simple.”

“Simple?” She laughed. “Not at all. But then, nothing worth doing ever is, is it?”

“I am gratified to hear that,” Darcy said. “You do not think it too ambitious?”

“Oh, it is ambitious. But ambition is often the hallmark of a worthwhile endeavor. Or so I have heard.”

A small smile touched his lips. “Then I shall take that as encouragement.”

“See that you do, Mr. Darcy.”

Before Darcy could respond further, Bingley’s voice rang out. “Darcy! You are monopolizing Miss Elizabeth.”

Darcy turned toward his friend. “I had not realized I was doing so.”

“Well, no harm done,” Bingley replied with a grin. “But Miss Bennet has just received word from the coachman. It seems the roads may be passable sooner than expected.”

“Mama will be relieved to see us home at last,” Miss Bennet said.

“Yes, she will,” Elizabeth replied, though her tone betrayed no particular joy at the thought. “But I fear we may have all manner of questions to answer.”

Darcy stepped closer, his hands clasped behind his back as he considered her words. “Your mother is not so amenable as your father to… keeping certain company?”

“That depends.” Elizabeth’s lips curved faintly. “I imagine word that there were two single gentlemen staying here will go some way toward comforting her.”

Darcy frowned. “I imagine.”

“You must know how quickly rumors spread in small towns, Mr. Darcy.”

His brow furrowed. “If such questions arise, I hope you will allow me to take responsibility. It is the fault of the weather, not your family.”

She shook her head. “That would hardly silence a curious neighbor—or my mother.”

“I cannot speak for your neighbors, but I would hope Mrs. Bennet might find some satisfaction in knowing her daughters have lent their assistance to a worthy cause.”

Elizabeth gave him a sidelong glance, her expression teetering between amusement and disbelief. “You are an optimist, Mr. Darcy.”

“Rarely. But I suppose one must allow for exceptions.”

Their conversation was interrupted as the coachman entered the drawing room to announce that the carriage would soon be ready. Miss Bennet rose from her seat near the window, smoothing her skirts, and Mr. Bingley immediately moved to her side, murmuring something that made her smile.

Elizabeth reached for her shawl, feeling a mix of relief and something less easily named. Darcy, who had remained at her side, watched her for a moment before speaking again.

“Miss Elizabeth, might I hope to see you again soon? To help in planning the party, of course.”

Her gaze flickered to him, a touch of warmth breaking through her guarded expression. “I expect you shall.”

Darcy inclined his head. “Safe travels, Miss Elizabeth.”

“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” she said, dipping into a slight curtsy before moving to join her sister.

Darcy’s eyes lingered on her retreating figure, the warmth of the fire paling in comparison to the presence of the woman who had so thoroughly unsettled him. The day’s tasks called for his attention, yet he found himself reluctant to let the moment slip away entirely.