Midwinter in Meryton Read online

  “Apparently,” Mr Benet grumbled from his seat in the corner of the parlour. He glanced up at Darcy as he walked into the room, and his eyes almost immediately slid past him, to the closed door of his study. Darcy felt a moment of kinship with this man, who seemed to long for quiet and peace amidst the chaos of womenfolk as Darcy would. He bowed.

  “Mr Bennet,” he said. “Merry Christmas. And to you, Mrs Bennet. Ladies.” He glanced around the room, his eyes slipping quickly from daughter to daughter, never resting on anyone for more than a moment. It struck him again, as it had upon their first meeting, how different each of the girls were. Their looks differed, although that was of no surprise to him, for did not his own sister resemble him but slightly? But their characters, too, could be seen on display as well as if they wore them pinned to their breast. There were Kitty and Lydia, sitting in the window, squabbling over some hair ribbons. Mary was hidden behind a book, and barely even looked up to acknowledge his arrival. Jane, on a sofa, was intent upon her work-basket, and Darcy noticed the hint of colour that pricked her cheeks as she darted a glance up at him and away again almost immediately. Did he imagine the ghost of disappointment that flitted across her face?

  No doubt she laments it is I, and not her beloved Bingley who calls, he thought, with a grim smile. Alas, I am far less susceptible to your charms, Miss Bennet, however evident they may be.

  She was pretty, he must credit his friend with choosing well in that respect. But beauty is no great marker of character, as Darcy well knew. Indeed, he held it to be a false equivalency that because a person was beautiful on the outside they might be beautiful within. In his experience, the opposite was often true.

  “Will you sit, Mr Darcy, or do you intend to linger in the doorway all afternoon?”

  It was Elizabeth who spoke, dancing past him towards the sofa and collapsing theatrically into it next to Jane.

  He nodded, taking a step further into the room and selecting an empty chair. Almost against his will, his gaze was drawn once more to that particular sofa, and he found himself comparing the two sisters, who could not be less alike to look at and yet, he fancied that Elizabeth Bennet had grown more beautiful in the short time he had known her than he thought possible. He blinked. No, he did not imagine it. Her eyes sparkled with fun and amusement - at his own awkwardness, no doubt - and the winter chill had rendered her cheeks rosy and warm. He felt the strange urge to reach out and brush a few stray snowflakes from her dark curls, but in an instant, they had melted away in the heat, and he abruptly shifted his gaze.

  When the tea arrived, he took a cup with thanks, and angled his chair towards Mr Bennet, feeling that the patriarch would be his most agreeable source of conversation in that happy, crowded room.

  “I trust you have enjoyed your Christmas,” he began, trying his best to ignore the giddy whispers from Lydia and Kitty, and keep his eyes from straying back to Elizabeth and Jane, whose own murmured conversation sparked his curiosity.

  “Ha!” Mr Bennet barked, removing his spectacles and smiling wryly in Darcy’s direction. “It is not over yet, Mr Darcy. There are twelve days, are not there? And we shall endure every single one with glee!”

  He pulled a face, and Darcy smiled, awkwardly, and attended to his tea.

  Chapter Four

  Lizzy was not sure which was more amusing: her father’s perpetual cynicism about the duration of the Christmas season, or Mr Darcy’s evident discomfort at the way his polite inquiry had been met. Poor Mr Darcy looks as if he has just discovered he is sitting on a pin! she thought, hiding her laughter behind her cup and forcing herself to take a polite sip of tea as if there were nothing at all the matter.

  “I see. Do you celebrate every night?” Mr Darcy asked, with a politeness that was not, Elizabeth wagered, without effort. He glanced around the room. “I must compliment you on your decorations, Mrs Bennet.”

  Elizabeth exchanged a glance with Jane, as Mrs Bennet blossomed under this perfunctory compliment. She launched into a detailed description of her design aspirations and did not appear to notice that her enthusiasm was not matched by their guest. It was not until Mr Bennet harrumphed pointedly in her direction that his wife paused for breath, and the conversation was permitted to move in a different direction.

  “It is a quieter season this year than most,” Mr Bennet acknowledged. “This wretched snow keeps everyone indoors.” He grinned, saluting the room with his teacup. “For which we rejoice. There have been no visitors, save yourself, of course. No guests, no parties to attend and only a modicum of feasting.” He took a sip of tea, returned his cup to its saucer and patted his ample middle. “Would that every social season could be got through so efficiently!”

  “Oh, Mr Bennet!” Lizzy’s mother eyed her husband with a reproachful smile. “You do tease us! Yes, you do. Mr Darcy, I am sure you understand how disappointing it is for us to have lost so many opportunities to socialise and be amongst friends. Why, your Netherfield ball was the last opportunity my girls had to dance and be merry. It is a pity!”

  “That was but a few weeks ago, Mama,” Lizzy reminded her, reaching into Jane’s work-basket and winding a loose ball of wool tighter. “You make it sound as if we are incapable of making our own amusements.”

  “And what do you find to occupy your time, Miss Elizabeth?”

  The question came so innocently that Lizzy was not sure which of them was more surprised. Herself, to hear it, or Mr Darcy, to ask it.

  “Shovelling snow,” she answered, smiling sweetly.

  Lydia snorted and sought to thrust herself back into the conversation.

  “And forcing your sisters to help you!” She turned a simpering smile on their guest. “Mr Darcy, you cannot imagine how grateful we are to you for completing the task on our behalf. Truly you must be an angel sent from heaven to help us.”

  Mr Darcy had been taking a sip of his tea at the moment that this effusive complement was directed towards him and he started, chocking furiously on the mouthful. Lydia giggled, which seemed to make poor Mr Darcy’s discomfort all the worse, and at last, he succeeded in swallowing and gulped in a couple of heavy breaths.

  “You are too kind, Miss Lydia,” he said, at last, his voice hoarse from coughing. “I am but a mere mortal, but as a gentleman, it was the least I could do.” He nodded, deferentially. “Indeed, I found myself kept here by the weather far longer than I intended. I fear it will be some days yet before I can make my planned return to London.”

  “You are here alone?” Mrs Bennet asked, with a sly glance towards Jane that must not have gone unnoticed. Lizzy fixed her eyes on Mr Darcy and was rewarded to see him resist making the same connection. His gaze was fixed on the ground at his feet.

  “Yes, alone. Alas, I fear the staff had hoped for a quiet Christmas with no residents to look after, and I spoiled their plans completely.”

  “Oh, but how dreary you must find it to sit and eat alone!” Mrs Bennet continued, quite unabashed. “I have always thought the Netherfield dining room to be an eespecially bleak prospect, although - although not, of course, when populated with friends.” She beamed as if pleased with the way she had covered this unintentional slight. “But oh, my heart goes out to you Mr Darcy, to be trapped so, against your will, in a house alone -”

  “Mama, you make him sound as if he were a recluse!” Lizzy remarked, wanting to forestall the invitation she knew must be on the very tip of her mother’s tongue. “I am sure even Mr Darcy, with his avowed dislike of crowds and parties, is not quite a hermit, at least not entirely.”

  She was goading him, now, but she could not help it. There was something that amused her to see the usually haughty Mr Darcy ill-at-ease, although she would not own it. She watched him carefully, and saw a glimmer of amusement momentarily lighten his dark eyes, as he lifted them towards hers.

  “Oh, I am quite sure I could give any hermit a run for his money in my desire for solitude, Miss Elizabeth.” He gestured around the room. “And yet, you see, I have been g
iven precisely what I wished for this Christmas: time alone in an empty house to do with just as I please. And what have I done? Sought company at the first available opportunity. It seems, perhaps, that one must be careful what one wishes for.” He drained the last of his tea and set his cup and saucer down beside him. “I wonder, then, if I might be so bold as to invite you all to dine at Netherfield one evening. I should be grateful for your company, and am sure the snow will have melted sufficiently soon to enable the short journey by carriage.” He turned back towards Mr Bennet. “It will undermine your plans to avoid socialising quite all twelve days of Christmas, but I do not suppose it will reach quite the dizzying heights of the last gathering that was held at Netherfield.”

  “Will Mr Bingley welcome your hosting guests in his home if he is not there?” Elizabeth could not keep herself from inquiring.

  “I shall write immediately and ask him,” Mr Darcy promised, meeting her gaze and, for once, not immediately looking away.

  “HERE, CAROLINE, IS news at last from Darcy! What do you think - he found himself snowed in at Netherfield, and unable to return to us for Christmas.”

  Charles had strolled into the parlour and begun speaking even before Caroline had a chance to reach the end of the sentence she had been reading. She scowled and closed her book, which had offered her little enough in the way of entertainment anyway. She looked up at her brother, who clutched a letter in one hand, and reached absently for the fire-poker with the other, agitating the hearth into flame.

  “He did not expect this to reach us, I wager, but I am pleased it did, for I was beginning to fear a little for the poor fellow. He makes the best of it, though, and writes to tell us that he has called on the Bennets and they are all well, thank heavens.”

  Caroline strove to keep her true feelings from showing on her face.

  “Oh?” she asked. “What else does he say?” And why does he say it at all? She had thought Darcy and she were of one mind when it came to the Bennet family - that to separate Charles from Jane before he made a foolish commitment to a young woman who was undeserving of his affections was wisdom itself. Now, he wrote mentioning the Bennets specifically, undoing all the good work that she had done over Christmas in removing Jane from her brother’s memory.

  “Yes, they are all to dine at Netherfield this week.” Charles glanced to the window. “I wonder if we might join them, Caro. See, the snow is melting at last, on the roads at least. I am sure we could make the journey if our coachman drives with care. Would it not be pleasant to see the New Year in at Netherfield?”

  Caroline coughed. She could not immediately summon an excuse to keep them in London, but Charles’ mind worked faster than hers.

  “Oh, I know, dear, you wished to spend the season in town amongst friends. And yet you have scarcely left your seat! Why, you could be wrapped up anywhere. Why not make it Netherfield, when you might have Jane Bennet for a companion? She would make a fine nurse, I wager, for she is so kind and sweet-tempered. Far better than I have been, I am sure!”

  He chuckled, and moved to his desk, penning a response to Darcy’s letter before Caroline could say another word.

  She balled her hands into fists, digging her fingernails into the flesh of her palms. What had been the point in their exodus to London if Darcy would summon them back just a few short weeks later? What, indeed, had been the point of her feigned illness, if it was not enough to keep Charles from returning to the very young lady she had sought to keep him away from? She scowled at the window. Even the snow, which had conspired to keep them indoors and away from friends on Christmas Day was now no longer her ally. It would permit them to return to Netherfield, and all her hard work would be for nought.

  “Oh, I do not know that I will be well enough to travel,” she said, meekly. She coughed, but when Charles did not look up from his work, nor even show any sign that he had heard her, she coughed again, more loudly.

  “Would you like something to drink, Caroline?” he asked, finishing a word with a flourish. “Shall I fetch us some tea?”

  “I am not sure that tea will help,” she croaked, tempering her voice with just the right level of weakness. “I fear I am taking a turn for the worse.”

  “Goodness, no! But you ate so well last evening, and at breakfast too! I felt certain you were on the mend,” Charles said, hovering as if to stand. “Perhaps I ought to send for the doctor. He will come now, I’m sure of it.”

  “Oh -” Caroline bit her lip. She might be able to fool her brother but a medic? Surely Dr Graves would see right through her facade and declare her quite fit and well. She did not want Charles to think her a liar.

  “Well,” she began. “Perhaps, if you truly wish to travel back to Hertfordshire I might attempt to accompany you...” She drew her blanket a little tighter around her shoulders. “But I dare say it will not suit me to hurry. Perhaps we might wait a few days longer until the snow eases completely.”

  “Oh, but Caroline! We cannot leave poor Darcy to host the entire Bennet family without us there to help him.” Charles cracked a merry grin. “Think how much sport Miss Elizabeth will have at his expense without us there to offer him respite.”

  If he is foolish enough to invite them then he deserves whatever arsenal of cruelty Elizabeth Bennet has stored up to use against him! she thought, spitefully. Why should we travel all that way to help him out of a hole he has dug for himself?

  Then another, worse, thought occurred to her and her mind turned the matter over in haste. What if, in Charles’ absence, Mr Darcy’s future was now the one at stake? She, Caroline, had been playing a long and careful game to win Mr Darcy’s heart, but she was not there - and Elizabeth Bennet was. Yes, and not only Elizabeth but the whole Bennet family. Surely one of them would wish to secure Mr Darcy - and his fortune - for themselves, and Caroline could do nothing to stop them from such a distance.

  “Ouch!” She flinched, realising that in her anger at such a scene playing out in her imagination she had drawn her fingernails so tightly into her palms that they were close to bleeding. She whimpered, smoothing one hand with the fingertips of another.

  “What is the matter?” Charles looked alarmed indeed and Caroline felt a guilty flush. She had been cruel indeed to persuade her brother that she was unwell. He was a good brother to her and a kind one and did not deserve to be made to worry when there was no need to. Caroline repented of her pretence, casting off her blanket and standing. She walked the short distance to Charles’ desk and smoothed his curls in the way her mother had done when Charles was a boy.

  “Not a thing!” she promised him, with a smile that she hoped was bravely enduring. “If you wish to return to Hertfordshire, Charles, then, of course, I will be only too happy to come with you. Write and tell Mr Darcy now that we shall leave immediately and be back at Netherfield soon. I am sure he will be only too pleased for us to be there before the Bennets descend on him, for, as you say, he is not fond of such raucous company and we must help him to bear it, somehow.”

  Chapter Five

  I might be so bold as to invite you all to dine at Netherfield...

  Darcy was not quite sure what had prompted him to make such a suggestion, nor what strange spirit had come to possess him that he was quite looking forward to the occasion! Indeed, he strode the hallways of Netherfield Park with a spring in his step, eager to throw open the blinds that had been drawn closed and air out the rooms that had already begun to be shut up with the party’s flight for London. The skeleton staff that remained at the house were in a flurry of activity, more so when word reached them that Charles and Caroline would also be returning at their first available opportunity.

  The snow had eased, although the temperatures had not lifted, so the lawns and fields remained blanketed in an increasingly icy sheet of snow. Feeling invigorated from his efforts to clear the Bennets’ drive, he had thrown himself into the work of clearing the paths at Netherfield also, although he had only managed to clear a few feet before the groundsman
hurried forward and insisted upon taking the task from him. Darcy was recalled to himself and sheepishly handed the shovel to the wizened older man, apologising profusely for any unintentional slight he might have taken from Darcy’s sudden attempt at valiance.

  With the arrival of the note for his friends, he was assured the roads must be clearing, but decided he ought to investigate for himself. It was for this reason that he was, yet again, striding out into the icy Hertfordshire afternoon, with his coat tight around his shoulders, tensed against the freezing temperatures.

  He reached the edge of the Netherfield estate without difficulty. Their groundsman had been thorough in his work, and the path he had cleared was quite wide enough to permit a carriage - or two, because now they would be expecting not only the Bennets but also Mr and Miss Bingley. Darcy swallowed, certain he could already deduce Caroline’s opinion of their swift retreat and even hastier return. He had conjured up the very image of her, the scowl she must have worn and the lecture she would, even now, be preparing to use against him. To his surprise, the thought did not intimidate him. He cared for Caroline Bingley only in the sense that she was sister to his friend, and because he ought to treat every young lady in the circle of his acquaintance with a general measure of respect. He had been convicted, that afternoon he spent at Longbourn, of how quick he had been to judge the Bennets on their giddy behaviour at the ball. Lydia and Kitty were high-spirited, to be sure, but could the same not be said of Georgiana? He frowned. Or perhaps it might have been, had not the shadow of George Wickham caused her to be so reserved, so often alone. Fleetingly he wondered how it might benefit his sister to have society with young ladies such as the Bennets, although he recoiled from the thought almost as quickly as he had entertained it. Still, it seemed to take root, and he found himself seeking to interact with the family at Longbourn almost on her behalf, as if he might glean some intelligence that would be of benefit to his sister upon their reunion at Pemberley.