CHAPTER ELEVEN
“HAVE YOU EVER been confined at Longbourn by a snowstorm?” Darcy asked, his eyes settling upon Elizabeth with a deliberation that startled her.
For a moment Elizabeth did not answer, surprised less by the question itself than by the simple fact of his addressing her so directly. He had spoken so little to her since their arrival that his attention, now openly fixed upon her, felt like a sudden alteration in the air.
“Not so much as to feel confined, sir,” she replied at last. “Snow has its inconveniences, but Hertfordshire rarely succeeds in rendering itself intolerable.”
“I am relieved to hear it,” he said. “I had wondered whether winter ever pressed too heavily upon your spirits.”
Elizabeth regarded him with quiet amusement. “It rarely succeeds in doing so, Mr Darcy. Stillness tries me far more than cold.”
He inclined his head, as though the answer confirmed something he had already suspected. “Then I imagine winter affords you little repose.”
“On the contrary,” she said. “It affords me opportunity.”
Darcy smiled. "In Meryton, do you still take long walks during winter?"
“Walking remains my chief indulgence, whatever the season.”
The drawing room hummed around them. Two card tables were in use, Mr and Mrs Collins with the Hursts at one, Miss Bingley, Mr Bingley, Captain Ashford, and Colonel Fitzwilliam at the other.
Mrs Bennet moved between them with lively commentary.
Lady Catherine observed from her chair with vigilant interest. Jane sat near Mrs Gardiner, their conversation low and composed.
Elizabeth was acutely aware that Darcy had chosen her from among them all.
"I am sorry Derbyshire does not permit you the same liberty," he said gently.
She shook her head. "You are very kind, sir. However, even if I were not confined indoors, the country is unfamiliar to me, and the roads—" she smiled "—are not encouraging. I should hardly know where to walk without losing myself entirely."
A soft sound escaped him, not quite a laugh, but near enough to one. “I doubt that would deter you long.”
Elizabeth smiled. "I doubt that as well. I should have ventured out for at least one walk by now." She hesitated, as though uncertain whether to continue, then added, "I do not know if I ever mentioned it in our conversations, but walking is one of my greatest pleasures."
“I remember,” he said at once.
She looked at him, genuinely startled.
“When you came to Netherfield,” he continued, “to see your sister. You had walked the distance in unfavourable weather, and arrived with a countenance entirely unrepentant of the exertion.”
Elizabeth laughed. “It was not so very far.”
“Three miles,” he said quietly. “In the mud.”
Her smile softened. “Jane was ill.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “And I recall thinking, at the time, that you possessed a determination quite beyond the reach of ordinary comfort.”
Elizabeth met his gaze, something warm and steady settling between them. “I take that as a compliment.”
“It was meant as one.”
For a moment neither spoke. The room around them seemed to recede, the hum of voices and the shuffle of cards falling away into something distant and unimportant.
“I had almost forgotten,” he said then, thoughtfully, “how very engaging conversation may be, when one is fortunate in one’s companion.”
The words were measured, but they carried.
Elizabeth met his gaze, surprised into frankness. “You speak as though you have been unfortunate of late.”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “Perhaps I have been.”
Caroline Bingley’s head turned sharply in their direction. Lady Catherine’s attention followed a moment later, her gaze narrowing with interest.
Elizabeth felt a flicker of warmth, not displeasing. “Pemberley does not lack society,” she said lightly. “Nor does it lack admirers of conversation.”
“No,” Darcy agreed. “But society is not always synonymous with exchange.”
Elizabeth smiled, though her heart beat rather faster than she liked. “Then I am glad to have been of service.”
He inclined his head, his expression earnest. “As am I.”
After a pause, he added, more lightly, “Perhaps we must contrive some means of restoring you to your accustomed liberty.”
Elizabeth’s brows lifted. “What do you mean?”
“With the current weather,” he said, lowering his voice slightly, “the stream beyond the lower meadow should be frozen solid by now. I wondered whether you might care to see it. We could attempt skating, should you be inclined.”
Elizabeth’s eyes brightened before she could check them. “You propose skating?”
“I wondered whether you might be inclined to try it,” he said. “If the conditions permit.”
“I have never skated,” she admitted. “Not in any serious fashion.”
“Then you would be in excellent company,” he replied. “Few of us began with grace.”
Before she could answer further, Caroline spoke up. “Skating? How delightful. I am exceedingly fond of it.”
“And I,” Kitty cried, springing up from her chair. “It is the most diverting thing imaginable.”
Darcy inclined his head. “The invitation is for all.”
Elizabeth suspected, with no small amusement, that the expansion of the invitation owed more to propriety than enthusiasm.
“If the ice is sound,” she said, returning her attention to Darcy, “I should like to see it, at least.”
“That may easily be arranged,” he replied. “I shall have Jenkins inspect the stream and see that the skates are brought out.”
He rose at once, as though the decision were not to be delayed.
“I shall return shortly,” he said, and left the room.
Elizabeth remained where she was, conscious not only of his absence, but of the distinct impression his presence had made.
It was, she reflected, a curious thing to feel once more the weight of his attention, after having known so keenly what it was to be without it.
And she found, to her surprise, that she did not resent the reminder.
***
“Georgiana Is Exceptional at this,” Elizabeth said, watching Darcy’s sister trace an elegant curve upon the ice, her movements light, assured, and entirely untroubled.
The stream below the lower meadow lay frozen hard.
Its surface had been cleared earlier in the morning, and now rang faintly beneath the skates of those who ventured upon it.
Only the younger members of the party had come out, together with Mr Gardiner and Mr Bennet, who stood near the bank, hands clasped behind them, observing with equal measures of indulgence and amusement.
The older ladies and the Hursts had remained indoors, the cold pronounced quite unsuitable for exertion.
“She has had more practice than she admits,” Darcy replied. “But she takes great pleasure in it.”
They stood together at the edge of the frozen stream, watching as Kitty and Lydia circled one another with shrieks of laughter, while Mr Bingley skated steadily beside Jane, his attention fixed far more upon her than upon the ice.
Georgiana moved easily among them, her confidence unmistakable.
Nearby, Mr Collins knelt with solemn concentration, assisting his wife with the fastening of her skate, though Charlotte’s expression suggested she required no such aid.
Elizabeth smiled at the scene, then turned back toward Darcy. “I fear I cannot boast of such familiarity.”
Georgiana glided back toward them, her cheeks flushed, her eyes alight. “You must try, Miss Elizabeth,” she said. “It is not so difficult once one ceases to be afraid of it.”
Elizabeth laughed. “That advice might be applied to many things.”
Before Georgiana could reply, Captain Ashford, who had been watching Darcy and Elizabeth out of the corner of his eyes, stepped forward with ready confidence. “If Miss Elizabeth will permit me, I should be delighted to assist. I am quite steady upon the ice.”
Elizabeth hesitated. Almost without thinking, her eyes went to Darcy, as though seeking either approval or protest. He swallowed, his jaw tightening for the briefest moment, before he inclined his head in reluctant acquiescence. To refuse outright would invite notice, and Elizabeth knew it.
Reluctantly, she accepted Ashford’s hand. “Very well. But I warn you, I am not a promising pupil.”
They set off at once. Elizabeth moved cautiously, her steps short and uncertain, while Ashford propelled them forward with an enthusiasm that far outpaced her ability. Her balance wavered; her foot slid unexpectedly; she caught at his sleeve more than once, laughing even as she struggled.
“I fear,” she said breathlessly, as her footing failed her yet again, “that enthusiasm alone is not quite sufficient.”
Ashford halted at once, his expression properly contrite. There was no disguising that he had offered very little true instruction; he had been far more intent on keeping her beside him than on teaching her anything of skating.
“You are perfectly correct,” he said. “I beg your pardon. It appears I am far better at movement than at instruction.”
A short distance away, Mr Darcy had grown notably still.
With Ashford’s careful assistance, Elizabeth made her way back toward the bank. Her relief was evident the moment her skates touched firmer ground, and Mr Darcy stepped forward without hesitation.
“Miss Elizabeth, I could not but notice your footing was far from secure. I hope you suffered no alarm. Skating demands a steadier hand than you appeared to receive.”
Elizabeth coloured slightly but smiled. “I assure you, sir, I am quite unhurt. Captain Ashford did all that was in his power.”
“Doubtless,” Darcy said, his gaze softening. “Yet even the most willing instructor may not supply what experience can.”
Elizabeth looked up at him with a smile, her amusement touched with something warmer.
Jane’s observation of Darcy’s jealousy returned to her.
There was little difficulty in discerning that same sentiment now.
His manner was as guarded as ever, yet the implication of his words was perfectly clear to her.