Chapter 15
Growing Attachments
The first true snow of the season arrived three days later.
Elizabeth woke to pale winter light and a Longbourn transformed beneath white. The lawns glittered untouched beyond the windows, the hedgerows softened into uneven drifts, and every branch along the lane carried a silver burden delicate enough to disappear by afternoon should the weather warm.
The household responded precisely as expected.
Thomas and Toby nearly broke their necks racing downstairs before breakfast.
Lydia demanded permission to walk soon after luncheon.
Kitty declared the grounds picturesque.
Mary observed that excessive enthusiasm for snow generally diminished after prolonged exposure to it.
Mr. Bennet announced from behind his newspaper that wisdom had at last entered the breakfast room.
Mrs. Bennet ignored all of them and instructed the servants to lay additional fires before anyone caught a chill.
Elizabeth stood near the window smiling despite herself while the twins argued passionately regarding fortifications.
“We need walls first,” Toby insisted.
“A proper fortress requires elevation,” Thomas countered.
“Snowballs from above travel farther.”
“That is because you throw badly.”
“I do not throw badly.”
“You absolutely throw badly.”
Mrs. Bennet set down her teacup. “Gentlemen.”
The twins ceased instantly.
For approximately ten seconds.
Then Toby leaned toward Elizabeth and whispered loudly, “Thomas cheats at battles.”
“I do not.”
“You absolutely do.”
Elizabeth laughed and reached down to smooth Toby’s hair where it stood wildly from sleep. “You may continue your military planning after breakfast.”
Mrs. Bennet sighed. “Heaven preserve the shrubbery.”
By noon, Longbourn was bursting with callers.
The Lucases arrived first, Charlotte wrapped in dark blue wool and Lady Lucas already lamenting the cold while admitting the countryside looked beautiful.
Netherfield followed shortly afterward. Bingley entered cheerfully flushed from the ride, Miss Bingley considerably less pleased by the mud gathering beneath carriage wheels, and Darcy—
Elizabeth became increasingly annoyed by how quickly she noticed him now.
He removed his gloves while speaking to Mr. Bennet, snow still melting against the shoulders of his dark coat. The cold suited him unfairly well. Something about winter sharpened his already serious expression into greater distinction.
Miss Bingley noticed Elizabeth noticing him. That awareness arrived quickly and with uncomfortable clarity. She smiled all sweetness afterward.
Elizabeth distrusted it at once.
Mr. Wilson appeared not long after the party from Netherfield, bringing with him enough energy for three gentlemen and immediate praise for the weather despite visible discomfort with the cold.
“This reminds me of winters at home,” he declared while warming his hands near the fire. “Though there the snow turns gray by noon from the mills.”
“That sounds grim,” Kitty said.
“It is practical,” Mr. Wilson corrected.
Darcy said nothing. Elizabeth noticed his attention sharpen slightly at the remark.
Mrs. Bennet proposed a walk before the weather worsened further, and the entire company prepared accordingly. Cloaks appeared. Boots were fetched. Lydia nearly forgot her gloves until Mary forced them into her hands.
During the confusion Thomas and Toby vanished.
Elizabeth noticed. Unfortunately, she noticed too late.
The party set out together along the lane bordering Longbourn’s lower field.
Snow crunched beneath boots while breath clouded pale in the cold air.
Bingley attached himself happily beside Jane.
Kitty and Lydia ranged ahead throwing loose handfuls of snow at one another despite repeated warnings from Mrs. Bennet.
Mr. Wilson claimed Elizabeth’s other side before she could avoid it.
“You prefer the country in winter too?” he asked.
Her response was neutral. “I prefer Longbourn in every season.”
“A loyal answer.” Mr. Wilson seemed to approve.
“It is a truthful one.”
Darcy walked only a few paces behind with Charlotte Lucas and Miss Bingley. Elizabeth remained aware of him anyway.
The lane curved gradually toward the lower meadow where an old wooden gate separated the main path from pastureland beyond. The twins stood waiting beside it with expressions of remarkable innocence.
Elizabeth slowed instinctively.
That alone should have warned her.
“Lizzy!” Toby called. “Come see the pond!”
“There are tracks,” Thomas added mysteriously.
“Wolf tracks,” Toby whispered.
“There are no wolves in Hertfordshire—indeed, I do not believe there are wolves in all of England.”
“That is exactly what wolves want people to believe.”
Before Elizabeth could properly respond, the twins darted ahead toward the frozen pond beyond the meadow gate.
Lydia shrieked with laughter and chased after them.
Mrs. Bennet called sharply for caution while Mr. Bennet, with considerably less alarm, called after the boys to preserve at least one heir between them.
Everything afterward seemed to occur at the same time.
Thomas reached the gate first, only for the latch to come loose in his hand.
The gate swung violently backward with enough force to send Miss Bingley crying out in alarm while Mr. Wilson lunged awkwardly aside to avoid being struck.
Charlotte lost her footing on the packed snow in the confusion and collided directly into Darcy just as Mr. Bingley attempted simultaneously to steady Jane and catch Miss Lucas before she fell.
Lydia dissolved into helpless laughter so intense she nearly lost her own footing, while the twins, apparently oblivious to the chaos left in their wake, continued racing toward the pond at alarming speed.
And through the center of the chaos the twins vanished toward the pond at alarming speed.
“Thomas!” Mrs. Bennet called sharply. “Stay away from the ice!”
Darcy moved swiftly.
So did Elizabeth.
Neither stopped to discuss it.
By the time they crossed the meadow, the twins had reached the pond’s edge where Toby leaned dangerously far across the partially frozen surface attempting to retrieve what appeared to be a hat blown from someone’s head during the confusion.
“Do not move,” Elizabeth called.
Toby froze. The ice beneath him cracked loudly.
Darcy reached the boys first while Elizabeth caught Thomas by the sleeve just as he attempted another heroic advance.
“You are not helping,” she informed him breathlessly.
“But Toby—”
“Will survive.”
Darcy crouched carefully near the edge. “Toby. Step backward slowly.”
The boy obeyed instantly.
Elizabeth realized with some surprise that the twins listened to Darcy more readily than most adults, perhaps because he spoke to them seriously without any sign of the usual dismissiveness others displayed.
Darcy reached out steadily until Toby grasped his hand. One careful pull later the boy stumbled safely back onto solid ground.
Elizabeth exhaled.
Mrs. Bennet and the others reached them moments later.
Miss Bingley appeared appalled.
Lady Lucas appeared exhausted.
Mr. Wilson seemed both irritated and winded.
Darcy remained crouched beside Toby, examining one wet boot where the boy had partially slipped through melting ice near the bank.
“You are fortunate,” he said calmly.
Toby lowered his head appropriately. “Yes, sir.”
Thomas shifted guiltily beside Elizabeth. “It was my fault.”
“No,” Toby answered. “Mine.”
Darcy glanced between them. “Then you may share responsibility equally.”
The twins accepted this judgment with surprising solemnity.
Elizabeth knelt to adjust Toby’s cloak more securely around him. “What possessed you both?”
“There was a hat,” Thomas explained weakly.
“It belonged to Lydia,” Toby added.
Lydia was delighted. “It did!”
Mrs. Bennet closed her eyes in resignation.
Darcy’s mouth twitched.
Elizabeth saw it and nearly laughed herself despite everything.
The absurdity of the entire scene fell gradually over the company afterward while everyone turned back toward Longbourn. Snow clung to hems. Kitty still giggled periodically. Mr. Bennet appeared deeply entertained beneath outward concern.
And somehow, without arrangement or discussion, Elizabeth and Darcy fell into step beside one another while the others spread loosely ahead and behind.
Neither spoke. The silence felt easy. Comfortable.
Elizabeth found herself more disturbed by the realization than the situation warranted.
At last Darcy said quietly, “Your brothers possess remarkable talent for catastrophe.”
Elizabeth laughed. “You are very generous to call it talent.”
“I assure you, accidental chaos rarely displays such consistency.”
“They mean well.”
“I know.”
The simple certainty in his voice warmed her unexpectedly.
Elizabeth glanced toward him. “Most people find them exhausting.”
“Most people fail to listen to them.”
That answer surprised her enough to halt briefly in the snow.
Darcy slowed. “They are clever boys,” he continued. “Exceptionally so. Mischievous certainly, but observant. They notice more than adults realize.”
Elizabeth regarded at him attentively then.
Because he truly understood them.
Not in an indulgent fashion. Not dismissively. Simply accurately.
“They adore you,” she admitted after a moment.
Darcy seemed genuinely startled.
“That seems unlikely.”
“It is perfectly true.”
“Why?”
Elizabeth regarded him with something akin to respect. “You speak to them as though their thoughts matter.”
Something changed briefly in his expression.
Ahead of them Bingley and Jane drifted farther along the lane, deep in conversation. Behind, Miss Bingley complained to Charlotte regarding wet hems while Wilson attempted agreement and Lady Lucas demanded hot tea the instant they returned indoors.
Without fully meaning to, Elizabeth and Darcy became separated from the group.
The realization arrived only once the others rounded a bend partially obscured by snow-heavy hedges.
Elizabeth should perhaps have hurried forward.
Instead she continued walking beside him.