Chapter 4 part 2
The thought shocked her, veritably curling her toes within her boots and she flushed before giving him a genuine smile. He merely tilted his head, studying her quietly.
He means only to be flattering, and perhaps kind, Elizabeth assured herself, but could not escape the feeling that she might be mistaken. Or at least hoped that she might be, for her heart had taken up a quicker rhythm, and for a moment she almost forgot how to breathe.
Another look at Darcy convinced her of his sincerity, for when he looked at her, she could have sworn that if ever one's eyes were laughing, his were. It was this inclination that brought a glow to her heart, and yet, she could scarcely believe that it was happening.
Mr. Darcy is not romantically interested in me, she silently lectured herself as she forced her head to turn, glancing instead out the window at the snow-covered landscape. He wished to sit beside me only because I am the one that asked him to come along on this outing, not because he has a special regard for me. Indeed, that is nearly as preposterous as the idea that he might enjoy himself at the Netherfield ball, when he has so clearly set himself against it. It would take a Christmas miracle to ensure that occurrence, and while I may be able to provide mistletoe, I am no miracle worker. Still though, it would be nice to simply enjoy it, if only I was not certain that he will most likely be leaving after the holidays. He has given no inclination that he would stay in Meryton after Christmas, and I overheard him tell Caroline that he needs to go south to Kent as soon as possible after the holiday. This is his first Christmas away from his sister, who wished very much to spend it in Rosings Park with their cousin, Anne.
Her musings thus dampened her enthusiasm, but did much to help her keep a clear head when presented with the fact that Mr. Darcy was very close to her side indeed, and in truth his warmth had seeped through her coat, leaving her much aware of his presence.
"Tell me, Mr. Collins, do you find the tradition of mistletoe to be at odds with your church training?" Charlotte asked, drawing Elizabeth's attention.
This, of course, set Mr. Collins into a long monologue about the use of mistletoe by pagan societies and the meanings that had been ascribed to the plant. It turned out that Mr. Collins was quite well-educated upon the subject and made several inroads into the cultures of both Celts and Vikings by the time the carriages left the roadway and ventured onto the untrampled lane that led to the Miller farm.
This arrested the conversation entirely, for Elizabeth was called upon to verify that they were on the correct road. She verified that they were, and Darcy took advantage of the lull in conversation to ask with some interest, "So tell me how it came to pass that this good farmer will allow you the luxury of these woods, yet he permits no one else?"
Elizabeth blushed and murmured something noncommittal about once doing his family a service, but it was Mary who truly answered, bringing all eyes to her visage. Indeed, they had mostly forgotten that she was there until this moment, with the possible exception of Mr. Darcy, who was seated beside her.
"Lizzy acted as nursemaid to Mrs. Miller through a very difficult illness two summers ago, until she finally passed. Mr. Miller fully credits Lizzy with the survival of his children, as none of them grew ill and she kept them all fed when their mother could not get out of bed."
It was painfully obvious to all except Mary that this blunt recounting of the situation, and in such succinct terms, had shocked the male members of her audience. Charlotte, of course already knew the story, and thus it was not a surprise. However, death was not typically treated with such casual disregard in higher society.
Mr. Darcy's expression tightened and he averted his gaze to some distant point above Mr. Collins' head that only he seemed able to perceive. Elizabeth cringed inwardly, though she did not show it.
"It was not nearly half as noble as all of that," Elizabeth objected with a sharp glance at her younger sister. "I only came to visit as often as I was able, and brought what things that would assist Mr. Miller in feeding his young ones through a difficult time."
Unintimidated by the glare, Mary huffed in disbelief and argued, "You purchased and brought them foodstuffs from the market, helped to prepare their meals since they haven't a cook, taught the younger ones how to wash and dry their own clothes, tidied up after them and even slept beside Mrs. Miller's sickbed when she was in her final days, that her husband and children would not have to bear the awful results of her illness alone. She even," Mary directed her whispered final words at Mr. Collins and Darcy, "washed Mrs. Miller's hair, that she might feel more like herself even when she could not."
"Mary!" Elizabeth and Charlotte chastised her at the same moment, their voices blending as one. "That is not proper conversation, and the gentlemen would not like to be subjected to the details of a dying woman's washing!" Charlotte finished with a blush.
Mortified, Elizabeth wished nothing more than to die of embarrassment herself. She did not want Mr. Darcy to think of her washing anyone's hair, much less a stranger's. It was simply undignified.
Luck was with them for at that moment the carriage drew to a halt in front of the farmhouse and a tumble of children flew through the door to greet them. Thankful for the distraction, Elizabeth threw the carriage door open nearly before it had stopped rolling and flung herself from its interior in her haste to escape the conversation. The Miller children crowed in delight and ran to her, throwing their arms about her waist.
She hugged each of them back in turn, apologizing that she had not been to see them in some time. Mr. Miller's new wife greeted her from the doorway with a wave, and Mr. Miller simply watched the procession with a smile. For Elizabeth's part, she took perhaps longer than necessary with her happy hellos, for she held a certain fondness for them and was thankful to see them looking so well. It had nothing at all to do with the pensive look that Mr. Darcy had given her upon the completion of Mary's story, or so she told herself.
The remaining occupants of the carriage disembarked and came to stand beside Elizabeth in the chilly air, waiting their turns for introductions. Elizabeth hastily made them, then explained what they were about.
"I have no objection to you searching the woods for whatever you like, Miss Bennet. I think there are several likely places that you might find a patch or two, but the children would know better than I. Tom!" Mr. Miller called his oldest son over, a young boy of about fourteen or so. "Tom, Miss Bennet would like your assistance in collecting mistletoe for her ball. Show her where the best patches are, all right?"
The boy agreed easily enough and was soon bounding back out of the house, dressed in his warmest clothes.
"It's just in the big old copse of woods on the other side of the pond, beyond the pasture, Miss Lizzy. I think I showed you the one back when Ma was alive."
Caroline heard him from her spot beside the fire, having already been seated and poured a cup of fortifying hot tea. "That far? Charles, I thought it would be already cut for us and we simply had to pick it up! I simply cannot ruin this hem by traipsing through the woods, all in search of some silly leaves! This is a footman's job, not mine!"
She turned her head away, dismissing the very notion of going herself.
"You and the other ladies are welcome to wait here by the fire while the gentlemen fetch the decorations they are looking for," Mrs. Miller offered generously.
Caroline eagerly agreed and the sentiment was shared by Mary, whose thin frame was already shivering from the walk between the carriage and house. Jane had to be urged to remain inside as well, and only agreed once Bingley came forward and asked her to do so as a special favor to him, since she had so recently been ill. A little stunned by the forcefulness of his objection, she sank meekly onto the settee, all in agreement to such a suggestion. Elizabeth nearly laughed to see her sister suddenly so demure, as Jane never would have given in so easily had Elizabeth asked such a thing.
She thanked Mr. and Mrs. Miller for their hospitality, then joined the rest of the group outside. Already Lydia and Kitty were racing through the snow, pausing to throw snowballs at the Miller children who responded back with violent glee, precipitating quite the war on that particular hillside.
"You do not mind the cold walk through the snow?" Darcy asked as he took Elizabeth's arm to help her over the stile into the field beyond.
"Why would I?" she laughed, and wondered from his expression if he had suddenly recalled another such walk that had taken her to Netherfield not that long ago, after her sister had fallen ill. Granted, it had not been snowing at the time, but snow and rain were simply the same thing in different forms.
"Why would you indeed?" he responded. There was a hint of approval in his tone.
Elizabeth blushed and looked away, pretending interest in what her sisters were doing, though it was nearly impossible to divert her attention when he spoke like that. At least this version of Mr. Darcy, while confusing, was not the morose creature that he had been since Christmas was first mentioned. Indeed, the different aspects of his personality were fascinating, and she found herself desiring to understand all of them, but most of all, the happy, laughing man that he had been on the street in Meryton.
Now if only she could convince that portion of him that the coming Christmas was something to be anticipate with eagerness, and not something to dread, as he believed the rest of the time.