Emma adjusted the position of his muffler. “Happy Christmas, Papa.”
George Knightley offered an arm to his wife. “A happy Christmas indeed.”
“George,” she whispered. “He’ll fall. Is it icy out?”
“I think not. It is frightfully cold.” He opened the door and looked out. The sound of horses and wheels drifted in. “And here we are. Mr. Woodhouse, would you care to lead the way?”
There was a sprightly hop in Mr. Woodhouse’s step. He did not employ his walking stick.
At the threshold, he turned back. “Yes, it is cold, but there is no snow. And as Miss Bates has reminded us, our carriage does have sheepskin. Although,” he added with an impish twinkle, “dear Janie Bennet will need more than that to keep warm.”
“Papa!”
Mr. Woodhouse gave a gentle chuckle and went out into the night.
The carriage made the return from Donwell in less than an hour. As Darcy expected, his mother-in-law was the last to descend to the entrance hall. She would certainly turn heads tonight!
“Now Mary,” said Mrs. Bennet as she came, “if an eligible gentleman shows interest, you must exert yourself. It does no harm to show more affection than you feel.”
“Georgiana and I shall bear one another company,” said Mary primly, “lest any unwelcome strangers encroach. As for fixing a gentleman’s interest, I should say that the same applies to you.”
“Bless me, why?”
“As if you did not know,” said Mary.
Mrs. Bennet changed the subject. “After all the trouble I have been through, it would be a great shame to trip over my hem and tear it.”
She crossed the hall to examine her image in the long looking glass and gave a touch to her hair. Here was no ruffled cap, but a tasteful garland of leaves fashioned in ruby silk.
“I have never worn such an exquisite gown,” said Mrs. Bennet. “Mary and Miss Darcy,” she added kindly, “you also look well. Yes, very well indeed.”
She accepted her cloak from the footman. “I must say, Lizzy, you are beautifully dressed tonight. The bodice of that gown fits you like a glove.”
Darcy was in hearty agreement. He could say the same for Mrs. Bennet—but he did not dare!
He averted his gaze and took hold of Elizabeth’s gloved hand. “Happy Christmas, Mrs. Darcy,” he whispered.
“Fitzwilliam,” she whispered back, “what on earth are we doing? Are we wrong to encourage this match? I cannot bear for her to be unhappy.”
“Not at all, my love. Your mama is as merry as a grig.”
“That is what worries me.”
“She is well able to fend for herself. You and I shall have all we can do to guard Georgiana from young Suckling’s advances.”
“Oh, heavens. I’d forgotten him.”
“It is better said that he should not forget me. Let him push one of his paltry poems onto her or arrange a private tête-à-tête, and he shall feel my wrath.”
Elizabeth gave a delicious gurgle of laughter.
Chapter 13
George Knightley looked about his ancestral home with approving eyes. Holly and candlelight, ivy and the Christmas rose; these combined beautifully to add a festive air. Seldom had Donwell been in finer form. How many years had it been since the ballroom’s enormous chandeliers were lit? This ball was very overdue.
Great fires roared in each hearth, further emphasizing the Christmas season. George could see that his brother had been busy. Suspended over the ballroom’s mantlepieces were generous sprigs of mistletoe.
Guests were now arriving, and the ballroom hummed with conversation. What was it about the holiday season that lifted the spirits? Mr. Woodhouse’s courtship notwithstanding, it was an excellent idea to host this Christmas ball.
The man himself now occupied a seat before the fire, which was hardly a surprise. The chair opposite held his walking stick. Obviously, this was reserved for Mrs. Bennet.
The party from the Highbury vicarage had many an exclamation over the beauty of Donwell. George saw Darcy follow Hervey Suckling like a shadow. There would be no flirtation with Miss Darcy tonight.
George was mindful to greet each of his guests, with many a surreptitious look to Mr. Woodhouse. He ought to be standing with the rest of his family, but the temptation to observe his father-in-law was too much. He watched as Mrs. Suckling approached the hearth where Mr. Woodhouse sat. Her evening gown, a vibrant orange creation, was no doubt in the latest mode.
Without a thought, Mrs. Suckling firmly set the walking stick aside and settled into the reserved chair. George knew that Mr. Woodhouse was too well mannered to reprimand her.
However, when Mrs. Bennet arrived, he surrendered his seat and brought forward another chair for himself. He sat close beside her, rather to Mrs. Suckling’s irritation.
Oho! Had the widowed Mrs. Suckling decided that Henry Woodhouse was fair game? Was she casting her hat into the matchmaking ring? If so, she had another think coming! Janie Bennet looked remarkably well this evening. That gown erased years from her figure—and she knew it.
Presently the musicians tuned their instruments, and a wave of excitement filled the ballroom. La Belle Assemblée March signaled the dancers to take their positions.
There would be no surprises here. By arrangement, Emma and George would open the ball, with Darcy and Georgiana as second couple. Hervey Suckling’s disappointment was unmistakable. Darcy’s wife stood smilingly beside Hervey until he relented and took her as partner. Mr. Coxe led Mary into the set.
The second dance, chosen by George, was a gentle Scotch reel. With many a smile, Mr. Woodhouse and Mrs. Bennet took up their positions. Bonny Highland Laddie was the perfect choice.
As expected, there were many smiles. Yes, the pair created quite the sensation. Mrs. Elton’s expression was sour and so was Hervey’s, for Mr. Coxe had stolen a march on him with Miss Darcy. Politeness demanded that Hervey take Mary Bennet as partner, but he was not happy about it.
At the end of the dance, Mr. Woodhouse and Mrs. Bennet retired to their seats before the fire. The Earl Breadalbain’s Reel was requested by Emma. As planned, Darcy danced with her—right beside Hervey and Miss Darcy. Darcy’s stern gaze was unsmiling, and George saw Hervey stumble several times.
Presently there was a short interval. John strolled up, wearing an expression George recognized. “You look unusually pleased,” he remarked. “How is Mr. Woodhouse faring?”
“Nicely. I have no idea where he is now, but I did see him eyeing the kissing bough. You can thank me later.”
Emma came rushing up. “Where is Papa? I cannot find him anywhere. Do you suppose he has fallen?”
Isabella joined them in time to hear this. “Not at all, dearest,” she said. “Because of the snow, I had Mrs. Hodges order the carriage.”
“Snow?” cried Emma. “What snow?”
“Haven’t you noticed? It has been snowing for the past hour. It is only a very light snowfall. However, Papa and Mrs. Bennet were eager to return to Hartfield before the lane became impassible. I thought it best to put them into the carriage and send them off.”
“Alone?”
“Not alone, Emma. With the driver and a footman.”
John began to laugh. “Well played, my dear. An excellent maneuver.”
“Isabella, how could you? It is Christmas Eve.”
“Well, yes, it is,” said John. “I daresay they never went near the kissing bough, if that is what you are worried about.”
“Do you know what happened to me on Christmas Eve?” cried Emma. “Do you?”
“Unless you tell me, no. Dash it all, I’m not a blasted mind reader.”