Page 19 of Body and Soul (Darcy and Elizabeth Variations #8)

Chapter Nineteen

December 25, 1811 Haye Park Fanny

S he had not played bullet pudding in years! Fanny laughed as Mr. Bingley caused the bullet to drop into the heap of flour. The group gathered around the little table cheered as he put his face into the flour and rooted around for the bullet. He emerged victorious, but white powder clung to his face, eyebrows, and eyelashes.

“Again!” Gertrude Long cried, clapping her hands. “Who will be brave enough to take a large slice?”

Gertrude scooped the flour back into the bowl and then overturned it once more. Carefully, she placed the bullet in the center and picked up the knife. “Who will go first?” she asked.

“I will.” Mr. Bennet stepped forward amidst faces gaping in shock. No one could imagine the proud Mr. Darcy partaking in such a game, but Mr. Thomas Bennet had no qualms. Fanny remembered playing it with him when they were courting and whilst their children were young. He picked up the knife and bravely cut a large slice out of the mound of flour. Everyone gasped at how close the knife came to the bullet, yet it remained.

“Oh, how wonderful!” Gertrude cheered. “Mr. Darcy, I did not know you were so capable.” She batted her eyelashes, and Fanny bristled. How dare she flirt with another woman’s husband! Oh yes, she reminded herself. Mr. Darcy is unmarried. Still, it rankled. Mr. Darcy favored Elizabeth with his attentions, anyway, so it might have been that he was married.

“F-Miss Elizabeth, would you care to go next?” Thomas offered her the knife, and she took it, relishing the little thrill she felt touching his fingers. “I shall get it closer,” she announced, winking saucily at him. “Wait and see, Mr. Darcy.” She brandished the knife and made a great show of cutting the flour. Everyone held their breath.

The bullet hovered half on and half off the pile of flour. After thirty seconds, it had not fallen, and everyone cheered. Fanny relished the attention and held the knife up. “Who wishes to be next?” she asked. “Is there a brave soul who will make the attempt? You will likely end covered in flour!” People laughed and nudged each other, but no one stepped forward.

“I believe you and I ought to have a friendly competition, Miss Elizabeth.” Thomas smirked. “Let us see which of us will make the bullet fall.” He took the proffered knife, and this time sliced a much smaller section off the flour. “To make it more interesting,” he said at her inquiring glance.

“Very well, sir, you have a bargain.” Cheers went up again, and Fanny took the knife. The chunk of flour she cut away was larger than his, but did nothing to disturb the bullet, which was already balanced precariously half on and half off the flour. “If it falls, whomever is holding the knife is the loser,” she said, handing it back to him.

Nodding, Thomas cut another bit of flour. By now, the bullet stood on a column of the white powder. Nervously licking her lips, she moved to where the bullet teetered unsteadily. With precision, she sliced down the side of the column. Flour dropped to the bottom of the pan, but the bullet stayed balanced.

Triumphantly, she handed him the knife. He looks a little nervous, she realized. It endeared him to her further, and she watched as he, too, removed more flour, leaving the bullet in place.

“You two are the best players I have ever seen!” Mr. Bingley cried. “Surely, the next slice will send the bullet tumbling.”

Not if I can help it, sir. Fanny examined the pillar of flour. There was a spot where she thought she could make another slice without upsetting the bullet, and she lifted the knife. Hand shaking, she cut. The flour tumbled to the tray and at first the bullet did not move. Everyone watched with bated breath as it trembled.

Fanny tried to hand Thomas the knife, knowing it would fall, but before he could accept it, the bullet tumbled into the pile of flour. Their onlookers cheered loudly, yelling at her to fetch it out of the mess.

“I shall do the honors,” Thomas said boldly. “We cannot have Miss Elizabeth spoiling her lovely gown.” Winking, he put his hands behind his back and buried his face in the white desert of flour. He emerged with the bullet between his teeth, eliciting more cheers from those gathered around.

She clapped along with the others, secretly flattered her husband was willing to drench himself in flour for her sake. As the others arranged the game again, he led her away. Having wiped much of the white powder from his face, there was a dusting in his hair and on his eyebrows. She reached up and brushed it away, her hand lingering in his hair before dropping to her side.

“My gallant hero,” she murmured. Fanny did not see Mr. Darcy when she looked. No, she saw the Thomas Bennet she remembered, the man from years ago who had wooed her and won her heart. Her love for him, long dormant, had exploded, flowering into something more beautiful than she could ever have imagined.

“I hope you know, dearest, that I do not intend to be anything else ever again.” He took her hand and kissed it. “I have been the villain in your story for too long.”

“What sort of book is it where the hero becomes the villain and then the hero again?” she quipped. “And is ours a gothic novel?”

He shook his head. “No, ours is a great epic, equal to that of King Arthur. And the conclusion has yet to be written.” Kissing her hand again, he asked, “Will you write it with me?”

“Oh, Thomas,” she sighed happily. “Of course.”

Elizabeth

“It seems you have been keeping secrets, Mrs. Bennet.” Mrs. Goulding sidled up to Elizabeth, her face puckered in what she assumed was supposed to be a smile. “How long has Mr. Darcy been calling on your Elizabeth?”

“Hmm?” she said distractedly. “What was that you said?” She had watched the bullet pudding game with great interest after Sir William drew away her husband—Mr. Darcy, that is.

“Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy! Why, I have never been more shocked in my life. All of us thought he quite disliked her. What was that he had said about her at the assembly—tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt him, or something of the sort? Now, I must have your secrets. How could you have induced the man to give two straws about a woman he so disparaged?” Mrs. Goulding folded her arms and waited expectantly.

“Whatever makes you think I had anything to do with their courtship?” she asked, genuinely bemused.

“You always have something to do with courtships.” Mrs. Goulding tapped her foot impatiently. “We all thought he had gone away and then suddenly he and Mr. Bingley were back again! I suppose you will say he could not help himself, thrown into the path of your daughter as Mr. Darcy surely has been. He has accompanied his friend to Longbourn, I assume.”

“Yes, Mr. Darcy has been a frequent visitor to my home.” She sipped her punch, smirking as she thought about just how much time the man had spent at Longbourn lately. “He and Lizzy are well-matched.”

“You said that about Mr. Bingley and your Jane, too. What is it about Bennet women that so enthralls men? Why can you not leave any for the rest of the young ladies?” Mrs. Goulding’s laugh was brittle and a little hysterical.

Elizabeth turned to the lady and raised an eyebrow. “If you imply that my daughters have employed underhanded means to gain the affection of worthy gentlemen, then you would be mistaken. They have done nothing but behave like themselves. I could hardly force Mr. Darcy or Mr. Bingley to pay court to my girls. Heaven knows, many a matchmaking mama has tried! Now, if you will excuse me, I believe I have need of more punch.” She walked away, well aware that her glass was still half full.

Lady Lucas found her next. “Is there an understanding between Eliza and Mr. Darcy?” she asked in an excited whisper. “I saw him kiss her hand just now, and she blushed from her ears to her toes!”

Very good, Papa, Elizabeth thought, proud that her father made such successful overtures with her mother. “There is an understanding of sorts,” she hedged. “It is not official yet, but we have every hope that Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy will soon reach an agreement.” Her mother and father had better, for Elizabeth longed to make things official with Mr. Darcy.

“How lovely for your family! Oh, how blessed we are, Mrs. Bennet! Charlotte will be married in January and I believe I heard Jane mention March for her nuptials. What about Mr. Darcy and your second daughter? Will they marry soon afterwards?” Lady Lucas fairly bounced with excitement.

Chuckling, Elizabeth patted her arm. “Jane and Lizzy have always wished for a double wedding. We shall see if such a thing takes place. Mr. Darcy’s family is very highly placed in society and they may wish for a grand affair.” Seeking to act more like her mother, she leaned in closely. “He is the nephew of an earl, did you know? His uncle is the Earl of Matlock!”

Lady Lucas gasped. “No! I had no idea. Oh, what a blessing for your girls! I am certain he will be instrumental in throwing them in the path of other rich men.”

Hearing her mother’s words made her wince internally. “I will be pleased as long as they are all happy and well-settled.” Hopefully, that was enough to satisfy Lady Lucas’s exuberance.

Mrs. Long spoke to her next, quietly commenting on what a charming couple Darcy and Lizzy made. Elizabeth nodded gratefully and then departed in search of Darcy or a quiet space to think…or both. After a few moments of searching, she did not find him and so made her way to a quiet alcove just off the drawing room. Elizabeth leaned against a wall and sighed, wondering if things would ever be normal again. She meant only being back in her body, for she quite liked the positive changes happening at Longbourn and in her life. Her parents seemed happier, and she felt as though they would soon reach an understanding.

More than anything, she longed to tell Mr. Darcy that she loved him. He would have to speak first and though she had thought he would speak more than once, something always held him back. There was nothing for it now, anyway. Even if he did not love her, when they returned to their respective bodies, they would marry. After so many marked comments about their ‘courtship,’ how could they do anything less?

“There you are!” He came to her as if summoned by her thoughts. “I wondered where you had gone.” He took her hand and kissed it. “Why are you hiding? It seems more like something that I would engage in—hiding from the company, that is.”

Elizabeth sighed. “I needed a moment to myself,” she confessed. “There has been much talk tonight about you and me—or rather, my mother and father posing as you and me. If we ever wished to part ways when this entire debacle concludes, I believe we have missed our chance.”

“Do you wish to walk away?” he asked quietly, stroking her hand with his thumb.

“No! No, I do not wish it,” she said earnestly. “Indeed, I can no longer imagine my life without you in it. You are the first person I think about when I wake up, and the last thought in my mind before I fall asleep at night. I am more than ready to start our future, yet we are stuck in this precarious position, trapped somewhere between a lawful marriage and a life of sin.”

“That is an interesting way of putting it,” he said. “I must say, I feel the same way about you. I have patiently awaited the day when things are set to right. It will not be long now, but every morning that I wake up and nothing has changed, my heart falls. I cannot repine spending my days in your company, however, and so I try to be grateful to have that.”

“I agree completely.” She smiled and squeezed his hand gently. “I suppose I ought to be better at looking for the positives in our strange situation.”

“It has been very strange indeed. Shall we return to our friends?” He held out his arm, and she released his hand, taking it and allowing him to lead her back to the party.

When they returned to Longbourn, the Netherfield party accompanied them. Papa discreetly handed Mr. Darcy some parcels, whispering that they had arrived from the north the day before.

“I did not know if you wanted them now or wished to wait until…” Mr. Bennet trailed off, shrugging. Mr. Darcy thanked him and tucked them away to be opened in privacy. It would not do for others to see ‘Mr. Bennet’ opening strange parcels.

Mr. Bingley presented Jane with an elaborate set of matching jewelry. There was a bracelet, necklace, earrings, and a box of hairpins, all made of sapphires and pearls. Jane, in turn, gifted Mr. Bingley a new blue waistcoat and a watch fob.

Mama and Papa secreted themselves in a corner of the room, exchanging gifts where none could watch. Darcy, too, took Elizabeth aside and gave her a lovely novel that she had never before read, written by A Lady. She nervously gave him the watch fob that contained a lock of her hair. The maker had fashioned the lock into delicate scrolls, arranging it on a gold background. The effect was excellent, and Darcy thanked her fervently.

When the hour grew late, the Netherfield party made ready to depart. As they enjoyed each other’s company, snow had fallen and now there was so much that the carriages could not possibly make it back to Netherfield Park that night. Offers of lodgings were readily forthcoming, and no one complained about the arrangement. Jane could not be more pleased, and Mama looked as though the cat had got the cream. She leaned close and whispered something to Mr. Bennet. He grinned and winked at her, making Elizabeth wonder what sort of secret they exchanged.

Lydia had joined them for the evening and eventually she, Kitty and Mary went to bed, followed by Mrs. Bingley. They had given Mrs. Bingley one of the guest rooms, and she retired for the night after being assured that ‘Mr. and Mrs. Bennet’ would chaperone the other couples. The irony did not escape Elizabeth’s notice.

Jane and Mr. Bingley spoke until the early hours of the morning before finally going to bed. Mama and Papa had fallen asleep on the settee, holding hands. Mama’s head leaned against his shoulder and she looked very content.

That left Darcy and Elizabeth, the chaperones. They, too, talked until the fire died down before going to bed. Their age, unlike the other couples, prevented them from sleeping outside their comfortable beds.

He bid her goodnight at her door, gently kissing her hand. “Goodnight, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.”

As she drifted off to sleep, the storm raged outside, and Elizabeth thought she heard a rumble of thunder.