Page 19 of Under the Netherfield Mistletoe
Sharing the wedding ceremony with his friend and her sister made it an altogether delightful event. Mr. and Mrs. Bingley were still on the church steps, but they had only a few miles to travel to Netherfield. Darcy and Elizabeth would be going to London, where they would spend a month or two of newlywed joy before traveling to Pemberley when the weather improved.
As if on cue, a few lazy snowflakes drifted down, catching on Elizabeth’s bonnet. She put out her free hand to catch one on her embroidered glove, the very one he had given on her on that fateful Twelfth Night. She looked up at him with an impish smile that would brighten the cloudiest day.
“I believe that is a hint that we should be on the road before it gets any worse, my love,” he said, and helped her up the folding steps into the carriage. He had given orders for warm bricksfor their feet and lap blankets, and he suspected they would be grateful for both.
Or his new bride could keep him warm.
As he stepped up behind her, she said, “If I had seen you smile so widely when we first met, I would have had quite a different impression of you!”
He sat down beside her and arranged the heavy blankets over their legs. “It would not have taken the magical Netherfield mistletoe to make you give me a second look, then?” he teased.
“Or the old-wives-tale mistletoe,” she said with mock austerity.
He laughed. “In either case, I am not complaining. I will be forever grateful for it.” He rapped his cane head on the roof of the carriage.
As it swayed into motion, Elizabeth laid her forefinger against her lips. “The question is…”
“What is it?”
Her lovely eyes danced. “The question is whether it will be just as magical to kiss you when there is no Netherfield mistletoe overhead.”
He placed his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, glad of the wedding ring that finally allowed him to do so. “Well, my love, for the sake of knowledge, perhaps we should find out.”
