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One found ways to stay warm in the winter, when one was not fond of the cold and when one’s wife was seemingly impervious to frosty temperatures.
It was not that cold today, Darcy thought, hoping that by sheer force of will he could keep his teeth from chattering. Elizabeth always teased him when his teeth chattered, and though he never minded her jokes, she then felt obligated to cut their walks short and return to the warmth of home, and he was loath to be the reason why she was denied this great pleasure of hers.
So despite the icy wind nipping at ears and nose, stinging his eyes and making them stream, he pressed forward. He had bundled up well for this wintry stroll, so really, only his face was suffering. He could handle worse than this. He was a tall, strapping, healthy young man. A little wind was nothing.
But without intending to, he had picked up his pace, their leisurely amble turning gradually to a brisk sprint. Elizabeth matched him easily, and if there was the tiniest of amused smirks playing at her lips, she kept it well hidden from him.
The walk hadn't been terribly disagreeable, he thought later, from a chair close to the fire. A bracing bout of wintry exercise. He might even do it again tomorrow.
***
Bingley could not be persuaded against the idea of a yearly Christmas Ball, despite his best friend’s determined apathy, and so here Darcy was, in the middle of a ballroom, surrounded by Bingley’s guests, preparing himself to dance.
It was not so bad, when Elizabeth was his partner, when it was her sparkling eyes that met his, her smile that he gazed upon, her hand that he held.
And he could not deny that it kept the cold away. One did not feel the draftiness of the house when one was prancing around like a fool.
“This final pair of dances, my dear,” said Elizabeth as the music started, “and then I will pretend to sprain my ankle. You will be so busy nursing me that you will not have to stand up again.”
“No, no. You must dance as much as you wish, and you must not let me stop you.”
Her eyes glinted with her special brand of mischief. “But what if I have had my fill of dancing and would instead like to sneak off to the library with you?”
Well, perhaps he could resort to trickery, if that was what Elizabeth wanted.
The dance seemed to fly by. It was not his favorite way to keep warm, but he had a suspicion that a better one was soon to follow.
***
He was perhaps a little too warm now, he thought, after that game of snapdragon. Somewhere between the snuffing of the candles and the lighting of the brandy, his competitive nature had been kindled, and he had darted between the flames, grasping at raisins with the best of them. He had always been good at this, even as a boy, and between the rush of the contest and the glow of nostalgia, he had not noticed the cold at all.
Though he might have gotten a little carried away.
Elizabeth smiled at him, eerie but pretty in the dancing blue light. She kissed his smarting fingers, and that was as fine a prize as any other.
***
There was little in life that was better than this, Darcy thought, sitting on the sofa with his wife curled up next to him and a book in his hand. All was cozy and comfortable and quiet; he was content with the world and everything in it. He leaned his head towards Elizabeth’s, resting as it was on his shoulder, and sighed in a satisfied sort of way.
She drifted off at some point, her breathing growing slow and regular, her body draping across his like a blanket. He did not disturb her but let her sleep, maneuvering his book so that he could read it one-handed.
If he was marginally less comfortable now, it was in a paradoxically snug way, and he certainly didn’t mind.
***
Elizabeth did not surprise him beneath the kissing bough so much as ambush him, leaping on him as soon as he passed, twining her fingers through his hair, covering his face and neck in kisses. He responded enthusiastically, as soon as he was sure that he was steady enough to keep them both upright, enjoying the weight of her in his arms and the feel of her lips on his.
“I thought this might warm you up,” she said when they finally pulled away, her eyes twinkling and her smile bright.
“You have certainly helped.”
“But I have not cured you?”
“My dear, it is very cold outside.”
“Well, then, what more can I do to assist you?” she asked, kissing his neck again.
He grabbed her hands, her playfulness catching, and began to lead her towards the stairs. “I have a few ideas,” he said.
“Oh, Mr. Darcy.”