The Scotsman’s Ghost: or How to Wreck a Yule Party (Christmas With Darcy and Elizabeth)

16. Sixteen

Sixteen

Elizabeth

I glanced over my shoulder as I scurried away. Mr. Darcy was still standing by the punch table, his eyes fixed on the far wall, his back far too rigid for someone who had just offered me a drink. I suppose that was technically what had happened, though what I’d actually seen left me questioning whether I should ever accept a refreshment from him again.

That glass… it had floated . I was certain of it.

I’d stared at it, wide-eyed, not even bothering to hide my shock. And when I looked at Mr. Darcy, all he could do was stare back, his expression nearly as bewildered as mine. He hadn’t said a word, hadn’t even tried to explain himself, and yet I knew he had seen it too. That ridiculous glass of punch had hovered between us, as though it were suspended by invisible hands.

And I knew it was real because I had touched it. Lifted it from the shelf of air upon which it had rested and set it back on a firm surface.

My heart was still galloping like a runaway team. I’d swallowed the rest of my drink as quickly as possible and then fled—not because I was afraid of him exactly, but because... well, what had just happened?

Now, standing on the fringes of the ballroom, I glanced around, trying to steady my breathing. No one else seemed to have noticed. There was no frantic whispering, no murmured gossip about floating drinks. Just the same endless swirl of gowns, polite laughter, and music.

“Lizzy, are you quite all right?” Charlotte’s voice broke through the fog in my head as she appeared beside me, her brow furrowed in concern.

“Am I all right?” I repeated, blinking at her. “Yes. No. I don’t know.”

Charlotte gave me a look, half puzzled, half amused. “You’ve gone pale. What happened?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but what was I supposed to say? That I’d just witnessed a glass of punch floating through the air? That Mr. Darcy might actually be possessed by some unseen spirit? She would think I’d lost my mind.

“I... don’t know,” I muttered. “Something strange.”

“Strange?” Charlotte repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Mr. Darcy again?”

I hesitated, the image of that floating glass still fresh in my mind. “How did you guess? Yes... no. I mean, it’s just—he’s—oh, I don’t know what to think!”

“Mr. Darcy always seems a little strange,” Charlotte said with a shrug. “But he’s hardly dangerous.”

“I don’t think he’s dangerous,” I said quickly, though I wasn’t sure why I was defending him. “He’s just... odd. Very odd.”

Charlotte gave me a skeptical look, but before she could question me further, another voice cut in.

“Well, Miss Bennet,” came Lieutenant Wickham’s smooth tones as he approached, all charm and smiles, “you’ve been quite the object of attention this evening. I daresay you’ve caused Mr. Darcy no end of confusion on the dance floor.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Mr. Darcy? Confused?”

Wickham’s smile widened, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yes, it seems he’s rather easily thrown off balance, wouldn’t you say?”

“Thrown off balance.” That was one way of putting it.

I stared at him, trying to make sense of what he was implying. “Mr. Wickham, I am becoming truly concerned about our neighbor. The man has… troubles. Deep, serious troubles.”

“That is not quite correct,” Mr. Wickham said slowly, his gaze sharp. “More accurately, Mr. Darcy has secrets. Dark ones. And sometimes, Miss Bennet, those secrets start to show.”

My stomach knotted. Dark secrets? Was Mr. Wickham suggesting what I thought he was?

I shook my head, trying to dismiss the absurd notion, but I couldn’t shake the image of that floating glass. Had I imagined it? Was there some explanation I had missed? Or was Mr. Wickham right? Could Mr. Darcy truly be hiding something more... sinister?

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said, though my voice sounded less certain than I’d hoped.

Mr. Wickham smiled faintly, almost as though he pitied me. “I hope, for your sake, that you never find out.”

A chill crept down my spine, and I glanced once more toward the spot where Mr. Darcy had vanished. Whatever was happening with him, it wasn’t just awkwardness or arrogance. There was something much stranger going on, something I hadn’t even begun to understand.

Charlotte cleared her throat. “Shall we take some air, Lizzy? You look like you could use it.”

I nodded, still half-distracted by my racing thoughts. “Yes... yes, I think I could.”

As we made our way toward the terrace, I cast one last glance back toward the refreshment table, half-expecting to see that cursed glass floating in mid-air again.

Nothing. Just the usual swirl of the ball, people chatting, laughing, unaware of the absurdity that had unfolded only moments ago.

But I knew what I’d seen. And whatever it was that haunted Mr. Darcy, it wasn’t finished with him yet.

“ M iss Elizabeth,” Mr. Collins began, clearing his throat in that pompous, slightly phlegmy way he always did before launching into a speech. “I must confess that there is a matter of great... importance I have been meaning to discuss with you.”

I already knew what he was about. He’d been loitering around me all morning like a moth around a candle, and I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, what he had in mind. His manners were, after all, far from subtle. He had been building to this moment ever since he’d set foot in Longbourn. The way he looked at me as if I were a prize ham at a village fair—it was impossible to miss.

But there was absolutely no way I was going to let him get started on whatever speech he’d been rehearsing in his head. Not if I had anything to say about it.

“Oh, Mr. Collins,” I interrupted, feigning a sudden, dramatic realization, “how careless of me. I forgot to mention something terribly important.”

His mouth hung open, words unsaid, but I pressed on. “It’s about my... my clumsiness, you see.” I sighed deeply, looking mournfully toward the ceiling, as if my very existence were a burden. “You are a parson, are you not? You hear confessions from burdened souls, I imagine?”

His mouth closed, and he smiled. “But of course, fair cousin. And how may ease your cares? For the confession of sins, one to another, is one of the finest tenets of our faith—it keeps one pure, you see.”

“Ah. Well, then, I fear I must confess to the sins of envy and pride.”

He tilted his head and eased into a chair—regardless of the fact that I was still standing. Not to be dissuaded, I chose a seat nearby. “And… upon what matter does this… envy of yours trouble you, Cousin?” he asked.

“Oh, it vexes me in so many ways, I’ve hardly had the time to count them,” I gushed. “Especially now that I’ve seen how elegant all the other ladies in town are. I cannot help but feel entirely inadequate compared to them. Just yesterday, I tripped over a perfectly flat carpet, and as for my handwriting, well... it’s barely legible. I’m hopeless, really. What chance have I, clumsy as I am, to compare with the refined young women you must meet elsewhere?”

Mr. Collins blinked at me, thoroughly perplexed. He had clearly prepared for many scenarios, but self-sabotage wasn’t one of them. “Miss Elizabeth, surely you don’t mean to suggest—”

“But I do!” I insisted, my voice tinged with just the right amount of dramatic despair. “I’m afraid I lack the grace, the... je ne sais quoi that makes a woman truly attractive. The other ladies in Meryton—so elegant, so poised! And yet here I am, a poor imitation of refinement.” I shook my head sadly. “It must be a disappointment for you, I’m sure.”

He stared, trying to digest this unexpected detour. “N-no, Miss Elizabeth. You mustn’t be so... harsh on yourself. Lady Catherine herself has often remarked that—”

“Oh, Lady Catherine!” I exclaimed, cutting him off again. “She would take one look at me and instantly know what a disaster I am. Imagine! What would she say if she saw me falling flat on my face on the skating pond in Meryton?”

“Skating pond?” Mr. Collins repeated, his face blank.

“Yes!” I said, my voice rising with a sudden burst of inspiration. I glanced out the window and spotted my younger sisters, Lydia and Kitty, happily trudging along with their skates in hand. “You see, our housekeeper returned from Meryton only this morning with the news that the ladies in town are already out on the ice. My sisters were just heading there themselves! Oh, Mr. Collins, I cannot think of a better opportunity for you to see for yourself just how clumsy I really am.”

Mr. Collins’ mouth opened, then closed again. I could practically see the cogs turning in his mind. On one hand, I had just given him an excuse to avoid the unpleasant task of proposing to me. On the other, skating was undoubtedly an activity of dubious grace, and as a gentleman of good breeding, he probably hadn’t the faintest idea what to do with a pair of skates. The thought of watching me fall and flounder, however, seemed to intrigue him.

“Er... Miss Elizabeth,” he began, “I—I must admit I’ve never skated myself, but if you wish for me to accompany you—”

“Oh, but you must!” I declared, doing my very best to look pathetic. “I insist! After all, how could you possibly make a well-informed decision about my—er— suitability without first making a fair comparison to other ladies? Dancing—why, anyone can accomplish that, but it takes a true lady of breeding to master the art of skating well.”

His brow furrowed, and I saw the hesitation creep into his expression. He was starting to second-guess himself. “Well... I suppose... if it’s what you truly wish...”

“Oh, it is!” I assured him, already heading toward the door. “We shall meet the ladies in town, and you’ll see for yourself how little I possess in the way of grace or charm. My only fear is that you’ll find far more accomplished ladies there who would be much more suitable for a man of your standing.”

Mr. Collins’ mouth flapped open, but no sound came out. I could tell he was grappling with the confusion of having a woman practically reject herself before he’d even had the chance to offer. But his feet shuffled toward the door, and I knew he was hooked.

With a grin hidden safely from his view, I grabbed my shawl, thinking to myself how fortunate it would be if he took a fall on the ice. And, if I was especially lucky, perhaps he’d break something important—perhaps even his tongue.

Darcy

“ D arcy, you look dreadful.” Bingley’s voice dragged me out of my stupor. I hadn’t realized I’d been staring into the empty hearth, my mind stuck replaying every humiliating moment from the ball the night before.

I blinked, shaking my head slightly. “Do I?”

Bingley grinned, all bright-eyed and cheerful as ever, despite the late hour. How he managed to look so fresh after a night like that, I’d never understand. “You do. A bit pale. Perhaps some fresh air would help? The pond in town is frozen over, and I hear there’s already some skating. Fancy that! I thought it would be another fortnight, at least.”

“Skating?” I repeated, blinking again, still half-dazed from lack of sleep. “You’re suggesting skating after dancing all night?”

“Why not?” Bingley replied, as though it were the most obvious solution in the world. “Fresh air, a little exercise—it’ll clear your head. Good for the nerves, you know.” He paused, then added with a sly grin, “Miss Bennet seemed to think it was a fine idea.”

Of course. Miss Bennet. I stared at him, realizing the true motivation behind his suggestion. It wasn’t the fresh air or the skating; it was her.

“Come, Darcy, it is not the time for gloominess. Do you know,” Bingley continued, waving a letter in his hand, “I’ve just had word from my solicitor in town. Some business that requires my attention, but I’ve decided it can wait. Much better attractions here, and surely old Robert can manage without me for a few more days.”

At this, Miss Bingley, who had been lurking by the window in a state of perpetual boredom, turned sharply. “Charles, you must attend to your affairs. Meryton is hardly a place to linger when there are matters of importance awaiting you in London.”

Bingley waved her off with a good-natured chuckle. “Nonsense, Caroline. I’m enjoying my time here immensely. I’m sure my solicitor can manage just fine without me for a little while longer.”

Caroline’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t argue further. Clearly, she had hoped to drag him back to London as quickly as possible, but Bingley was not to be moved. His thoughts were clearly in Meryton—and more specifically, with Jane Bennet.

“I see,” I muttered, staring down at my hands, which had curled into fists at some point. Bingley was free to stay here, free to enjoy himself, free to court Miss Bennet. Free, in every way that I was not.

The truth of it was, I didn’t know where I belonged. Here? In London? It hardly seemed to matter. I was cursed in either direction.

I could go back to London, escape this place, leave Wickham and his unsettling presence behind. Leave Elizabeth Bennet behind. But I would still be haunted—literally—and at least here, I wasn’t making a fool of myself in front of my family.

Well, not yet, anyway.

“Darcy,” Bingley’s voice softened, a touch of concern creeping into his usual cheer. “I know last night was... well, not to your liking. I know you do not enjoy balls, and you seemed terribly out of sorts when last I saw you. But staying cooped up here all day won’t help. Come skating with me. We’ll make a day of it.”

I glanced at him, the temptation to decline already forming on my lips. But then I thought of London. Of Georgiana. Of the chaos that awaited me there—and the very tangible ghost who would follow me wherever I went.

Here, at least, the madness was contained. Mostly.

“I suppose,” I said slowly, “it wouldn’t hurt to join you.”

Bingley grinned again, clearly pleased with himself. “That’s the spirit! We’ll leave within the hour.”

As Bingley bounced off to inform the rest of the household of his grand plans for the afternoon, I leaned back in my chair, staring into the cold hearth once more.

London or Meryton—either way, there would be no escaping this purgatory.

Elizabeth

“ L izzy, come on!” Lydia’s shout echoed across the frozen lake, her voice high-pitched with excitement. “The ice is perfect today!”

I tightened my scarf and took a deep breath, watching my breath cloud in the air as I pulled my skates tighter. “I’m coming, Lydia, don’t wear yourself out before you’ve even begun.”

“Not possible!” she sang, already spinning circles with Kitty, their laughter mingling with the other skaters gliding across the ice.

Charlotte, standing beside me, raised an eyebrow. “Do they ever slow down?”

“Only when they run out of breath,” I said dryly, my eyes scanning the crowd. “Or, you know, when they crash into something.”

Charlotte smiled as she tightened her own skates. “Well, I suppose we’re in for quite a show then.”

Mr. Collins had barely stepped onto the ice before disaster struck. He teetered for a full two seconds before his arms flailed wildly in the air, and with a resounding thud , he landed flat on his backside.

“Good heavens, Miss Elizabeth!” he yelped, trying and failing to pull himself back up. “I fear I have injured... something.”

I stifled a laugh, offering him a sympathetic look. “Perhaps, Mr. Collins, it would be best for you to rest a while. There’s a bench right over there. You mustn’t overexert yourself.”

“Y-yes,” he wheezed, wincing as he hobbled off the ice, holding his lower back. “I shall supervise from the sidelines. A prudent decision, I’m sure Lady Catherine would agree.”

Charlotte nudged me, her eyes twinkling with amusement as we watched him shuffle awkwardly toward the bench. “Well, that’s one way to escape a conversation.”

I grinned. “I have my methods.”

With Mr. Collins safely seated on the sidelines, I allowed myself a moment of triumph before Charlotte’s gaze drifted toward the ice once more. That was when I saw it, too. The wobbling, stiff figure attempting to maintain some semblance of balance just a few paces ahead. There, struggling to stay upright, was none other than Mr. Darcy himself, his face set in that familiar scowl of concentration.

“Oh no,” I muttered, half to myself.

“Lizzy, what is it?” Charlotte asked, pulling up beside me.

“Just… that.” I jerked my chin in his direction.

Mr. Darcy was attempting to stay upright, but it was a losing battle. His legs splayed out at awkward angles, and his arms flailed in every direction like a windmill in a storm.

“Oh dear,” Charlotte said, covering her mouth to stifle a laugh.

“More like ‘oh disaster,’” I sighed, trying not to wince as he stumbled again, narrowly avoiding a group of young children who skated past him with the ease of seasoned professionals. He might have managed to stay upright if not for whatever invisible force seemed to be tormenting him.

He got his feet again, and for a moment, he seemed to be doing tolerably well. Better than tolerably, in fact. It was Mr. Bingley who looked like the clumsy one as Mr. Darcy glided circles around his friend. Now, how did that man go from bumbling worse than Mr. Collins one minute and looking as though he could give a lecture on skating technique the next? But as he rounded the top of his circle, his eyes strayed to me, and all his grace evaporated.

Without warning, Mr. Darcy suddenly lurched forward as though he’d been shoved from behind, his arms flailing wildly. He muttered something under his breath—something about someone being drawn and quartered, it sounded like. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was muttering at me —or to someone no one else could see. Indeed, that notion sounded crazy, but it was less crazy than certain alternative explanations.

“Is he… quite all right?” Charlotte asked, watching Darcy’s odd movements.

I shrugged. “Who can say? Mr. Darcy’s been acting strangely for weeks. This might just be the grand finale. Charlotte, do you suppose a mad man’s brain actually explodes before he perishes of his insanity?”

“Oh, Lizzy, stop it.” Before I could stop her, Charlotte waved at him. “Mr. Darcy! Care to join us?”

He managed to throw a tight smile our way, but before he could respond, he stumbled again, his skates slipping out from under him. I winced as he nearly collided with a tree. He might have managed to stop himself, but his eyes widened as though someone had done something—something only he could see.

“Well, I’ve never seen him quite like this,” Charlotte said, frowning.

I bit my lip, trying to stifle a laugh. “You haven’t been paying attention.”

Darcy somehow managed to wobble his way toward us, his expression a strange mix of determination and dread, his eyes darting about as though he was expecting something—or someone—to jump out at him.

“Miss Bennet,” he gasped, tipping his hat and inclining from the waist. There, see? A man truly as clumsy as he had looked a moment ago would have fallen when he tried to bow to a lady. “And Miss Lucas,” he continued. “Lovely day for skating, isn’t it?”

Charlotte blinked. “If you say so.”

I couldn’t resist. “Mr. Darcy, you appear somewhat winded. I quite understand, sir. After dancing all night, and then rousing for a bracing afternoon on the skating pond, anyone would be fatigued and… stiff. Perhaps you should rest.”

Mr. Darcy’s eyes flashed. “I am perfectly well, thank you.”

“Well,” I said, turning slightly so Charlotte wouldn’t see the smirk tugging at my lips, “if you’re certain, Mr. Darcy. But I must say, I am impressed with your stamina. That was a remarkable performance just now.”

He looked as though he was about to respond when he suddenly jumped again as if someone had pinched him—or worse. His face flushed, and he muttered something unintelligible, his eyes darting around wildly. He glanced behind him, then back at me, clearly struggling to maintain his composure.

“Perhaps I should… excuse myself,” he said, his voice strained. Without another word, he turned abruptly and skated off—if you could call it that—his movements looking more like marching steps than fluid glides.

Charlotte glanced at me, her expression mirroring my own confusion. “Well, that was… odd.”

“ Odd doesn’t even begin to cover it,” I muttered.