Advent Calendar Day 18: Yankee Swap Part Two

Welcome back 🙂 The first part of this story is here!

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Darcy slid into the car after Elizabeth and the driver, the soul of discretion, said nothing, proceeding as if nothing had happened. The silence was awkward between them for a few minutes until she said, “So Bingley didn’t tell me anything about our plans tonight. Only that it would be a late night.” 

“He didn’t tell me anything either,” he said. Leaning forward, he asked the driver, “Sam, where are you taking us?” 

“Holiday lights, sir,” the man replied. “Dyker Heights.” 

“Dyker Heights!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “That’s amazing!” 

“Is it?” Darcy asked. “I’ve never been.” 

“Neither have I. I always want to, but you know how it is, things get busy, and next you know its January.” 

“That’s the truth,” Darcy acknowledged. “Well, a first time for us both. Let’s hope it’s as amazing as people say it is.” 

Thirty minutes later, Elizabeth found herself pressed close to Darcy amid a throng of people wandering the streets of Dyker Heights. It was something extraordinary to be sure, each house decorated elaborately and extravagantly with lights and inflatables and any other manner of holiday decoration. The results ranged from elegant to kitschy, but there was an undeniably festive atmosphere around it all. 

It couldn’t be denied that their argument and Darcy’s subsequent revelations about Wickham had cast a pall over them. Darcy barely spoke, responding civilly to her attempts at conversation but with no real warmth. She thought they must look very odd, walking along, not touching, not speaking, each giving a cursory examination to the houses but with little true pleasure. 

As if he had read her mind, he spoke. “Which is your favorite so far?” 

“Which house?” She considered it a moment.  “The one with the flamingos. You?” 

“Flamingos, hmm?”

“Well, they weren’t ordinary flamingos—they were wearing scarves.”

“That does make all the difference.” Darcy chuckled, and though it sounded forced, she appreciated it. 

“Which was yours?” 

“The house where the people were handing out kugel and latkes, but I had an early lunch, so it is perhaps a biased opinion.” 

“That kugel was the best I’ve ever tasted! Someone’s bubbie’s recipe, I’m sure of it.”

“The kind of recipe that’s not written down,” Darcy added. “She just stands over the next generation and shows them how to do it.” 

“Exactly!” Elizabeth agreed enthusiastically. 

As if on cue, the car came rolling up next to them. Sam lowered the window. “Sir, Mr. Bingley has arranged a dinner reservation.”

Elizabeth offered a tentative smile. “Unless the kugel filled you up?”

“Not at all,” he said. “Let’s go.”  

*

From the brink of disaster, it seemed their date had been saved. Darcy was grateful for that much even if it had left him feeling even more tongue-tied than usual. It was difficult to want something so badly. He’d never found himself in his position before, desperate for a woman to like him, but then again, he’d never had a date with Elizabeth Bennet before. 

He hoped Bingley had something extraordinary planned for dinner; a cozy little Italian bistro maybe, or a supper club. Something where they could both relax, shed the remaining hard feelings, and just talk. 

Five minutes later, he stood on the sidewalk, his nascent optimism shattered. The restaurant looked like a Christmas village in Bavaria, or what Disney might think a Christmas village in Bavaria looked like. He could only imagine what sort of food might come out of a place like this—wiener schnitzel? Sauerkraut? 

“Kostlich?” Elizabeth looked intrigued. “I’ve never been here.” 

“No,” Darcy said flatly. “We are not eating here.” 

“Why not? It looks fun.” 

Fun. The last thing he wanted was some sort of  leftover Oktoberfest theme park dinner with her. He wanted romance. Bingley had promised him romance, and this was not romantic. They entered the restaurant, finding it positively festooned with every form of tinsel, lights and bauble that one could imagine. A baby was screaming towards the back of the room, and Darcy thought same kid, same. It was overwhelming, the flickering lights, the loud, tinny version of Kling, Glöckchen which was playing, the smell of sauerkraut and sausage in the air. Evidently, the place was popular: they stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the small space waiting to be seated. Darcy had never had a panic attack before but felt certain this might be the place for his first. “Let’s get out of here.” 

“You want to leave?” Elizabeth looked up at him. “Are you sure? I think it’s sort of cute.” 

“I admire your spirit,” he said with a half-smile. “I was hoping we could eat somewhere more…” romantic, elegant, special, expensive “… quiet.” 

“It is pretty loud,” she admitted. 

“Let’s leave,” he urged. “Forget Bingley’s plan. We could go to the Rainbow Room or something, somewhere total New York Christmas but with less kitsch.” 

“The Rainbow Room?” She looked doubtful. “Isn’t that—”

Whatever she thought was interrupted by a large red-faced man wearing a Santa suit sans the beard. “Are you Mr. Darcy?” He shouted over the music.

“I am,” Darcy acknowledged. “I am afraid we cannot—”

“Follow me!” He turned and began to move through the crowd. Elizabeth threw a little smile up at him, squeezed his arm and said, “Let’s just go with it.”   

He found himself following her, thinking that if she smiled like that at him often, he’d probably do anything she wanted. 

The man led them to an old stairway, small and tight, but Darcy was grateful that the music and lights died away as they climbed. They seemed to be leaving the restaurant—not a bad thing, but Darcy was curious about what was going on. 

Moments later, having climbed at least four flights, they were ushered through another door. Elizabeth halted in her tracks causing Darcy to collide with her. Both of them gasped. 

It was a winter wonderland, up on the rooftop. Potted Christmas trees formed an enchanted forest in the midst of which was a little gazebo. The gazebo was decorated with candles and lights and contained one small table for two, as well as portable heaters to keep them warm. A waiter stood by the table ready to welcome them. 

The large man smiled. “Mr. Bingley asked me to make you wait in the foyer just long enough for you to look like you were about to leave. He said it wouldn’t take long.” 

Elizabeth laughed, and Darcy sheepishly admitted, “Loud music and crowded rooms are not exactly my thing.” 

They were seated and served hot mulled wine which was delicious. Bingley, via Nicola, had gone so far as to arrange a private menu for them. “I suppose we should never have doubted Charles,” Elizabeth mused. “Jane tells me he’s the king of romance.” 

“He’s doing well for us,” Darcy acknowledged. “Much better than I could have done, for sure.”

Elizabeth put her hand in her chin, one elbow on the table. Her eyes shone in the candlelight. “I doubt that’s true. Properly motivated, I am sure you’d have done just fine.” 

“I think the very fact that I would have wanted it to be perfect would have kept me from making it anything special. I would have just spent a bunch of money without really doing what I wanted to do.” 

“What is it you would have really wanted to do?” she asked. 

Darcy lowered his gaze to the handwritten menu which was still beside his appetizer plate. He had creased it when he looked at, and he used one finger now to idly trace the crease. “I think when you’re with someone you love, the romance comes from just being in their presence. It doesn’t really have anything to do with candles or snow or roaring fires, anything like that. It’s just being together.” 

“I agree,” she said. “I think it’s just sharing the moment, the two of you in your own little bubble, and feeling like you’re so glad it’s them and no one else with you in that moment.” 

She paused, and he raised his eyes to see her biting her lip before admitting, “I’m happy to be here with you. Even if we had stayed downstairs, and eaten jaeger schnitzel and beer, it still would have been romantic because we’d have laughed at it together.” 

Her words made him catch his breath, and when he exhaled again, he sighed her name. “Elizabeth.”  She waited for him to say something else, so he swallowed, and said, “I…I am so glad to be here with you tonight.” 

It was an excellent time for an interruption; he needed to gather his wits again, and so was delighted to see the arrival of the first course. By the time they had been served, he was still breathing properly.

“How are your aunt and uncle?” he asked. “I enjoyed meeting them… was that last month already?”

“It was,” she said. “The day after Thanksgiving, I think? I always go out shopping with them then.” 

“I really enjoyed my conversation with your uncle that night.” 

“You were so kind to invite us all back to your place for dessert.” 

“But you couldn’t come,” he said. “I think there was some emergency with your sister?” 

“Lydia.” Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Yes, whenever Lydia thinks she’s not getting enough attention she likes to stage an emergency to get the whole family in a flap. Anyway, you were just so…so kind to us all.” 

“Did you expect me to be otherwise?” 

“Honestly, yes I did,” she admitted. “To be perfectly frank, when I saw you I expected you to walk by and ignore us. You could have, you know. A few steps to the right and you wouldn’t have even passed our table.”

He met her gaze steadily. “Why would I have done that?” 

“My aunt and uncle are… well you know, he does well enough, his car dealership is one of the most profitable in Queens. Thats nothing compared to the businesses you run but you treated him like you were both the same.”

“We’re both the same,” Darcy said. “Business is business no matter what the dollar amounts attached to it are.” 

“You surprised me,” she said. “I realized I knew absolutely nothing about you and what little I believed I knew was completely wrong. It made me want a second chance.” 

He gave her a slight grin. “I’m glad,” he told her. “I’m doing my best to improve on further acquaintance.” 

*

A light snow had begun to fall over the city by the time they left the restaurant. As Darcy helped her into the car, she wondered if this was it, the end of their near-fairytale date. She found herself hoping it wasn’t. 

“Well, Sam?” Darcy asked as he entered the car. “What next?” 

“A carriage ride, sir,” Sam replied. Elizabeth hid her little exhale of relief. “Mr. Bingley was quite insistent that a carriage ride through Central Park be included.” 

By the time they arrived at the carriage ride, however, the light snow had grown more determined, along with an increasingly fierce wind, the kind that threatened of real winter to come. Elizabeth was not about to protest, however, and climbed into the carriage seat, immediately taking cover under the warm blanket. 

They set off a bit quietly, Darcy tucked into his blanket and Elizabeth cocooned into hers. “If only the wind would die down a little,” she said, feeling the sting of the snowflakes against her face.

“Yeah,” he said, looking none too happy. “Should we ask him to turn around?” 

“Let’s give it a little bit longer.” Then, on an impulse she didn’t dare to examine, she said, “Maybe if we both snuggled under both blankets, it might be better?” 

He turned to look at her, seeming more surprised than she would have expected. After all, he was a hunky billionaire, didn’t women want to climb under his blankets all the time? Then again, she told herself, not so many hours ago you were almost flinging yourself from the moving car to get away from him.

She lifted his blanket and hers and slid close enough that the long length of his thigh was pressed against hers. Then she reached across him, putting her blanket across him, then pulling his blanket across her. The immediate increase in heat was undeniable, especially when he tentatively pulled her into his side with one arm. She snuggled in, hoping he knew how much she wanted to be there. 

Elizabeth tilted her head up at him. “Better?” 

“Perfect,” he replied. 

The horses began to move and with it, the conversation. Elizabeth found herself a little surprised by how talkative Darcy could be. They spoke about family and friends, about Jane and Charles, about how Darcy didn’t watch sports very much and Elizabeth did, and how both preferred paperbacks to e-readers. Somewhere in the course of things Elizabeth realized they were holding hands and that, even better, their gloves were removed and his thumb was brushing the skin of her thumb. In the midst of a conversation about favorite travel spots, she found herself wondering what it would be like to fall in love with him. 

Central Park was strangely deserted, and at length, Elizabeth remarked on it.  “It’s weird, isn’t it, to be in Central Park and not see all the joggers and tourists and bike riders?” 

“I paid them all to stay away,” Darcy replied with a little smirk. “I was hoping to have you to myself.” 

She laughed. “And so you do! But the question is then, what shall you do with me?” 

He looked down at her, and for a moment her own daring failed her. She felt the heat of him pressed beside her, a stark contrast to the cold air on her cheeks. He wanted to kiss her—she could sense it in the air between them, that electricity that comes before an earth-shattering kiss. Beneath the blanket, she felt his hand envelop hers, and she tilted her head up, wanting Darcy to know that she wanted to kiss him too.

He’s unsure of himself. The thought amazed her that she would have him in her power enough that he’d want to kiss her and yet deny himself. He really does love me. The thought of that made her shiver and wonder what it might be like to kiss him. 

“The Bow Bridge, sir,” announced the carriage driver loudly. 

The disappointment that coursed through her was almost painful in its severity. Bow Bridge? What did she care about the Bow Bridge, she’d been there a million times, she wasn’t some tourist!  

Darcy sounded more baffled than angry when he replied. “Ah… the Bow Bridge? Are we… should we exit the carriage?” 

“Yes, sir,” the man said, climbing down from his perch and coming to assist them. Grudgingly Elizabeth emerged from her blanketed paradise and jumped down. 

It was rather beautiful, a spot of snowy, urban perfection; it served as an ideal backdrop to a veritable multitude of engagement photos and Instagram posts. “The place where people come to propose,” she said.

“People who lack imagination,” Darcy snorted beside her. 

“How imaginative does a proposal need to be?” She looked up at him. “Really, all that’s required is a simple ‘will you’ and a ring. Actually, you don’t even need the ring.” 

“I thought every girl wanted something unique and special, something to tell her friends about so they could all gasp and be amazed,” he said. 

“Finding love in and of itself is the unique and special part,” Elizabeth said. “Or so I’ve always thought.” 

“I can’t disagree with you there,” he said. 

She felt it again, that tension in the air, the portent of a kiss. The snow had become more lazy, drifting rather than blowing and surrounding them with the feeling of enchantment. Great spot for a first kiss, she thought. The tourists would be proud. 

“If you were willing,” he said, “I would love for you to meet my sister.” 

His sister was on his mind? Elizabeth recovered quickly from her surprise. “I’d like that too.”

“We could have dinner together perhaps?”

“Sounds great.”  

“How does tomorrow sound?” 

“Tomorrow?” 

“Unless you’re busy of course,” he said immediately. “You probably are. Busy that is.” 

“No.” She laid her hand on his arm. “No, I’m not busy. I was just surprised, that’s all. Surprised you wanted to see me again so soon.” 

“You are?” He shook his head slightly. “Elizabeth, if I had it my way, we’d have a date tomorrow, and the next day and the day after that… every day after that until…”

She waited a moment, not breathing, her chest tight with anticipation. “Until?” 

Her hand was still on his arm, and he reached for it, removing it from his arm and bringing it to his lips, lightly kissing her fingers. Such an old fashioned gesture might have seemed contrived from another man, but for Darcy, it seemed perfectly natural.

“Until what we had was no longer considered dating,” he murmured, dropping her hand, and touching the hair around her face.

She touched her tongue to her lips. “Tomorrow then,” she said. “I’m looking forward to it.” 

His eyes fell to her lips, and she thought now, do it now, kiss me…but he didn’t. 

Darcy gestured back to the carriage. “Shall we get back in? I’m starting to feel the cold, and I’m sure you must be too.” 

*

Sweet agony. He had never understood phrases like that, so common in romance stories, until he was actually living it. It was painful, his want for her, but it was also pleasurable because it was the understanding that even if he couldn’t have her now, someday he might. 

Might. Because he still wasn’t quite sure. The date had progressed from anger to her wanting to leave, and then onto to her staying and from there, heaven. They had talked, laughed, cleared up misconceptions—it was much more than he’d dared to hope for. They had a second date, and that was when he would kiss her. This date was one that had been forced on her; 

He realized then that the car had come to a stop in one of the side streets of Manhattan. He leaned to look out the window but couldn’t see anything he recognized. “Where are we?” he asked Sam.

“A club, sir. One Mr. Bingley thought might be a fun way to end the evening.” 

He looked at Elizabeth, his eyebrows raised. “I have to admit, Bingley has done us well so far, but this doesn’t look like any club I’ve ever seen.” 

“Which makes it more appealing in my book.” She grinned. “Let’s go in.” 

They had to descend a few steps below the sidewalk to enter. It proved to be a private club, happily absent of any sort of throbbing techno beat. They were greeted by a host named Niki who was wearing  leopard print silk pajamas and black high heels trimmed with marabou. Don’t tell me this is the new trend. Darcy shuddered even as he gave her his name.

“Of course! Welcome to the Slumber Party. Come with me, we’ll find your outfits in here.” 

They followed her into a small room, shooting each other baffled looks as they went. Inside the room were racks and shelves of new clothes. “Mr. Bingley has paid your admission fee. It includes the pajamas, which are yours to keep afterwards.” 

“Pajamas?” Elizabeth asked. 

“As you see, we have a wide selection,” Niki chirped, gesturing at the wall behind her. “Baby dolls, onesies, footsies, nighties, lounge pants… whatever you’d like.”  

“I don’t think we’ll need those,” Darcy informed her. 

“Oh but you have to wear pajamas,” she said cheerfully. “It’s our dress code.”

“A dress code? Of pajamas?”

“Yes,” she said. “And I should tell you now, despite our theme, this is not a sex club. Pajamas must be worn at all times, and private areas are monitored by closed-circuit televisions. Indecency will get you immediate removal.” 

Elizabeth gave him a startled, amused look and mouthed the words sex club, then said aloud, “I’m game if you are.” To Niki, she said, “White sherpa onesie, size small.”

“Sherpa onesie?” Darcy asked. 

“You got it,” Niki replied. “I think we have some tall sizes, I’ll hook you up.” With that, she disappeared behind the curtain into a back room. 

Darcy sighed. “I was asking what it was, not making my selection.”

“Well, I think you’ll be delighted with your choice,” Elizabeth assured him. “Nice and cozy.”

Ten minutes later, Darcy was incredulous. “I look like a tall wad of cotton.”

“Not at all,” Elizabeth replied, barely smothering her grin. “Very dignified actually.”

“Totally hot,” Niki assured him in a bored tone. “Now let me show you to your table.”

They entered a dark cavernous room, dimly lit by some well-placed flameless candles. It was mostly quiet, people lingering over drinks, though in one corner, a pillow fight was happening. “This is without a doubt the oddest place I’ve ever been,” Darcy announced. 

Bingley had done well by them, reserving a private space with furry pillows on the floor and velvet curtains to separate them from the rest of the club.  “Last call is 5 a.m.,” Niki told them gesturing towards the pillows. “As I mentioned before, these rooms are monitored, and any attempts at a DIY porn show will result in your rapid removal from the premises. What can I get you to drink? I cannot say enough good things about the hot chocolate experience, it’s a flight of five spiked hot chocolates. Want me to hook that up for you?”

Darcy nodded, and she was off.  Elizabeth tossed herself down onto the floor pillow. “Very comfy,” she announced. “Join me?” 

“How am I supposed to sit in this thing?” He grumbled. “Do people really sleep this way?”

“I think teenage female people do,” Elizabeth said and then reached for his hand, almost pulling him down beside her. Moments later, Niki returned.

“The hot chocolate experience,” she announced setting down five mugs. “Nutella, coconut almond, peanut butter cup, peppermint bark and salted caramel. Have fun!” 

Elizabeth picked up the mug that Darcy believed was Nutella hot chocolate. “A toast to second chances,” she announced, taking a sip. “Extremely hot but delicious.” 

He took the mug from her, sipping cautiously. “Agreed,” he said. “Wonder what kind of booze is in this? I can barely taste it.” 

“I sense a whiff of bourbon,” Elizabeth replied. “But I could be wrong.” 

Almond joy was likewise delicious, “although if you didn’t like coconut, you’d be in trouble,” Darcy decided. “It’s very coconutty.” 

“I love coconut,” Elizabeth said. “I like to eat it, smell it, the works.” 

“I have to admit,” Darcy said, “I’ve always like the coconut-smelling conditioners and such that they make for women. Men always get some sort of woodsy-smelling shampoo.”

“That’s right. It’s like women want to be on the beach while people assume men want to be permanently in Colorado or something.” 

“Exactly. Somewhere we can stomp through the woods looking manly in red plaid.” 

Elizabeth laughed then picked up another cup of hot chocolate. She took a little sip and made a face, quickly setting it down. “Gross. This one tastes awful.” 

“What’s in that one?”

“The peanut butter. Mental note, peanut butter and booze do not mix. I think I need another swig of the Nutella one to cleanse my palate,” she complained. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Darcy said. “I just drank the rest of it. Give me a minute, I’ll order another one.”

“Not necessary.” She shook her head, her eyes locked onto his as she leaned into him. When she put her hand against his chest, his brain bleated out one word into his conscious—kiss!—and then it happened, her lips on his. Too fast she was pulling away from him. 

“Don’t go,” he said, already a little breathless. He cupped the back of her head and kissed her again, deepening the kiss. A clattering sound surprised them both; the mug which had contained the Nutella hot chocolate had fallen and rolled away. Elizabeth moved to quickly pick it up; then, looking at him, she  moved the rest of the mugs to the side. 

He hoped he was correct in his understanding of her invitation, and took her into his arms. He’d dreamt of this moment for months now, but reality was so much better, holding her tight against him, tasting her, touching her, and feeling her touch him too. 

It was too tempting to be laying in a mass of pillows with the woman he loved; instinct drove him to lay her down and to slide on top of her, to trail kisses onto her neck and lower. But it was her fault—and something he would tease her about for years to come—that they got kicked out. 

Caught up in the moment like he was, she slid down the zipper of his onesie. It was hardly scandalous, just enough so that she could slide her hands inside and touch his chest, but apparently, it was too much for Niki. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, giving them a rueful smile. “We can’t allow it. It escalates too quickly and then next we know…” 

“DIY porn?” Darcy asked soberly, making Elizabeth, sitting red-faced beside him, laugh. 

“Exactly,” said Niki.

“Just give us a minute to put our clothes back on,” Darcy said. “I promise we’ll go quietly.” 

One year later

“You know I got charged for that, right?” Bingley asked. 

“No! You did?” Elizabeth asked. The two couples were strolling the streets of Dyker Heights, enjoying the lights. 

“How much?” Darcy asked. 

“Two-fifty,” said Bingley in an aggrieved tone. “It’s a very strict club.” 

“Well, it’ll give you something to think about next time you want to offer up my dating services for Yankee Swap,” Darcy informed him.

“Hey!” Elizabeth protested, snuggling tighter under Darcy’s arm. “You’d better not. Or if you do, just make sure I know which present it is first because he’s all mine.” 

Though it had been a year, hearing her say things like that still caused the same happy thrill to go through him. All mine. Yes indeed, he was all hers, and he was hoping that, by the end of this night, she’d be all his, too. 

Jane and Bingley had been married a few weeks prior, on the twenty-sixth of November, and had recently returned from their honeymoon. Darcy had pressed them into service immediately, setting into action a plan he had been developing since August. It was hard to believe it was nearly upon them, just a few more houses down. 

“Wonder what’s wrong with that one?” Elizabeth pointed to a smaller, more modest looking house that was completely dark. 

“Maybe they don’t decorate?” Jane asked innocently. 

“I think the neighbors make a covenant,” Bingley opined. “All of this brings a lot to the shopkeepers, so it’s in everyone’s interests to keep it going.” 

“Be that as it may,” said Elizabeth, “they don’t have any lights.” 

The house was fenced in with a low stone wall and wrought iron fencing, and Elizabeth moved closer,  turning her back on the rest of them and almost pressing her face to the fence to better see the house. “They have the lights,” she reported. “They just aren’t turned on. I wonder if they know? Maybe a fuse blew or… oh!” 

The lights had come on suddenly, dancing, flickering and illuminating things to the beat of an old song he’d always particularly liked and imagined she would too, Smokey Robinson singing about how in love he was and that if his girl loved him too, it would be Christmas every day. Right on cue, Elizabeth enthused, without turning around, “Oh I love this song!” 

Quietly, Jane reached into her bag, withdrawing her camera and stepping backwards to frame her shot. Bingley raised his phone to his face, pressing the record button as the passersby on the street began to gather, looking curiously at Darcy, who had dropped to one knee on the sidewalk. 

As Elizabeth watched the lights on the house, a marquee which ran along the roofline but had been previous dark, lit up. At first, it showed no more than a series of symbols… a tree, a snowflake, a snowman and then hearts. Then came the words:

Dearest loveliest Elizabeth, I love you so much. Please say you will marry me.

Elizabeth gasped, turning around to find him with a ring in his hand. “The year we’ve had together has been the best year of my life,” he said. “I want to make your whole life feel like the holidays, every day better than the one before it. I love you more than words can say. Will you marry me?” 

Her eyes shone as she covered her mouth with her mittened hands and walked to him, helping him stand. “Yes,” she said, to the cheers of the gathered crowd. “Forever and always yes.”