“I am glad that you did not. Judging from the state of the affairs in here, your building a fire would burn the house down.”

“Oh, I do not know. I did not make too big of a mess,” and she looked around at the state of disarray that the room was in and leaned over to push shut one of the many open cupboards.

Walking slowly around the room, as if it were nothing but a stroll down a lane, she began to shut them all, while glancing nonchalantly at him in between each closing of a door.

“My shirt certainly is one,” Darcy countered looking at her critically.

She stood on the opposite side of the table from him now.

“Your shirt? Is this your shirt?”

“Did you think it was left in our chamber by another gentleman?”

“Not at all. I actually thought it was one of my shifts. The light was dim when I dressed. Would you like it back?”

“Certainly,” Darcy answered with a little smile playing on his lips at the thought that she might choose to return it to him just now.

“Well, why do you not come and get it then, if you intend to have it back this minute?"

Darcy’s smile widened revealing his dimples. He approached Elizabeth, who was looking at him archly. “I might take that challenge if not for the fact that your silliness should not be encouraged.” He lifted her up in his arms. Placing her legs around his hips he put her cold feet in the pockets of his robe. “What were you thinking of, abandoning me in our bed and coming here barefoot?”