were acceptable, and I wasn’t to meet Mr. and Mrs. Collins, Anne and I could have returned to Kent or London or even have chosen to spend our days with Matlock and Lindale. They await Lindale’s heir to the Earldom. Under these horrendous conditions, you cannot mean to send me out on the icy roads.”
“I wouldn’t have you injured in any way, Your Ladyship.” A twinge of guilt ricocheted through Georgiana’s resolve. “But neither would I have you subjected to unacceptable company.”
“Your Ladyship, maybe we should return to Lambton,” Anne ventured. “Surely, Mr. Swank can maneuver the coach safely the five miles to the village.”
Lady Catherine glared at her only child. “First, to find appropriate rooms with the current road conditions would prove impossible. Second, there’s the issue of Mr. and Mrs. Collins. I sent word to the man yesterday that we would wait for him at Pemberley.”
Georgiana felt another surge of seething anger. She presented a calm exterior, but every nerve ending stood on alert. Despite her best efforts, a mulish set locked Georgiana’s jaw. “If I understand your current disapprobation, Your Ladyship, you disdain my brother’s chosen house guests. Yet, you cannot leave Pemberley because of the road conditions and because
Lady Catherine’s defiant chin rose another half inch. “That is an accurate summary.”
Wishing nothing more than a hasty retreat, Georgiana dropped a curtsy. “I must inform Mrs. Reynolds of the Collinses’ arrival. I’ll leave it to you, Your Ladyship, to determine whether you can maintain civility under such dire circumstances. Please keep in mind that Fitzwilliam shall require nothing less.”
Lady Catherine’s upper lip curled in what could only be described as a snarl. “I always thought you a wisp of a girl. You may have a backbone, after all. Although I must admit, I preferred the gentler, more caring Georgiana Darcy.”
Chapter 3
“Does Baron Bloomfield hold a special interest, Elizabeth?” His wife’s intense absorption in every move Bloomfield made ate away at Darcy’s composure.
She blushed. “Lord, no!” She declared self-mockingly. “No one can compare with you, Fitzwilliam.”
Darcy had tried to hold some part of himself apart from her, but from the beginning Elizabeth had held his heart in her grasp. The first time he had laid eyes upon her at the Meryton assembly, shock had slammed through him. “She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me,” he had told Charles Bingley, but his mind had shattered to a single thought: shards of desire for Elizabeth Bennet.
And he’d always been jealous — he’d tried desperately not to be, but was most assuredly so. At Netherfield, he’d said things he knew would provoke her just to draw Elizabeth’s attention away from Bingley. He wanted her gaze on him. With his cousin Edward, the green-eyed monster had reared his head quite dramatically. There were moments at Rosings Park that he considered calling the good colonel out. He had ached for her — to know the splendor of her love.
On their wedding night, Darcy had remained at her bedchamber’s door, watching her brush her raven- touched locks. He knew she was nervous, for he could see her top teeth catch up her bottom lip — a habit Elizabeth had when worried over something. The virginal white gown had only increased his desire. Recognizing his duty to his name, Darcy had always assumed that he’d desire the woman that he wed, but with Elizabeth it was more than the physical contact. He enjoyed her company — his wife’s astute, honest opinions — the completeness she brought to his life. She’d turned his world upside down; he was powerless against the control she held over his heart, his body, and his mind. That demure nightgown had stood between him and happiness.
Elizabeth chuckled self-consciously.“You’ll think me a complete fool.” She paused to judge her husband’s seriousness and then continued her explanation. “Whenever we’re traveling, I watch people to discover who seems content with his lot in life. With gentlemen, such as the baron, I try to guess what equipage they might drive — the color of the crest and livery or what type of horse each man rides. If we’re at a coaching inn, I might watch to see if I’m correct.”
Darcy smiled lovingly. “And are you accurate in your estimations?”
Elizabeth laughed softly. “Rarely.”
He fought to keep the laughter from his response. “I’m all astonishment, my love.You’re known for your incisive judgments.”
Elizabeth swallowed her mirth. “As you well know, Mr. Darcy, I’ve experienced moments when I’ve taken no note of a person’s true goodness.”
“As when you said, ‘I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry’?”
Her mouth’s corners turned upward in amusement. “I did abuse you so abominably to your face. However, even you, my husband, admitted that you deserved my rebukes. For though my accusations were ill founded, formed on mistaken premises, your behavior to me at the time had merited the severest reproof.”
“It was unpardonable,” Darcy said seriously. “I cannot think of it without abhorrence.”
“We will not quarrel for the greater share of blame annexed to that evening,” said Elizabeth. “The conduct of neither, if strictly examined, was irreproachable, but since then we have both, I hope, improved in civility. Instead, let us dwell on the baron’s steed. I say that, as a privileged gentleman, the man rides a grey gelding.”
Darcy allowed her to turn the subject. They’d analyzed their maddening courtship on more than one occasion. “Just a bit skewed,” he said with pleasure. “A roan-colored stallion.”
“See, I’m perfectly insensible,” she declared.
Darcy countered, “You’re perfectly beautiful.”
Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled — a teary mist. “You’re prejudiced on my behalf, Mr. Darcy.”
“Until I met you, Elizabeth, I was always moving but ever going nowhere.”
“You say the most delicious things, Fitzwilliam.” She slid her hand under his. “We brought Christmas to Prestwick’s today, Mr. Darcy.” She inhaled the pine’s calming scent.
Darcy followed her gaze as he tightened his hold on her hand. “You brought Christmas to Prestwick’s, Mrs. Darcy. Your handiwork pokes its head from every corner.”
“The maid Nan helped,” she shared.
“But to your credit, Elizabeth, the Washingtons owe their thanks.”
Elizabeth accepted his acknowledgment with grace. She’d learned to give in to his kindness. “And the gentlemen found some game?” After their conversation with Mrs. Washington, Darcy had first organized a hunt for Christmas greenery and then a different type of hunt.
“Padget’s an excellent shot,” he disclosed. “He, Lord Horvak, Mr. Rennick, and Mr. Livingstone managed to bag several rabbits, a few game birds, and a deer. Mrs. Washington was most appreciative.”
Elizabeth guarded their privacy. “The baron didn’t participate?”
Darcy whispered, “Mr. Bradley’s gout and age kept him from joining the group. Mr. Betts and Mr. Dylan, the farmers who came in early that first night, helped Mr. Washington’s man in the stable.”
“They’ve gotten along well for having not known each other previously,” Elizabeth observed.
“They have,” Darcy continued. “But they’re both accustomed to hard work. And Horvak and Padget’s friendship has allowed Livingstone and Rennick a room. The baron is the only one who expresses an entitlement.”
Elizabeth smirked. “As I assumed. At least, Mr. Darcy, I was correct in one of my estimations.”
