Christmas at Pemberley

Roman didn’t think: he simply responded.

She pressed her lips together and shoved hard against his mouth, but Roman had actually expected as much. From what he knew of the lady, Miss De Bourgh had led a very sheltered life. Only last evening, he had imagined that he would have to teach her about the marriage bed’s pleasures.

At least, she is willing to kiss me, he thought as he eased the pressure and softened the intensity of their joining. Shifting Anne in his arms, he kissed her and gloried in how she allowed him to lead. He angled his mouth to take hers completely. Surprisingly, she didn’t stiffen in his embrace. Instead, the lady sagged, leaning heavily against him. Roman slid his tongue along the seam of her lips, and she rewarded him with a small gasp, but before he could deepen the kiss, a cold dose of reality entered the equation.

“Anne Catherine Margaret De Bourgh, what do you think you’re doing?” Lady Catherine exclaimed loudly. Several servants rushed to her aid, thinking Mr. Darcy’s aunt required assistance.

Descending the main staircase, Lady Catherine had anticipated her entrance into the morning room: She’d returned to Pemberley without benefit of an apology or a concession to the new Mrs. Darcy. It was more than for which she could’ve hoped. With Darcy’s last appeal, she’d considered how a reconciliation might be accomplished without her admitting guilt in their argument. Lady Catherine hated expressing regret. It was her plan to stay through the Boxing Day celebration and then take her leave. “Do not overstay the welcome,” she had murmured to the portrait gallery lining the wall. “Allow Darcy to wonder why I came. I can reclaim my sister’s family without losing face and without everyone knowing my real reason for being here.”

On the second floor, Lady Catherine paused to take in Pemberley’s glory and consider her family’s lasting influence. Her sister Lady Anne Darcy and her brother the Earl of Matlock had done well. She relished their combined impact on English society; they had created a legacy for the next generation. Matlock had Lindale and Fitzwilliam to which to leave the Earldom. Her sister’s son had taken Pemberley’s realm and had increased his esteemed father’s holdings. Only she had failed. Anne had never blossomed into a woman that a man would desire. Lady Catherine predicted an end to Rosings Park with her passing. Anne would never be able to handle it on her own. Early on, Catherine had feared Sir Lewis’s shyness would prevail in her daughter. It was why she’d insisted on making a match between Anne and Darcy. It had been a foolish idea between loving sisters when their children were but babes; however, the idea had grown into an obsession as Anne’s timidity had become more evident. The De Bourghs would lose Rosings without Darcy overseeing it, and so she’d counseled on behalf of the match.

Whispering came from what should’ve been an empty room, and she had stepped into the open doorway to investigate. Servants often took advantage of generous masters, especially on a solemn day such as this one. She’d put a stop to such insolence. However, what she beheld enflamed Lady Catherine’s temper. “Anne Catherine Margaret De Bourgh, what do you think you’re doing?” she barked.

Without preamble, Lady Catherine stormed into the room as the couple jumped apart. Never in all her years had she expected to find her daughter in an intimate embrace with a gentleman. Catherine didn’t know whether to celebrate or stand in horror. As was typical, she chose something less sedate than a celebratory moment, centering her disdain on the man who had just compromised Anne. “Lieutenant.” she snarled. “Have you no principles? You’ll unhand my daughter immediately.” Anne took a half step toward her in the lieutenant’s defense, but Lady Catherine’s cold glare warned her daughter to not interfere. “I ask again, Lieutenant. Have you no defense for your actions?”

“Perhaps, Lady Catherine, we could all have a seat and discuss this calmly,” she said with authority from the open doorway. With a flick of her wrist, Pemberley’s mistress sent the two maids and a footman on their separate ways and closed the door behind her. She quickly assayed the dilemma and discovered a very flushed Anne De Bourgh standing between her mother and Edward’s aide-de-camp. Immediately, she moved to defuse the situation. “Come, let me assist you, Your Ladyship.” She caught Lady Catherine about the waist and directed Darcy’s aunt to a chair. “Allow me to pour you some sherry,” she said as she shot a pleading glance to the lieutenant to move.

Southland reacted immediately. He scurried to a nearby tray and poured a glass and handed it to Elizabeth. “Drink some of this,” Elizabeth encouraged. “It shall calm your nerves.”

Lady Catherine intoned aristocratically, “I’m not the type to succumb to nerves, Mrs. Darcy.”

“No one believes you are,Your Ladyship,” Elizabeth said softly, “but it’ll give us a moment to compose our thoughts. Please do it for me.” Elizabeth knelt obediently beside Lady Catherine’s chair.

Giving the lieutenant a deathly glare, Lady Catherine reluctantly took a small sip of the potent drink.

“Thank you, Your Ladyship.” Elizabeth caught the woman’s hand and gave it a weak squeeze. Lady Catherine’s gaze fell on her, and for a brief moment, Elizabeth saw vulnerability.

Yet, a soft knock on the door drew their attention, and Darcy slipped into the room. Elizabeth observed the recognition in his eyes. “Mr. Nathan seemed to think Her Ladyship had suffered some sort of shock,” he said cautiously.

Darcy’s eyes rested on her face. He spoke of his aunt’s health, but he would take his cues from Elizabeth. “A bit of an exaggeration, I fear,” Elizabeth automatically rose and took a step toward him. It was a response of which she had become conscious upon Darcy’s return to Longbourn — when he had brought Bingley to Jane in order to right a wrong, Elizabeth had found herself physically drawn to him. No matter when she saw him, the moment Darcy stepped into a room, she moved closer. “Her Ladyship simply needs a moment. Perhaps you might escort your cousin and the lieutenant into the room next door while I see to your aunt.”

Darcy didn’t protest. Over the past three years, they’d learned to trust each other exclusively. With a nod of understanding, he asked, “Anne, would you and Lieutenant Southland join me in the yellow sitting room?” He moved to lead the way.

Anne turned to her mother. “I’m sorry, Your Ladyship,” she whispered through silent sobs. “You must try to understand.” After a brief bow to both Elizabeth and Lady Catherine, Southland caught Anne’s elbow and escorted her from the room.

Elizabeth waited for their departure before turning to Darcy’s aunt. With a deep sigh, she pivoted, expecting to find an irate aristocrat whom she would have to appease, but was greeted by the distraught tear-stained face of Lady Catherine, and instantly, Elizabeth felt compassion for what she suspected to be a very lonely woman. “Your Ladyship,” she empathized and pulled a footstool over to sit at Lady Catherine’s feet.

“Might I?” Lady Catherine held the glass for Elizabeth’s view.

She took it immediately. “Of course.” Walking to the serving tray, Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder at the sunken figure resting back into the chair’s cushions. What happened to the imperious Lady Catherine? Where did all her fight go? Returning to the footstool, she sat and then eased the drink into the woman’s gnarled grasp. They sat in silence for a few minutes before Elizabeth asked, “Would you like to speak of it, Your Ladyship? I realize I’m probably the last person with whom you would consult, but I’m at your disposal. You’re my husband’s aunt, and I desire only the best for you.”

Lady Catherine’s gaze returned to Elizabeth’s face. “Why would you treat me with respect? With compassion?” she murmured. “I’ve never treated you kindly.”

Elizabeth frowned. “We’ve known our contentious moments, but I understand your intensity. You wished the best for your child, and Mr. Darcy is truly the best of men. If I were to have my own child, I’d fight with a similar ferocity to secure his future.”

Admiration played across the lady’s face. “I expect you would, Mrs. Darcy. You give as good as you receive. I doubt if Mr. Darcy had any idea of your tongue’s viciousness.” Lady Catherine half smiled.

“I beg to differ, Your Ladyship. Your nephew was on the receiving end of more than one of my barbs. I like to think my sauciness was part of my charm,” Elizabeth impishly said.

The line of Lady Catherine’s mouth tightened to hide her smile. “A certain sauciness on my sister’s part attracted his father, and I am positive that Sir Lewis found it appealing.”

“I suspect you’re correct,” Elizabeth said judiciously. “Therefore, although your words stung, after careful