voice when meeting her mother’s close inspection. She truly possessed her father’s personality, and as much as Anne missed him, missed the feeling of belonging that Sir Lewis had provided his only child, moments existed when she wished more for Mrs. Darcy’s ability to thwart Lady Catherine’s plans.
Although she desired her own home and family, Anne had understood that her marrying Darcy was never a reality. The man intimidated her. Even as a boy, Darcy had tormented her for her shyness, claiming it a weakness. Despite being more than a bit humiliated, Anne actually found that amusing. Better than anyone else, she recognized diffidence in both Darcy and Georgiana. She’d always thought Darcy amplified her faults in order to disguise his own.
“It’ll be agreeable to spend Christ’s birthday with family,” Anne observed. “To have Mr. Darcy’s good favor again. To know an end to this feud. I’ve truly missed Fitzwilliam and Georgiana.”
“Do not fool yourself, Child,” Lady Catherine warned. “Mr. Darcy’s forgiveness shall be late coming, and if you imagine that I’m of the persuasion to guard my usual frankness in reference to my nephew’s marital nearsightedness, you’ll be sadly disappointed. Only when Mr. Darcy admits his mistake shall I extend my forbearance.”
Silently, Anne groaned. She knew from private moments with Georgiana at Matlock that Mr. Darcy violently loved the former Elizabeth Bennet. When that fact was added to his reluctance to admit any weakness, it wasn’t likely that he would give Lady Catherine any satisfaction. They’d intrude on the Darcys’ Christmas, ruining the day for everyone.
“Do you suppose that Georgiana is safe?” Elizabeth asked as she and Darcy shared breakfast in the inn’s limited seating area.
“Georgiana is fine,” he assured. “She was to return to Pemberley two days prior, but even if my sister was delayed, my Uncle Matlock would see to her safety.”
Elizabeth looked longingly at the snowy landscape through the ice-laced windowpanes. “Might we take a short walk, Fitzwilliam?” she asked, lost in her own world.
Darcy recognized her need for daily exercise. Traveling for two days had left Elizabeth confined to his traveling coach. More often than he should, Darcy recalled how Charles Bingley’s sister, Caroline, had criticized Elizabeth for her preference in walking. “To walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever it is, above her ankles in dirt, and alone, quite alone! What could she mean by it? It seems to me to show an abominable sort of conceited independence, a most country-town indifference to decorum.”
Darcy smiled knowingly. “I would love some time outdoors,” he responded genuinely. “Especially with you.” He teasingly waggled his eyebrows.
His amusing attempt to ease her qualms spoke of Darcy’s love. Elizabeth drew in a deep, determined, definitive breath. “Why is it?” she whispered. “Why, after two years, do I still see you as I did on our wedding night?”
Darcy felt his groin tighten: She had that effect on him. And Elizabeth had just uttered the most provocative thought wrapped in a cloak of sentimentality, something she did with regularity. It kept him off balance — topsy- turvy. He would be going about his duties as Pemberley’s master, and his wife would say something inviting, and his thoughts were lost to her. It had been that way from the beginning: Elizabeth would challenge him with a pert curve turning up her mouth’s corner. Lord, help him! The woman had no idea how crazy she drove him!
“Because I love you. From the day I met you, I saw
He noted the memory of heated sensations in his wife’s eyes as his breath’s warmth caressed her neck. “I may return to my bed before the walk,” she seductively said.
Darcy warmed from the inside out. He stood slowly. “A man should see his wife to their chamber.” He held out his hand. Elizabeth placed her fingers into his palm, and his grasp closed tightly about them.
“Does everyone have a hat and gloves?” Bingley asked as he surveyed the group gathered in Pemberley’s main foyer. “Last evening held an icy mix. Watch your step and stay close together.”
“Do not forget the mistletoe,” Kitty taunted good-naturedly.
Georgiana motioned toward the house’s rear. “If we exit through the upper gardens we can reach the woods in half the time and distance.”
“Lead on, Miss Darcy,” Mr. Bennet proposed. “You know the best way.”
Elizabeth waited patiently as Darcy spoke to Mr.Washington about the area surrounding the inn. They had spent the last hour in bed, and now they would walk off the remainder of their “stranded” frustrations. Although the facilities were adequate, Elizabeth would prefer her own home at Christmas.With Mrs. Reynolds’s assistance, she’d planned the decorations. Her first Christmastide at Pemberley, she was still a bride, less than two months married, and Elizabeth had bowed to Pemberley’s long-time housekeeper’s wishes. Having celebrated her second wedding anniversary in November, this was to be her third Christmas as Pemberley’s mistress and her first at planning the Tenants’ celebration. She’d hate to leave final preparations to Georgiana.
Christmas in this dreary inn would be a sorry excuse for a holiday if the roads didn’t clear soon. Looking about the room, Elizabeth’s eyes fell on Darcy. She sighed deeply. At least, they were together. Being at Pemberley meant nothing if her husband was elsewhere.
“A copper for your thoughts,” Darcy said as he approached.
Elizabeth bestowed a brilliant smile upon him. “I’d just considered how fortunate I am to be your wife. To be at Pemberley would be heavenly, but not without your presence. Though I must admit that sometimes when we’re there, I imagine our hearts beating in tandem.” Her frankness always appeared to have the oddest effect on Darcy. His eyes devoured her.
“Even when I thought I’d lost you forever, I lived with hope. I am thankful you became my
“You have me now, Mr. Darcy,” she said, keeping her voice light.
His steely grey eyes turned onyx. “And I bless each day because of your love.”
As they stared lovingly at each other, the innkeeper’s wife hustled toward the kitchen, and Elizabeth impulsively turned to the woman. “Mrs. Washington.”
“Yes, Mrs. Darcy?” The pleasingly plump woman brushed a hair’s strand from her flushed face.
Elizabeth caught Darcy’s hand to pull him along with her as she approached the harrowed-looking woman. “I realize you’re terribly busy and probably haven’t considered how close Christmas Day might be.”
The woman sighed deeply. “Me and Mr. Washington planned a quiet day, but the English weather be having other ideas.”
“Would you mind, Ma’am, if Mr. Darcy and I cut some greenery and brought it back to the inn? A bit of the festive days?”
“Are you certain, Elizabeth?” Darcy asked. She knew he worried she might overdo it.
“Please, Fitzwilliam. I want Christmas; I really want Christmas at Pemberley, but if that proves impossible, I want Christmas here. I cannot tolerate bare rooms and nothing recognizing the day’s meaning.”
Darcy nodded. She noted something secretive passing over his countenance, but Elizabeth assumed he had bought her something expensive, and it awaited her at Pemberley. “I’ll see if I can recruit several of the other gentlemen. We’ll cut the branches while you supervise. I’m sure Padget and Horvak will want some exercise.” He started away to where the men sat playing cards.
“See if any of the gents be interested in some hunting,” Mrs. Washington said to Darcy’s back.
He turned to her. “Why is that necessary, Ma’am? Is there something we should know?”
“Well, Mr. Washington be unhappy with me mentioning it, but we didn’t plan for so many guests for the days before Christmas. Supplies be getting’ a bit low. Feeding ten folks, yer help, plus our workers and arn selves takes
