Christmas at Pemberley

sit beside Elizabeth. Capturing her hand, he brought it to his lap. “This should be entertaining.”

She returned his whisper. “I cannot believe you went to all this trouble.”

“I wanted this to be a Christmastide like no other.”

Elizabeth squeezed his hand. “Do you not think you have succeeded, my husband?”

Darcy chuckled. “I suppose I have.”

“Our tale tonight begins with Saint George,” one of the mummers announced. The performer wore a high paper cap and a beribboned jacket. “But he’s not our only hero.”

Thirty minutes later, Darcy’s houseguests and his cottagers cheered for the motley actors. “I never thought to see Marco Polo and Napoleon in a play with Saint George and Admiral Nelson,” Bingley laughed as he leaned toward Darcy. “But somehow it worked.”

“The absurdity should’ve screamed ridiculous, but the juxtaposition was entertaining,” Elizabeth responded.

Darcy looked around to note the musicians’ arrival. “Excuse me,” he said to Bingley. “I’ll have Mr. Nathan pay the performers.” As he stepped away, Miss Bingley shadowed him for several steps before he turned to address her. “Do you require something, Miss Bingley?” She glanced around at his cottagers and unconsciously wrinkled her nose. The gesture made Darcy infinitely glad that he hadn’t chosen her as his wife.

“I was wondering whether to expect Mr. Manneville to join us?”

In concern, Darcy studied her face. He couldn’t divulge what he knew of Manneville, and even though her pretentiousness often displeased him, he wouldn’t have Caroline Bingley injured by the man’s duplicity. He quickly decided to speak privately to Bingley on the morrow regarding his sister’s interest in Manneville. “I understand that Mr. Manneville hasn’t taken well to our good English fare — too foreign for the American’s tastes.”

“After so many days?” she questioned. “It seems most strange.”

“Mayhap it’s that blasted coffee he drinks so much of,” Darcy remarked. “English tea is better for the constitution. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve duties to perform.”

A few minutes later, the musicians tuned their instruments in preparation for the evening’s dancing. “Mrs. Darcy,” he extended his hand to Elizabeth. “Would you do me the honor of the first dance?”

Elizabeth rose to take his hand, but she said,“I would be tolerably pleased, Mr. Darcy.”

His heart leapt with pride. “Am I tolerable enough to tempt you, Madam?” he teased.

“I am of a humor to give consequence to the right gentleman.”

He adored the way she twisted his words from the Meryton assembly. “Then I am blessed, Mrs. Darcy, to have chosen a woman of discriminating tastes.”

“That you are, Mr. Darcy.”

He laughed at her light-hearted manner. That was the Elizabeth with whom he’d fallen in love. At Netherfield, when she argued with him, his Elizabeth’s fine eyes sparkled in challenge, and he’d filled his consciousness exclusively with her countenance’s memory. Several others within his party partnered for this opening set: Mary and Mr. Grange; Anne and Southland; Mr. and Mrs. Bingley; Kitty and Winkler, Georgiana and Edward; and Mr. and Mrs. Bennet. His friends and family honored him and his estate with their attendance, and Darcy would fondly remember this moment. Normally, he, Elizabeth, and Georgiana would stay an hour and then depart. The more ale his cottagers drank, the cruder their language, and he’d not expose his ladies to the boisterousness, but perhaps they might stay a bit longer this evening. He was in the mood to dance with his wife.

As he and Elizabeth occupied a position at the floor’s center, a rather loud whisper took hold. “Kiss her.” The chant began on their left and soon spread to those milling about the open space. Darcy looked up to find an elaborate mistletoe wreath about their heads. “What say you, Mrs. Darcy?” He grinned mischievously at her — offering Elizabeth a dare.

Elizabeth lifted her chin, and Darcy bent to kiss her cheek. Immediately, a groan of disapproval arose. “Kiss her,” the chant became louder.

“Will you accept my return, my dear?” He saw immediately how much she was enjoying this mockery. What Elizabeth didn’t realize was that he wanted to kiss her before everyone who mattered to him: to claim her before his world.

“Please, Elizabeth.” Georgiana giggled.

Elizabeth’s voice was honey sweet. “My lips shall make the sacrifice, Mr. Darcy.” She puckered good- naturedly.

Darcy removed two berries from the wreath before he caught her chin and lifted it gently. Her placid taunt faded quickly. Gentlemen didn’t kiss their ladies in public, but he intended to kiss her, to tell the world of his love. Darcy’s mouth touched hers — not a brush of his lips — but a tender acknowledgment of their devotion. Without an audience, the kiss would’ve led to a more intimate encounter, and everyone realized it, especially Elizabeth, who blushed thoroughly. “Very nice,” he murmured as a cheer arose among the onlookers.

Throughout the evening, Darcy noted how often Edward had stolen a kiss from Georgiana. Although he knew his cousin’s suit sincere, the reality caused his heart to lurch uncontrollably. “May I claim the next dance?” he asked as he stepped beside his sister.

“I thought you’d never ask.” Georgiana slid her hand into his, and he placed it on his arm. Before Elizabeth, they’d attended the Tenants’ balls together.

He placed her at the line’s head — a place of honor such as she would always hold in his heart. “I’ve missed you, Sweetheart. I feel you’ve grown up overnight,” he whispered close to her ear before stepping backward to assume his place in the line.

“But I have not, Fitzwilliam,” she said softly. “I’ve suffered all the humiliations of a green girl. Now, I wish to claim a different life.” They’d come together for the dance’s first pass.

As they circled one another, Darcy asked, “And Edward can provide that life?”

“The colonel is what I seek,” Georgiana said with a tilt of defiance to her chin. He recognized it as one of Elizabeth’s traits. Did his sister mimic his wife or was it an innate female trait?

They wove their separate ways through the opposing line. When they came together again, he said, “Elizabeth says you’ll carry our mother’s quintessence into the world, and Edward will nourish that lifeblood in you. I know that’s true, but as your brother, I’m forlorn with the possibility of losing you.”

“You’ll never lose me, Fitzwilliam. Your influence and love have molded me into the person I’ve become.” On the next pass, she added, “As much as I wish to remain at Pemberley forever… ” They parted again, and it was several more dance turns before she could finish. “…a woman must leave behind her parents and her loved ones to join her husband.”

With resignation, Darcy murmured, “At least, Edward means you’re still close.”

Chapter 20

“Explain the letters.” Edward and Southland questioned Manneville. Darcy’s party had returned to the main house an hour earlier, but the colonel, taking his aide aside, had excused himself immediately.

Manneville lounged casually against the pillows propped behind his head. “What letters?”

Edward paced the area at the foot of the man’s bed. “Damn you! You know what letters. Those found in this box.” He tossed the slender box onto the bed beside Manneville’s leg.

“Is it now a crime to possess letters in England? What a country this has become!” Manneville said sarcastically.

Edward braced his hands on the ornate footboard. “It’s not a crime unless those said letters belong to