Bennet celebrations differed hugely from the sedate festivities at Pemberley, but everyone delighted in the story telling. With his customary flair, George related the long ago holiday memories, clear from his dramatizing that the Darcy children of his generation possessed few of the strict manners of later generations.
“It was the only night of the year that we did not argue about retiring in our anxiousness to greet the dawn and open presents. And the only night we did not sneak into Estella’s room after we were supposed to be asleep.” George chuckled. “Our parents were ignorant of how late we often extended our ordered curfew, romping and mischief making until nearly midnight upon occasion.”
“I doubt if they were as ignorant as you surmise,” Darcy interjected with a smile, continuing at his uncle’s questioning look. “Grandfather once said to me, when I was seven or so and upon the occasion of a visit from my cousin Anne with Richard and Jonathan here as well, that now I could, ‘disobey as children ought, by pretending to be abed before traipsing the darkened halls to cavort with your siblings.’”
Richard was laughing. “Oh yes, I remember that! And I also remember how surprised you were, William, and Anne as well. Poor souls with no conspirators about on a regular basis! You two were scandalized at the idea of disobeying a parent.”
“And you managed to break me sufficiently of that ridiculous notion. Bursting into my room with Anne being pulled along by Jonathan. I nearly screamed in fright. Dear Anne looked ready to collapse. This one”—he indicated Richard while glancing about at the grinning faces of his audience—“had gone so far as to steal food from the kitchen!”
“Ah yes. Fun times,” Richard said, his face radiating puckishness.
George, however, was mournful. “I can’t believe they knew! Rather spoils the whole purpose of being naughty and breaking the rules if the authority figure is aware of it. I am crushed.”
“Do not be dismayed, Dr. Darcy,” Mrs. Gardiner offered placatingly. “I imagine there was a wealth of roguish misbehavior they never knew of.” George brightened considerably.
“How does one celebrate Christmas in India, Doctor?” Mary asked.
“It varied depending on where I was at the time. The English compounds held lavish parties, upholding the traditions for the children. But quite often I was traveling about. I never heeded calendar dates, simply going where I was needed or as whimsy inspired me. Obviously, the indigenous peoples of India do not celebrate Christmas.”
“Did you not receive any gifts?” Kitty asked in shock, her young mind stunned at the idea.
George laughed. “I had little need of additional trinkets or possessions, Miss Kitty. I traveled with the barest necessities and my quarters in Bombay were modest. James always sent me something special, although I rarely received it before Christmas. I had a few close friends, both Christian and not, who expressed their affection with a token. In later years I had a dear friend who set the day aside, furnished me with a gift, and insisted I honor the birth of my Savior, even while gently teasing me about it.” His smile was soft, eyes dreamy for several seconds before he shrugged, the lopsided grin again in place as he met Kitty’s eyes. “Of course, shaking the gift was always an imperative! Have you shaken and guessed your gifts yet, Georgie?”
His gaze slid to Georgiana, the young woman startling and reddening instantly as her guilty eyes snapped briefly to Darcy even as she exclaimed, “Of course not!”
Laughter rang out. Darcy pretended a stern scowl, his smile evident nonetheless. “Shaking presents is forbidden in the Darcy household. Is that not so, Georgiana?”
“Yes, Brother.”
But she glanced at George from under her lashes, meeting his wink with twinkling eyes.
It was early yet when Lizzy cornered her husband where he stood for a moment’s solitary contemplation by a far window. She laid one hand gently on his arm, Darcy turning with a ready smile.
“Penny for your thoughts, Mr. Darcy.”
“My thoughts are all of you and our family, my heart, and therefore priceless treasures.”
“So romantic you are my darling. Impressive.”
Unconsciously, he reached to stroke her cheek with a fingertip. “Must be the brandy, reminiscences, and excessive body heat pervading the room causing my mind to become all foggy and nonsensical.”
“Whatever the stimulus, do not cease as I am deeply affected by the sentiments.” She ran one hand lightly down the lapels of his jacket, holding his tenderly piercing gaze. “It is time for Alexander’s last meal. May I ask a favor? Can you form a polite reason to excuse yourself early and join us? I crave your undivided company and cuddling before the fire on our second Christmas Eve together.”
He smiled, that singular smile that lit his entire being and was only for her, touching even his vocal cords as evidenced by the huskiness in his voice. “Nothing could be simpler, beloved. I will be right behind you.”
And he was. Lizzy never knew the excuse he gave, although she would have been surprised to learn it was nothing more than the truth. Darcy declared that he wished to spend the evening alone with his wife and son, bowed gracefully if abruptly, and hastily exited the room. Having washed and divested himself of all clothing but his shirt and breeches, he entered the nursery as Lizzy was finishing the exhilarating task of nursing their son. He happily assumed the chore of final burping and rocking to sleep while Lizzy retreated to her dressing room.
Lizzy returned, pausing on the threshold and smiling at the scene. Darcy held Alexander as he rocked, whispering silly phrases of love and singing in his off-key resonant tones, bringing to life the vision of her dream from so long ago. That prescient image of Darcy calling their baby by name had cemented in her heart that they were to have a son. Brought to life innumerable times already, watching their son being adored by his father never ceased to move her.
“Is he asleep?” She whispered.
Darcy nodded, kissing the top of Alexander’s curly head. “Out for the duration I believe. Yet I do have a difficult time parting from him, even knowing he is likely more comfortable on his cushiony mattress.”
“I rather doubt he prefers the cradle to his papa’s warmth, but tonight I want you for myself.” Darcy looked at her with a raised brow and lilt to his full lips. “Yes, my selfishness unmasked. Put him down, love, and I will tell Mrs. Hanford we are retiring.”
That accomplished, Lizzy laced her fingers between Darcy’s, bending for a final kiss to the baby’s forehead before steering him out the door. To his surprise she bypassed their temporary bedchamber, leading unerringly through the sitting room to the Master suite. Darcy had barely stepped foot in this room for nearly a month, almost forgetting how cozy and spacious it was, not to mention how much larger the bed. He crossed the threshold, Lizzy’s hand warm in his, and halted thunderstruck.
A fire blazed, casting glows of red and amber across the bearskin rug and pillows before the hearth. A scattering of candles and oil lamps were lit, but the room was muted in soft rays of gold, warm and incredibly inviting. A bottle of champagne sat by the turned down bed, fluted glasses alongside a tray of fruits and sweets.
Lizzy had moved a few paces away, still clutching his hand, watching the dawning enlightenment spread over his features as his glittering blue eyes swept the scene and returned to her face. She smiled at the expression of mingled childish enthusiasm and raging ardor, his grin both breathtakingly seductive and frivolously exuberant. He truly was speechless.
She stepped closer, eyes shining as passion rose, raising the free hand to feather fingertips over his chest. “Merry Christmas, Fitzwilliam.”
For a span of several harsh breaths they stared at each other, ignoring everything beyond their acutely alive bodies. Darcy pressed Lizzy’s hand flat against his rapidly rising chest, her palm instantly burning as his skin transmit flares of heat through the linen of his shirt. Lizzy ached for his touch, yet she held still waiting for him to move. His eyes penetrated her soul, searing through her mind and body as he studied her intently as only he could.
The moments stretched, Darcy finally bending in increments that were agonizing in their sluggishness until he was inches from her upturned lips. His blue eyes were openly gazing into her brown depths, voice a bare hoarse whisper with breath brushing her sensitized mouth when he spoke.
“Are you absolutely certain, Elizabeth? Positive you are fully healed and ready for me? No reservations whatsoever? I must know because I do not think myself capable of stopping once we start. My desire for you, my hunger, burns as a consuming fire. God, how I need you, my Lizzy!”
She was already nodding as he teased the tip of his tongue over her lips. Involuntarily, a faint moaning sigh escaped her throat, Darcy shuddering as he fought for control. The urge to sweep her into his arms, carry her to
