Christmas at Pemberley (34 page)

“Shall you join us, Edward?” Georgiana had discovered him in Darcy's study. “We'll take advantage of the ice you've seen fit to design.”

“It was all Southland's doing,” he insisted. He sat back in the chair and smiled at her. “Has someone claimed your hand, Cousin? If not, I'll seek your company.”

A powerful desire to rush into his arms took Georgiana by surprise. “I can think of nothing that I'd enjoy more. We gather in the main foyer on the half hour.”

Edward shot a quick glance at the mantel clock. “Perfect. The roads are clearing, and I've sent word to the Earl of my return, as well as having my report ready for my superiors. However, I've one more letter to address.”

“Anyone I know?” she asked teasingly, all the while praying that he didn't correspond with another woman.

“Not unless you're familiar with the Prince Regent's inner circle.”

Georgiana experienced disappointment's twinge. He hadn't denied writing to another—perhaps a romantic liaison upon his return to town. Within his entourage, the Prince kept company with many beautiful women. “I'll see you in a few minutes.” With a quick curtsy, Georgiana quit the room.

 

Edward watched her go and wondered what he'd said that brought the frown to her forehead. “Maybe it's something I didn't say. A man's always on tentative ground with a woman,” he said aloud.

Two things had brought him to Darcy's study on this day. The first was his continued suspicion that Mr. Manneville wasn't what he pretended to be. Edward had followed his superiors' orders in escorting the man to England, but it made no sense that the British government would take an interest in this particular American. So, today he had written a newsy letter to Mercer Elphinstone's stepmother and father. Admiral George Elphinstone, Viscount Keith, was a friend and distant relative of Edward's father. He had announced his safe return to England and had mentioned Mr. Manneville. He just hoped that the Elphinstones were in residence in London rather than in Scotland. With luck, Lady Elphinstone would inform her stepdaughter of his letter and word would spread among those who attended the Prince—this simple letter could answer some nagging questions.

The other worrisome issue was his uncharacteristic response to Georgiana. Last evening, he'd dreamed of their waltz in this very study—waking totally befuddled by his reaction to her.
“What would happen if I approached my cousin?”
he wondered, not for the first time.
“Would Georgiana accept me? Moreover, would Darcy allow it?”
Edward tossed his letter onto the edge of the desk.
“I'm an Earl's son and have my own fortune,”
he argued with an imaginary opponent.

Would Darcy entrust him with Georgiana's future? His cousin would have no fear of her husband ever learning of her foolish attempt at an elopement with George Wickham at age fifteen. Edward already knew of how Darcy had unexpectedly joined Georgiana a day or two before the intended elopement and had foiled Wickham's plans. She could enjoy her future rather than live in the past. Georgiana's affectionate heart could grow under his tutelage.

“First, allow me to see if I can win the lady's promise before I
consider facing her brother, a task I may not survive. Perhaps another year on the American front might be less dangerous.” Edward laughed as he stood and reached for the letter. “‘Battle-scarred' may describe my domestic interactions instead of my military ones.”

Her husband had expected Elizabeth to sleep, but it was he who nodded off. Elizabeth watched as his head rocked gently back and forth with the coach's sway. Darcy was a magnificent man, handsome and fit, but more importantly, he was a kind and generous person. He had raised Georgiana, had assumed the responsibility of Pemberley, had protected her family even when he'd thought she and he had no future, and he had loved her enough to set aside his former prejudices to give them a chance to find happiness.

First checking Darcy's sleep again, Elizabeth reached for her reticule. She'd awakened this morning to find another of Darcy's letters beside her pillow. With the Josephs in the room, she had had no opportunity to read her husband's words, and had quickly stuffed the missive into her bag. Now, Elizabeth removed it and broke the wax seal. Unfolding it, she adjusted her seat so she could use the afternoon's sunlight streaming through the coach's window. With a deep, contented sigh, she began to read.

As they often did when she read his letters, her tears returned, but they were happy tears. By some miracle, she had earned this man's love and devotion. Instinctively, her fingers lightly massaged her stomach's swell. Darcy's child grew within her, and she could think of nothing as precious as the possibilities. She'd soon hold their child. No longer did she doubt that fact.

Noting Darcy's stirring, Elizabeth quickly dashed away her tears and returned the letter to her bag. It would join the others in her portmanteau to be savored in private moments over and over again.

“Did you sleep?” Darcy asked as he righted his clothing.

“Not yet. I'm too excited about returning home—returning to Pemberley.When shall we arrive?”

Darcy glanced out the coach's window at the melting landscape. “With no obstacles, midafternoon tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. Do you suppose that Georgiana has hung the holly and has addressed the decorations for the Tenants' Ball?”

Darcy's eyes flashed in amusement. “You've tutored my sister, and she'll perform to your expectations; but even if Georgiana were not to address her duties, Mrs. Reynolds would see to the task.”

“I forget how dispensable I am as Pemberley's mistress,” Elizabeth said wryly.

“Your value lies not in the day-to-day running of the estate, Elizabeth. I could hire someone to do that.You're Pemberley's heart and soul—as was my mother.”

Tears misted her eyes—
watering pot, again
, she thought. Darcy had given her the ultimate compliment: He'd compared her influence on Pemberley to that of Lady Anne Darcy. “Thank you, Fitzwilliam,” she murmured. She focused on the changes in Darcy's countenance from the expression of concern to that of love. “Then we'll arrive in time for services.”

“Yes, Sweetheart. In plenty of time, as long as you're not too tired.”

“As Pemberley's mistress, I must appear at church. People would judge the Darcy name poorly if I shirked my duties.”

Darcy raised an eyebrow. “Your resolve is admirable, but you'll make your health a priority,” he ordered.

“Yes, Mr. Darcy,” she said contritely. Elizabeth knew she'd attend the services despite what her husband had just said, and her husband knew that as well. They wouldn't fight over it. It would just happen. Darcy would grumble, especially if Elizabeth appeared travel worn, but he'd allow her to attend Mr. Winkler's Christmas services. During Mrs. Joseph's delivery, Elizabeth had thought long and hard on what Mary Joseph had called “Fate.” Elizabeth had never considered the role of fate and prayer. She believed in God's existence, but not His hand in her daily life.Yet, Mary, a clergyman's
wife, seemed so assured of God's choices. “Have you thought of God's role in our earlier losses, Fitzwilliam?” she said softly.

Darcy shifted uncomfortably on the bench seat. “We've never spoken of our personal beliefs, have we? I mean, of our thoughts about God's presence.”

“I don't know how I can think on it,” Elizabeth admitted. “How can I consider that God in His infinite wisdom chose for us to remain childless? If so, then that means we have been unworthy in His estimation, and as I know your goodness, my husband, it must be I who's been unworthy.”

“Oh, Elizabeth, do not speak as such. God will see us as parents in due time.”

His voice's emptiness didn't escape Elizabeth's notice. “I want to hear Mr. Winkler's sermon on the Christ child's birth. It's important to me, Fitzwilliam. It's important to witness God's hand at work.”

“Were you able to find what you needed in the attic trunk?” Georgiana asked Kitty as they gathered in the foyer. Everyone had donned winter wear.

“I did. Thank you for your generosity.”

“What did you seek, Kitten?” Mr. Bennet asked from beside his daughter.

Kitty's expression foretold her pleasure in sharing. “Something special for the Foxmour family.”

Mr. Winkler joined them. “What of the Foxmours?”

Georgiana noted the man's new possessiveness with Kitty. “A simple day dress—one discarded after my time at Ramsgate.”

Mr. Bennet's eyebrow rose in curiosity. “Surely Miss Darcy's dress has nothing to do with her brother's tenant.”

Kitty blushed, but she said, “The Foxmour children drew the perfect dress for their grandmother. I took one of Miss Darcy's former dresses and with Hannah's and Meg's help, I added lace and
a bit of embroidery. Then I had Thomas deliver it to the Foxmours. I thought the lady could wear it for all eternity.”

“Miss Catherine, that is all kindness, but the Foxmours aren't used to such finery,” Winkler warned.

“Thorne, please trust me,” Kitty whispered. To her father, she said, “I chose a plain dark blue day dress—one from Miss Darcy's schoolroom days. I cut away the beads and trim and added bits of lace to the neckline and cuffs. It's no longer a dress a fine lady might wear. It is one in which a household's matriarch might meet God.”

Mr. Bennet squeezed Kitty's hand. “You were always most clever with a needle. I am certain that you've done the Foxmours a great honor.”

“I just wanted Nell and Mavis and Tavia to see their creation come to life. Life, even in Death.” She turned again to Winkler, needing his approval. “Was I so wrong?”

His countenance softened immediately. “No. No, you were the most generous of God's creatures in this matter.”

“Now that that's settled,” Georgiana observed, “we should join the others at the pond.”

 

“Am I forgiven?” Kitty whispered as she accepted Winkler's arm.

“There's nothing to forgive, my dear. A man of God couldn't find fault with a compassionate soul, and as I'm inclined to favor you above all others, I am content simply to have you at my side.”

“Please don't placate me, Thorne. I must understand where the objection lies. I only wanted to make the girls happy,” she puzzled.

Winkler cupped her hand with his free one. “You will,” he said softly. After a brief pause, he added, “It's a fine balance a person must walk. One cannot simply rush in to save the world. Instead, a man must extend his hand while not stealing another man's dignity in the same instance.”

“Did I steal Mr. Foxmour's worth?” she asked in concern.

Winkler smiled lovingly. “Absolutely not. You gave from the heart.You're exactly the type of person this community needs—the
type of person I need, Catherine.” He allowed the others to outdistance them. “If I were to offer a caution, it would be to remind you that you cannot place one of Mr. Darcy's cottagers above the others without causing your brother in marriage additional difficulties. Mr. Darcy often must settle disputes between his tenants. If he would rule with Foxmour over another, it would seem that he did so to please his wife's sister.”

“But Mr. Darcy would never do anything so dishonorable,” Kitty protested.