Christmas at Pemberley (12 page)

Darcy directed Mrs. Joseph through the common room and up the narrow stairs leading to the sleeping rooms. He tapped lightly on the door, and it swung wide to admit them.

“Oh, thank Goodness!” Elizabeth reached for Mrs. Joseph's hand. “I feared you might refuse Mr. Darcy. Come in. Please, come in where it's warm. Oh, my. Your hands are icy cold.”

“Thank you for your kindness, Mrs. Darcy.” Mrs. Joseph's cheeks pinked. She let Elizabeth lead her to the hearth. “In…in the stable… this seemed more reasonable… than it does… does in this room,” she said nervously.

Elizabeth flitted from one place to another. “As you see, with Nan's assistance, I have moved the dresser and have added a screen, essentially dividing the room in half.”

“Privacy will still be an issue, Mrs. Darcy,” her husband said from behind her.

“It's true,” Elizabeth turned to him, “but if Mr. Betts and Mr. Dylan—two complete strangers—can share a room, and Mr. Horvak and Sir Jonathan can share, as well as Mr. Rennick and Mr. Livingstone, then surely we might find a way. It's only for a day or two.”

Darcy smiled at her enthusiasm—Elizabeth's happiness was infectious. “We've agreed in spirit, Mrs. Darcy. We're simply looking for guidance on how to proceed.”

Elizabeth began to pace the small open area in the room's middle. “Well, we'll make pallets for the Josephs before the hearth.”

“We all assumed as such, Mrs. Darcy,” he teased.

“The gentlemen will sleep in…” Elizabeth gestured wildly with her hands.

Darcy chuckled as she blushed. He had wondered what she might say about the sleeping arrangements. In fact, he had anticipated this moment from the instant that she had “ordered” him to seek out the Josephs. Ideals were one thing, but reality was quite another. However, when Elizabeth turned to him with pleading eyes, Darcy melted. “Let me see.” He paused awkwardly. “I suppose the ladies could dress for bed first.”

“While the men wait downstairs,” Elizabeth interrupted.

“And we'll be completely covered when you return,” Mrs. Joseph added.

Elizabeth picked up on the woman's thoughts. “We could leave one candle burning until the men's return. When they rejoin us, they will extinguish the light and prepare for bed in the darkened room.”

Mrs. Joseph gestured toward the hearth. “The fireplace and the moonlight should be bright enough for them to complete their preparations.”

Elizabeth's countenance brightened. “See, Fitzwilliam. It can work.”

“I never doubted it, my dear.” He moved to answer Mr. Joseph's knock. “Come in,” he said to the man. “While you and Jasper have been retrieving your belongings, Joseph, our ladies have worked out the logistics. I told you our wives were quite sensible.”

The man looked suspiciously at Darcy, but his wife showed Darcy's servant where to place their things. “Now, Matthew,” she said, taking the extra blankets from his hands, “I want you and Mr. Darcy to go downstairs and enjoy a few drinks with the other men. Do not return for, at least, an hour.” She shot a glance at Elizabeth,
who nodded her agreement. “Mrs. Darcy and I shall have everything settled by then.”

“Are you certain, Mary, that this is what you want?” Mr. Joseph asked seriously.

His wife squeezed his hand. “It's as it should be, Matthew. For reasons we don't understand, we're supposed to be here at this time. At least, my hands are warm.” Mrs. Joseph smiled pointedly at him.

“As you wish, Mary,” he said softly. Turning quickly on his heels, Mr. Joseph strode from the room. “Come, Mr. Darcy. We must socialize.”

 

The door closed softly behind her husband before Mrs. Joseph dropped her guard. “Tell me, Mrs. Darcy, why you've chosen this path? Why is it imperative that Mr. Joseph and I share these quarters?”

Elizabeth's eyebrows twitched in disbelief. “If you're asking if I see this as an act of charity—one to feather my own list of good deeds, then you'll be sadly disappointed.” Trying to discover the words to explain the unexplainable, Elizabeth bit her bottom lip. “I don't know that I can describe my thoughts well enough to satisfy your understanding. I'm searching for order and reason amongst the chaos that would allow a man such as my husband to know the pain of burying both his parents and to experience what seems impossible—that he has had to shoulder the devastation of losing two children before he could hold either in his arms. I am fiercely indignant at the world's injustices, and I'm fighting in my own disjointed way to ease the pain that God has left behind. Maybe by seeing to your needs, I'm healing my own heart and that of Mr. Darcy, as well.”

Mrs. Joseph nodded curtly. “Then let's heal the discord—make our own happy endings.”

“Blur the line between appearance and truth?” Elizabeth regarded the woman thoughtfully.

“Exactly.”

“What do you suppose they're doing up there?” Mr. Joseph grumbled as he and Darcy sipped ale. They had endured the ribbing of the others—some of it quite bawdy in nature.

“As my Elizabeth is a very practical woman, I suspect that she and Mrs. Joseph are arranging the sleeping situation and calculating how best to proceed.”

Joseph's smile had a mocking edge. “Mrs. Joseph is as levelheaded as they come. I'm blessed by my wife's good sense.”

Darcy examined the contents of his glass. “Then we're back to square one: We should trust our wives to do the proper thing in this matter.”

“Greatness tipped Anne, even as a child,” Lady Catherine announced to a shocked room. Instead of praising Mary's performance on the pianoforte, Her Ladyship extolled Anne's non-existent musical ability.

At a nearby table, Mr. Collins reinforced his patron's words. “Absolutely. A woman of distinguished birth. Apparent on first glance. Miss De Bourgh is far superior to the handsomest of her sex.”

Mr. Bennet trumped the card Mr. Collins played. “It is happy for you that you possess the talent of flattery with delicacy, Collins.” Mr. Bennet winked at Mary.

Collins ignored Bennet's comment. “I thought I might read aloud from
Fordyce's Sermons
after a few card hands if anyone would care to join me in the library.”

Georgiana noticed that Anne blushed from her mother's false praise, but she said nothing. Instead, Anne kept her head down and attended to her embroidery. “I'm sorry, Anne,” Georgiana whispered as she bent to inspect her cousin's work.

Anne glanced up briefly. “I should be accustomed to it, but the platitudes are hard to bear before so many witnesses.”

Georgiana touched the stitching as if to point out an error. Having recalled many nights when she comforted a distraught
Cousin Anne, Georgiana said, “My aunt brings attention to you for reflected glory. If you're everything she claims, Lady Catherine hasn't failed as a mother.”

“How did you become so astute?” Anne asked quietly.

Georgiana shrugged. “It's the Darcy blood… always so reasonable. It's the Fitzwilliam family blood that holds the emotional response.”

“Play for us, Georgiana,” Anne encouraged. “Let us hear the emotions.”

Georgiana smiled warmly. “That may be exactly what I need to stay my anxiety.”

Mr. Nathan cleared his throat from behind her. “Excuse me, Miss Darcy. A report from the gatehouse indicates visitors on the main entrance.”

Georgiana breathed a relief's sigh. “It must be Fitzwilliam and Mrs. Darcy,” she whispered. She shot a quick glance to where Lady Catherine continued to play her fish. “I would prefer to inform my brother of the additions to his household before he and Elizabeth make their entrances. Excuse me,Anne.” She nodded her departure. “Come with me, Kitty. I may need your support.”

“But Elizabeth isn't to know that I'm here,” Kitty reminded her.

“We'll think of something.” Georgiana tugged Kitty along behind her as they made their way to the main foyer.

Darcy tapped lightly on the door to signal his and Mr. Joseph's entrance. “Come in,” Elizabeth called from the semidarkness.

Darcy eased the door open and slid into the rearranged room. Nodding to Joseph, he silently made his way to where Elizabeth lay curled under the blanket. A single candle lit the space. He began to remove his jacket and boots.

Mr. Joseph made his way gingerly across the altered space. Mrs. Joseph rested on a mat before the hearth. Two folding screens separated the areas.

“Tell me when I can extinguish the candle,” Darcy said aloud.

Joseph didn't answer, but Darcy could hear the man moving about so he assumed that Joseph had heard him. Darcy removed his cravat and waistcoat and draped them over a chair back. Then he waited for Mr. Joseph to finish his undressing. “You can put out the candle, Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Joseph's deep voice filled the room.

Obediently, Darcy blew out the flame and then removed his shirt. He slid under the blanket and took his wife in his arms. Darcy spooned Elizabeth's body with his and silently kissed behind her ear. “I love you,” he whispered.

Automatically, Elizabeth rolled over to press herself to him. She lightly kissed his chest and breathed the words, “Thank you.”

Darcy kept his mouth close to her ear. “You owe me, Mrs. Darcy.” He purposely ran his tongue over her ear's folds. “And when we escape this small crisis, I'll have my price.”

“Which is?” She smiled against his chest.

Darcy sucked on Elizabeth's ear lobe. “You know as well as I, Elizabeth.” Then he kissed her tenderly. Settling her comfortably in his arms, he turned to bury his face in her hair. Inhaling the scent of lavender, he said softly, “Good night, my love.”

Georgiana and Kitty raced along the passage and down the main staircase. “We'll tell Elizabeth that your parents allowed you to return to Pemberley because you were lonely now that Miss Bennet is engaged.”

“Elizabeth will never believe I miss Mary's company,” Kitty objected.

Georgiana tutted her disagreement. “We just need for our sister to believe us long enough for her to reach the drawing room to greet your family.”

They waited impatiently for the Darcys' arrival, each girl fidgeting with her dress. Then Mr. Nathan opened the door, and instead of Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, three winter-cloaked gentlemen strode
through the opening. Both girls stood in awe of the men—all fine specimens of maleness. “Oh, my,” Kitty swallowed her words. She clawed at Georgiana's arm.

But Georgiana stood frozen in place. The man in front held her mesmerized.A year—more than a year had passed since she had last seen him, but he remained as before. Solid. Raven haired. Smoky blue eyes. Eyes that appeared to look through her.
See me
. Georgiana willed herself not to say the words. He was not quite as tall as Fitzwilliam, and the man's broad shoulders filled Georgiana's gaze. “Edward!” she called and launched herself into his waiting arms. In his embrace, Georgiana inhaled him deeply. He smelled of cold and leather and sweat and the spicy cologne he always had worn. “Thank God, you've returned to us.”