Christmas at Pemberley (9 page)

Mr. Bennet winked at his daughter. “I gladly bequeath my daughter's religious development to you, young man.”

“I assure you, Mr. Bennet, that Miss Catherine doesn't require my guidance.Your daughter brings honor to your household.”

When Georgiana shot her a warning glare, Lady Catherine stifled a snort of derision.

Mr. Bennet ignored Lady Catherine's unbecoming behavior. “Of which daughter do you speak, Mr. Winkler? After all, Mrs. Darcy is also my daughter,” he said teasingly.

“Papa, stop it!” Kitty protested. “Mr.Winkler's not aware of your propensity to twist people's words.”

Mr. Bennet chuckled. “Very well, Kitty. I will spare the gentleman for the time being.”

Kitty flushed, but Georgiana would've bet it wasn't from embarrassment.
When had Kitty and Mr. Winkler moved to a more intimate stage?
Georgiana's need to speak to Kitty privately increased.

Mr. Collins explained, “When Mrs. Collins and I could secure no other transportation, I called on Mr. Winkler, and the gentleman was kind enough to escort us to Pemberley personally in his gig.”

“His gig?” Mrs. Bingley gasped. “My, Charlotte, you must be chilled through. Come nearer the hearth. Let me pour you some tea. We have not seen you in well over a year.” Jane gestured to a cluster of chairs.

Mr. Bingley followed his wife's lead. “You, too, Collins. Winkler. Please join us for tea. Miss Darcy has most graciously provided us with the best of Pemberley's hospitality.”

“I believe my niece is capable of welcoming her own guests, Sir,” Lady Catherine intoned. Her words stilled the room.

Georgiana blushed, but she managed to say, “In my brother
and sister's absence, I hold no objection to Mr. and Mrs. Bingley's assistance. After all, we're family and close acquaintances.”

“Thank you, Miss Darcy,” Jane said softly. “As Mr. Collins is a Bennet cousin and Mrs. Collins is a long-time neighbor from Hertfordshire, it seemed only fitting to offer my subvention in Elizabeth's stead, but I would never think to circumvent your position at Pemberley.”

Lady Catherine had created a rift in the group's rapport.“Of course not, Mrs. Bingley. I would never criticize anything of your doing.”

“This is an excellent room,” Mr. Collins observed as he shot a glance at Lady Catherine. “Of course, it is nothing when compared to Rosings Park.”

Mr. Bennet chuckled. “Beware, Collins, that you don't offend the man who offers you hospitality despite his absence. Praising Her Ladyship would be advisable only if you cannot offend Mr. Darcy, unless you've a deep desire to be driven into the elements.”

Collins blustered, “I meant no offense, Miss Darcy. Both estates are magnificent in their own rights.”

Georgiana bit back her retort. To think that anyone might attempt to compare the two was ridiculous. Pemberley's rooms were lofty and handsome, displaying Fitzwilliam's taste; they were neither gaudy nor uselessly fine—with less of splendor and more real elegance than the furniture of Rosings. “No offense taken, Mr. Collins. Rosings Park is a grand estate fitting my aunt's position as an Earl's daughter and a baronet's wife. Pemberley reflects the same noble line on the maternal side, and on my father's, a respectable, honorable, and ancient, though untitled family.” With some satisfaction Georgiana noted her aunt's raised brow and her cousin's smirk of amusement.

“I'm certain my husband regrets his wording, Miss Darcy,” Charlotte intervened.

Mr. Bennet replied, “I'd assume that Mr. Collins's regrets are numerous, but God offers forgiveness. Does He not, Collins?” The mocking smile returned.

“Our Lord is benevolent,” Collins responded in some confusion.

“Then everything is well.You shall ask for forgiveness for your offense, and we'll all go forward.”

Mr. Nathan tapped on the door. “Excuse me, Miss Darcy. Mr. and Mrs. Collins's quarters are ready. Meg waits in the main foyer to escort them to their rooms.”

“Thank you, Mr. Nathan. Might you also make one of the empty bedchambers available for Mr. Winkler's use?”

“Certainly, Miss Darcy.”

“Pardon, Mr. Darcy.” Mr. Livingstone bowed. “Mr. Rennick mentioned that you planned to depart tomorrow. I thought you should know, Sir, a misty rain has returned. What little thaw we earned today has refrozen. The wet rain is freezing on the slick surfaces.”

Darcy had knowledge of this weather's turn, but he'd hoped to keep it from his wife. “Thank you, Livingstone. I suppose Mrs. Darcy and I will have to reevaluate our plans if the rain continues overnight.” He noted his wife's fallen countenance.

The gentleman bowed again. “I'm at your service, Mr. Darcy.”

Watching him walk away, Darcy returned his attention to Elizabeth. “Livingstone could be in error, my dear. No one can predict the weather.”

“I know it's insensible, Fitzwilliam. I'm warm, I want not for shelter or food, but all I desire for Christmas is to be at Pemberley with my family.”

Darcy wondered if his wife had discovered his surprise. “Your family is in Hertfordshire.”

“You're my family, Fitzwilliam. You and Georgiana and Mrs. Reynolds and the tenants. Pemberley is my home,” she insisted.

Darcy felt desire's familiar rush. “Yes, it is. It's as if, before you arrived, Pemberley was only a fine house. Now, it's a home. You have left your imprint on it, my dearest Elizabeth.”

Before she could respond, the sound of a carriage before the
inn brought everyone to his feet. Scrambling to the windows for a better view, Darcy made a point of shadowing Elizabeth with his body. Using a napkin to wipe away the pane's cold dampness, Darcy peered over Elizabeth's shoulder. “A gentleman,” he whispered close to her ear.

“And a lady.” Her face turned up to his in anticipation.

Darcy wouldn't tell her there was, literally, “no room at the inn.” He recognized his wife's need for female company. At Pemberley, she had spent her days interacting with Georgiana, Mrs. Reynolds, and others from the community. On this trip, as Mr. Parnell had had no wife, Darcy's business had left Elizabeth alone to entertain herself in a strange city. Leaving her behind as he met with the cantankerous Parnell, Darcy had actually wished Elizabeth's youngest sister Lydia Wickham had remained in Newcastle. He had done his wife a disservice by imposing his needs upon her.

As they and several others watched, the man braced the woman's step on the icy path, and within seconds the inn's door swung wide to a couple draped in soaking wet outerwear.

“Greetings,” Mr. Washington called as he approached. “Welcome to Prestwick's Portal.”

The young man removed his beaver and shook the dampness from his greatcoat. Quickly checking the woman to see to her comfort, he turned to the innkeeper. “We were certainly pleased to see the road markings leading to your inn, Sir.” The man helped the lady with her cloak. “I hope you have a room available for Mrs. Joseph and me.”

Mr. Washington's face fell. “I fear, Sir, that we're beyond capacity. Even my maid's room is being used for two of the gentlemen's gentlemen.” He gestured to those who curiously looked on.

Elizabeth broke away from the group and intervened. “Surely, something can be arranged, Mr. Washington. Obviously, Mrs. Joseph cannot return to the icy roads.” She referred to the young woman's physical condition—very much with child. “It's simply too dangerous.”

“Where would you have me house the Josephs?” Mr. Washington asked defensively. “Every room's full.” He glanced toward where the baron sat alone in the common room. “We have no other options.”

The group's gaze followed his to where Baron Bloomfield finished his meal. “What say you, Bloomfield?” Sir Jonathan asked. “Are you willing to relinquish your room to the couple?”

The baron looked up with disdain. “You address me, Padget?”

“Are you of the persuasion, Sir, to consider a room reshuffling to accommodate Mr. and Mrs. Joseph?”

Bloomfield's gaze fell on the waiting couple before a snarl curled his upper lip. “I think not. The prospects of sharing a room with a wheezing and gouty Bradley are impossible. It's bad enough to experience the man's aches and pains through this inn's thin walls. Encountering the man's complaints first hand will not occur.”

Darcy, recognizing Elizabeth's building ire, suggested, “Mrs. Darcy, why do you not see Mrs. Joseph closer to the hearth while we sort this out. I'm sure the lady could use some hot tea.”

Elizabeth resented being relegated to the role of hostess, but she heard her husband's resolve. He understood her objections to the baron's persistence and would deal with it on her behalf. “Certainly, Mr. Darcy. Come, Mrs. Joseph.You must be chilled quite through.”

“Thank you, Ma'am. I'm just that.” Mrs. Joseph accepted Elizabeth's arm as support.

Darcy cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, perhaps we can place our heads together and come up with a solution for the Josephs' dilemma.” He gestured to a small table, and the other travelers—minus Bloomfield and Bradley—joined him. “Mr. Washington, I'm certain Mr. Joseph could use a tankard of ale.”

 

Elizabeth ordered tea and soup for the lady and settled Mrs. Joseph before the fire. “I'm Elizabeth Darcy,” she said as she helped the woman lower her frame into the straight-backed chair. “My husband and I are from Derbyshire.”

“I'm pleased to have the acquaintance, Mrs. Darcy.” Mrs. Joseph extended her hands to the fire. “I'm Mary Joseph. My husband and I reside in Staffordshire.” She expelled a deep sigh as the warmth reached her. “It's been a treacherous few hours.”

“You have been traveling long?” Elizabeth asked.

“Three days. Matthew allowed extra time because of my condition.” Mrs. Joseph rested her hand comfortably on her expanded abdomen. “We return to Northumberland. Newcastle, actually. We received news recently that my husband's mother has taken seriously ill. Her days may be numbered so we set out to be at her bedside.”

Elizabeth waited for Nan to place the tea and soup on a nearby low table before responding. “Mr. Darcy had business in Newcastle. We had hoped to be at Pemberley by Christmas, but now we're unsure.”

Mrs. Joseph glanced about the room. “At least, there's a holiday touch about the space. The pine scent is quite comforting.”

Elizabeth nodded her agreement. “The men gathered the greenery today, and the inn's proprietress and I organized the arrangements.”

Mrs. Joseph sipped the warm tea. “I approve, Mrs. Darcy.”

Elizabeth smiled easily. “It was a female whim, but upon Mr. Darcy's insistence, the gentlemen—at least, a few of them—acquiesced.” Elizabeth poured herself some tea. “I hope you'll not find my next comment too personal,” she said tentatively. “But should you not be in the midst of your confinement, Mrs. Joseph?” Considering her own tenuous condition, Elizabeth added, “A woman cannot be too careful under the circumstances.”

Mrs. Joseph's chocolate brown eyes sparkled with the room's warmth. “I suppose I should've taken the weather into consideration; it's late December, after all. But as I'm a month from my delivery, I thought it best to support my husband. Matthew would never forgive himself if he wasn't at his mother's side when her time came, and I wouldn't selfishly demand that he choose between the woman who sacrificed everything for him and me.” Mrs.
Joseph nervously giggled. “What if I were not my husband's first choice, Mrs. Darcy? Can you imagine the wedge driven between us if that were so?”

“I have no doubt that Mr. Joseph would realize his duty rested with you, as would the elder Mrs. Joseph,” Elizabeth assured.

The woman shot a fleeting look toward her husband. “I wouldn't wish for Mr. Joseph to choose me out of duty, Mrs. Darcy. I'm vain enough to seek the man's love.”

Elizabeth observed, “Few of us of any station have the luxury of knowing true love in marriage, Mrs. Joseph. If you are so fortunate, I commend your joining.”

The young woman sipped her creamed soup. “Do you count yourself among those fortunate ones, Mrs. Darcy? I know it's truly none of my concern, but as we are, apparently, the only female guests here, I suspect we'll become intimate friends thanks to our circumstance.”

Elizabeth didn't turn her head, but she knew Darcy watched her. The thought of his constant attention brought a smile to her lips. “I know Mr. Darcy's affections,” she said softly.

“Good,” Mrs. Joseph pronounced. “Then you'll understand the necessity of my accompanying Mr. Joseph on this journey.” She sighed deeply. “Of course, I had an ulterior motive. My father and I parted with bitter words. I had hoped that if I delivered his first grandchild where he might meet the babe that he would forget what he saw as betrayal.”