by Jan H

Rating: PG-13

Summary: For reasons of economy, Elizabeth is forced to marry a man she thinks she does not love, but how long will it take for Darcy to convince her otherwise?

Chapter Thirteen

The small clock on the mantel chimed three times and I sighed again, wondering what I should do. And then my anger began anew. I was not the only one at fault here. Mr. Darcy could have prevented all of my fears and distrust if he had been more open, if he, in turn, had trusted me with the truth. I became so angry I began to pace, and not long after that I decided to confront him, even though it was but three o'clock in the morning.

Very quietly, I tapped at the door separating us, and when I heard no answer from within, I slowly turned the knob and peered inside. The room was in total darkness, not even the remains of a fire existed in the fireplace. I ventured into the room, feeling my way along to his bed, and when I bumped into the bedpost, I called out his name, but still there was no answer. I felt along the bed and could tell that it was made up, that he was not there. He had decided to sleep elsewhere after all. Was it because of his ill temper or might he still possibly consider me a temptation? I could not rest until I knew the answer.

I returned to my room and, lighting a candle, I walked out into the great hall. I knew the location of Georgiana's chamber and the colonel's, as well. On this floor that left only the two suites that had belonged to Mr. Darcy's parents and one William had used years before. I padded along the carpet until I reached the end of the hall where I knew the prior master suites to have been placed. I tapped lightly at the door that Mrs. Reynolds had told me belonged to Mr. Darcy's father and that William, himself, had used since becoming master. When I did not hear an answer I quietly turned the knob and lifted the candle, but to my dismay, saw that it was empty.

I then proceeded to look in Mrs. Darcy's former room and not finding my husband there either, I considered giving over and returning to my own bed, deciding that my husband had possibly removed himself to another wing. He must really want to get away from me, I thought. The only room remaining on that hall was the one William had used as a young man long before becoming master of Pemberley. It was situated at the farthest end of the hall and Mrs. Reynolds had told me it was rarely even used as a guest room, as it still contained numerous items William had saved from childhood and others he had brought home from his days at Cambridge. I knew that I would not rest if I did not check it, too, so I softly pushed open the great door and in the dim candlelight, I caught my breath when I saw him sleeping in his old bed.

Closing the door behind me, I walked inside and cleared my throat. It did little good, for he did not awaken. I held the candle closer and could see him lying there, sleeping soundly, his beautiful dark curls tousled, his face softened by slumber, with neither a sign of anger nor anguish about it. My heart melted at the sight. Upon impulse, I placed the candle on the small table beside the bed, blew it out, and crawled into his bed. He roused slightly and turned over. Now quite chilled from my walk in the hall, I cuddled up to his back and placed my arms around him, hugging his body close to me to feel its familiar warmth. If I had to leave tomorrow, I would at least have the memory of this night.  

It was not long before I fell into a sound sleep.

I awoke to the sensation of someone lightly running a finger along my cheek and then across my bottom lip. Slowly, I opened my eyes, shocked at the sight of Mr. Darcy's face so close to mine. Momentarily, I had forgotten how I had come to lie in his bed, but then the knowledge of my daring action flooded my consciousness.

"Good morning, Elizabeth," he said.

"Good morning," I managed to murmur.

"Do you know where you are?"

I nodded. He raised one eyebrow.

"It seems that you have been stricken by your affliction, forcing you into my bed once again."

Slowly, I shook my head.

He frowned and raised up on one elbow. "Then how . . ."

"I came willingly," I said softly.

His smile turned somewhat tenuous. "Indeed? But why?"

"I needed to be with you one last time."

"Last time? Of what are you speaking?"

A heavy sigh escaped before I could suppress it; then, summoning all of my courage, I spoke quickly, not even pausing to take a breath until I ran out of air. "I know, sir, that my previous mistrust of you has destroyed your faith in me and you told me some time ago that once your good opinion is lost, it is lost forever so, yes, I think it best that I leave Pemberley today, for I cannot see how we are to ever make a marriage out of this jumble."

"Well, we certainly cannot if you are to run off at the first sign of trouble," he said, lying back on the pillow.

"First sign?" I said, incredulous at his understatement. "Sir, we have been in trouble since the beginning."

"What do you mean?"

"Our marriage began as nothing more than a practical arrangement and distrust on both our parts has been rampant."

He sat up once again and looked directly at me. "I cannot speak for you, Elizabeth, but you speak in error as to my feelings. I have never distrusted you. Never."

"Then why have you not confided in me? Why have you avoided telling me the truth whenever I have asked certain questions?"

"I take offense at that!" he said, anger now evident in his voice. "I abhor deceit and have never lied to you."

"You have not lied, but you have refused to answer my questions."

"Only when I deemed it best."

"Well, it is not best," I said with as much force as possible. "Have you ever even slightly considered, sir, that you might not always know what is best for others?"

For some reason he seemed to relax then and spoke almost lazily, with that tantalizing smile of his playing about his mouth, "Hmm . . . you think that, do you? And so your solution is to leave. Well, just where do you propose to go?"

"To Longbourn. And . . . and you may rest assured I shall release you from your obligation."

"Release me? And may I ask how you presume to do that?"

"I do not know. Surely, your barrister can work out the legalities whereby you may be free to marry again."

He lay his head back upon the pillow and once again began to run his finger along my cheek and across my lips. "And if I do not wish to be free?"

"But you must. You were angry and hurt by my distrust. I saw it in your eyes, William, and I heard it from your lips."

"True. But anger and distrust can be overcome."

I was having the most difficult time thinking clearly when he persisted in caressing my lips and now I became aware that we lay very close together, in fact, we were lying in each other's arms.

"How?" I managed to whisper.

"Well, you have made a good beginning, Elizabeth by coming to me. But if you run off now, I cannot see how that will help sort things out at all. Much better to stay and face the music."

"I am afraid, sir, that I do not know the song."

"Oh, but I do, my dear. I know it well."

He then began to kiss me slowly, deliberately, caressing my lips with his in such a delightfully tender manner that I felt my whole body catch fire. I longed for him to deepen our kiss, and when he persisted in only teasing me with the barest of strokes, my arms tightened around him and pulled him down, down, until his lips parted and they became truly mine to possess.

Eventually, he pulled away, breathing heavily. "You are irresistible in the morning. Did you know that? Completely irresistible." He began to kiss me again, our passion growing with each caress. When I thought I would not . . . could not deny him any part of myself, he released me and sat up in the bed, rubbed his hand against his mouth, and shook his head.

"This will not do, Elizabeth. It will not do."

I did not know what to think or say. "Shall I . . . leave, sir?"

He turned and looked at me over his shoulder, cutting his eyes at me in the most intoxicating manner, the early morning sleepiness still softening his expression, his nightshirt standing open at the neck, revealing the beginnings of his beautiful chest. "No, you shall not leave. Not now, not ever. You shall stay at Pemberley and you shall stay in my bed until we have talked this out."

"That might take some time, sir."

"I have nothing more important in my life, Elizabeth. Do you?"

I shook my head, so thrilled that he did not want to banish me that I could hardly think straight. We then began to discuss our differences, a list of which would exhaust the reader, but which we made a valiant attempt to assail. He bade me tell him every reason why I had distrusted him and dared to believe the ugly tale about Fiona. For his part, I have to admit that he listened well and did not interrupt me even when it was evident by the fire in his eyes, he would like to have throttled me. When I had finished, I sat quietly, waiting for the onslaught of his temper.

Instead, he asked a simple question. "And do you now admit that you were in the wrong?"

"Utterly and completely," I said. "And will you admit that you should have been more open and forthcoming in answer to my questions?"

"I will. And so this part of our misunderstanding is now behind us, am I correct? You do believe that there is nothing between your maid and myself."

"Yes," I replied.

"Then we must seal it with a kiss and never speak of it again. Agreed?"

I am sure my eyes widened at his suggestion, but I was quick to nod in agreement. I sat up as he took my hands and pulled me to him. His lips closed upon mine and I can only say that he kissed me quite thoroughly, so much so that when he released me, I felt both the room and bed begin to spin. He steadied me with his hands and then told me to scoot up in the bed and lean against the headboard, while he reclined against the foot of the bed.

"For we must now move on to the next item on your agenda," he said firmly. I wondered how he could kiss me with such abandon and then move right on to thinking sensibly when my head was in such a muddle, but I strove mightily to think clearly and I determined that the next words I spoke would be sensible.

"Sir, I must say this, for it is another good example of how you keep things from me, although, on the other hand, I must admit it is the most generous thing you could ever do, so I suppose I am not actually complaining and yet I am in a way because you should have told me so that I would have known and afforded you the appreciation that you deserve most . . ."

"Elizabeth, you are confusing me."

"Well, I am somewhat confused, myself. I shall begin anew by thanking you for your kindness to my poor sister, Lydia. Ever since I have known it, I have been most anxious to acknowledge to you how gratefully I feel it. Were it known to the rest of my family, I should not have merely my own gratitude to express."

I looked up to see how he met my declaration and noted the look of surprise on his face and then a forbidding frown about his eyes. "I am sorry, exceedingly sorry that you have ever been informed of what may, in a mistaken light, have given you uneasiness. I did not think Mrs. Gardiner was so little to be trusted."

"You must not blame my aunt, for it was Richard . . . Colonel Fitzwilliam who revealed it to me and, of course, I could not rest until I knew the particulars. Let me thank you again, in the name of my family, for that generous compassion which induced you to take so much trouble and bear so many mortifications for the sake of discovering them."

"If you will thank me," he replied, "let it be for yourself alone. Your family owes me nothing. Much as I respect them, I thought only of you."

Not trusting myself to look directly at him, I stared at the rumpled sheets and counterpane, thrilled at his words. He had done it all for me and me, alone.

"But Fitzwilliam!" he said, an angry disbelief evident in his voice. "I cannot believe that he told you."

"Had you sworn him to secrecy in the matter?"

"I had not. I did not think it necessary, for at the time of its occurrence I did not envision him ever crossing your path again. And here, I have thrown you together daily these past weeks. What else has my cousin revealed about me?"

"I can think of nothing, other than sharing bits of your correspondence about that shabby business in London." When he made no further comment, I took a deep breath and made a bold suggestion. "Now that mystery is out in the open, shall we seal it with a kiss as well?"

He smiled, his eyes darkening. "Agreed."

I scrambled into his arms before he could change his mind and this time I kissed him with an utter lack of restraint until I could feel the muscles in his arms begin to quiver. When I drew back slightly, his voice came out quite roughly, as did his breathing. "And . . . the next item . . . might be?"

I drew back, but I did not retreat to my former place at the head of the bed. Slowly, we removed our hands from each other's arms and I began to play with the pleat in my gown, rubbing it back and forth between my fingers to keep my hands occupied and thus refrain from touching him.

"Have you kept your promise to me about Mr. Bingley and Jane? From my sister's correspondence, it does not appear that you have."

He frowned, grabbed a pillow and punched it with such force that I expected to see feathers flying, before placing it at his back. "I have not."

"And why not, may I ask? It was agreed upon before our marriage."

"That is correct, but at present I have serious doubts as to the wisdom of such action."

I straightened up, pulling my shoulders back, for I could feel that familiar ire rising within me. In doing so, my gown slipped off one shoulder, but I ignored it. Why should he insist on being stubborn about this? What possible reason could he have? I struggled to keep my voice even. "Then you must tell me why. You certainly owe me that much, Mr. Darcy."

He looked directly at me. "We are back to 'Mr. Darcy,' are we? You sit in my bed clad only in your gown, which is falling down in the most fetching manner, and yet address me as Mr. Darcy." I immediately replaced the errant part of my gown, but he reached over and aided it in exposing my bare shoulder once more. "I like it better like that," he said, his voice a low growl.

"Sir, you are avoiding the subject," I said.

He smiled, which almost made me forget the subject, myself, before he continued. "Very well. I have not spoken to Bingley because I fail to see in him what you do. You profess that he is in love with Miss Bennet and that her feelings are the same. I will not argue with you as to her state of mind. When in her presence, I saw no apparent proclivity in her manner toward Bingley, but I shall accept the fact that you possess a thorough knowledge of your sister's wishes and I bow to your thinking in that regard. However, I now wonder if Bingley is truly in love with Miss Bennet."

"How can you doubt it?" I demanded. "At Hertfordshire, he showed every inclination of a man besotted. Why, the entire county was talking of it. We all expected an announcement of their betrothal by last Christmas until you and his sisters persuaded him otherwise and whisked him off to town."

"And just exactly how did you come by that intelligence? Who told you that Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst and I spoke of such things with him? I have wondered that ever since you accused me thus in the vicar's parsonage last April."

"Richard told me that very afternoon before you . . . visited me."

"Fitzwilliam? What is he now, an old woman? I never knew him to have such a loose tongue! Or do you possess a particular talent in extracting information from him?"

I glared at him and then saw the smile playing about his mouth. "Oh, no, William! You will not distract me by changing the subject and ridiculing your cousin, no matter how clever you are. I want an answer. How can you not believe that Mr. Bingley was unduly influenced by you and that your interference has kept him from declaring himself to Jane?"

"That is precisely why I have reservations."

"I do not understand."

"If Bingley truly loved your sister enough to marry her, neither his sisters nor I could have pressed him into rethinking his decision."

"But he thinks very highly of you, sir. It is evident that he looks to you for guidance and you have caused him to doubt her preference for him."

"Elizabeth, if I loved a woman as you think Bingley loves Miss Bennet, nothing - and I do mean nothing - could keep me from her. Neither her impertinent remarks, nor her teasing manner nor accusations of defects in my character, not even her reluctance to dance with me would deter me." I suddenly realized that we were no longer speaking of Mr. Bingley and Jane. He took my hands in his, then lifted my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Not even when I proposed and she turned me down, declaring that I acted in an ungentleman-like manner and that I was the last man she would ever marry . . . not even that would keep me from pursuing her, from doing everything in my power to make her mine."

"Pray," I pleaded, attempting to turn my face from his, "do not remind me of what I said then, of how terribly I abused you."

"What did you say of me that I did not deserve? For, though your accusations were ill-founded, formed on mistaken premises, my behaviour to you at the time merited the severest reproof. It was unpardonable. My conduct, my manners, my expressions during the whole of it is now, and has been many months, inexpressibly painful to me, though it was some time, I confess, before I was reasonable enough to allow their justice."

"I had not the smallest idea of their being ever felt in such a way."

"I can well believe it. I have been a selfish being all my life. As a child, I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit. Such I was, from eight to eight and twenty; and such I remain except for brief episodes. Episodes that will only reoccur and change me into a more worthwhile person with your influence, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth!"

Oh, I felt all the anger I had ever directed toward him dissolving at the words coming from his mouth and the look in his eyes. If I had taken the time to glance down, I would not have been at all surprised to find myself reduced to nothing less than a pool of mush.

"We both have many questions one for the other," he said. "That we have acknowledged, but truly, there is only one that matters. At Hunsford cottage last Easter, I told you that I greatly admired and loved you. I still do."

My heart stood still. It simply refused to beat!

"I tried to conquer my desire for you - I tried most desperately - but it was a hopeless case," he said. "At Longbourn in October, you asked me why I wanted to marry you and I refused to tell you, but I tell you now. The sole reason, the only reason is that I love you more than life itself. I loved you more on the day of my second proposal than I did at Kent. I love you more today than I did yesterday, and I know without a doubt that I shall love you even more tomorrow. I will love you, Elizabeth, until I no longer draw breath, and that is God's truth."

I reached up and took his face in my hands, slowly pulling his mouth toward mine, while I felt his hands go around my waist, gathering me into his arms. Our lips touched and that exquisite taste of heaven washed over me once again, drawing me in with its enticing flavour, setting every nerve within me on fire. He deepened his kiss and I welcomed it, surrendering to the joy of being loved. Sometime later, he released my mouth and simply held me in his arms, taking his hand and cradling my head against his strong shoulder, binding me to him in the closest of embraces.

"You must answer this question, though," he said.

"Oh, William, no more questions for now. I am spent."

He cleared his throat. "I believe that I am the one who has answered the most questions. You have escaped with naught but one."

"All right," I said, "but you are merciless."

He raised me so that he could look into my eyes. "May I dare to hope that you are beginning to love me . . . perhaps just a little?"

I could not help myself. I rolled my eyes. "A little? How can you doubt it? Have I not behaved like a shameless hussy each time you have kissed me, even crawling into your bed this very night?"

He smiled. "Such description is false, Elizabeth. I would say you have responded as a tender-hearted woman who takes pity on a drowning man."

"Ah, William, you mistake my motives. I have never pitied you, not even once."

"Then will you say the words?"

I gazed into his eyes, willing myself not to weep. "I love you, William, from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health. I will love, cherish . . . and try to obey . . . till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance, and thereto I give thee my troth."

My vision blurred as tears filled my eyes. Laying my head against his chest, I slipped my arms around his waist. His heart beat rapidly in my ear and his breathing grew laboured. His voice was deep and ragged when he spoke. "This time I believe you."

"This time I spoke the truth." I raised my face to his and sought his lips. What began as a gentle caress soon deepened into a long, intoxicating kiss that threatened to blaze into a conflagration, as he stroked my back, holding me closer and closer. It took a huge clap of thunder to bring us to our senses. We both drew apart, looking at the windows as if to ask What? Surely, God in heaven must have laughed just then to see such surprise on the faces of two of his silliest creatures.

"More rain," William said, pulling me back against his chest. "Did not you once say that you loved to be in bed when it rains?"

"I believe I said I love to sleep when it is raining."

"Hmm, well, I do not anticipate your sleeping any time soon."

I trembled at the thought of what he was suggesting, but instead of proceeding to kiss me, he said, "Tell me, when did you first love me?"

I laughed. "Oh, no, William, not more questions."

"Why not? Tell me the answer. When did you first love me?"

"I hardly know. It has been coming on so gradually, that I hardly know when it began. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun."

"I must know this, Elizabeth, and you must give me a straight answer. Did you fall in love with me after Fitzwilliam told you of my actions toward Wickham and your sister?"

I could hear the emotion in his voice and I knew that I must not tease him any more. I shook my head. "No. I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words which laid the foundation, but I was already in love with you long before I heard his revelation."

He pulled me to him once again and held me tightly, so tightly I could hear our hearts beating as one. "You know not how much that means to me," he said, his voice almost hoarse.

"But why?" I said. "What is so important about when I began loving you?"

"I would not have you love me out of gratitude."

So that was why he had not told me, why he had sworn the Gardiners to secrecy. He would not use that example of his character to cause me to marry him. He would rather force me into an arranged marriage, endure my anger and hostility for months on end, possibly forever, without any certainty that I would ever become an agreeable wife. Oh William, I thought, do you not ever do things the easy way?

And then I discovered that at least one time he did just that, for it was exceedingly easy for him to teach me how a husband and wife please each other. I decided that he was correct in his first statement after all: I loved being in bed when it rained . . . as long as he was there, too.

By the time we awoke the second time, the storm had passed and the sun was now shining way up in the heavens. I sat up, wondering how late it was, but the only clock in the room had not been set for some time, as no one had occupied the room for several months. William stirred and opening his eyes, he reached for me and pulled me back into his arms.

"Where are you going, my pretty wife?" he said, caressing my cheek with the back of his hand.

"Wherever you wish, my good sir," I answered, smiling and stroking the curls back off his forehead.

"Hmm, I can think of some interesting places."

"Mr. Darcy!" I said, pretending to be shocked.

"No, no, my dearest, you can no longer play the innocent with me, for I know the truth about you." He began to nuzzle my neck and I could not keep from giggling.

Just then we heard a noise out in the great hall. "What was that?" I said.

He looked up briefly and shrugged. "Probably one of the servants lighting the candles."

"William, there is no need for candles. Look, the sun is far above the house. It must be quite late in the morning." He sat up then and did, indeed, look around and acknowledged that I was probably correct.

"It appears to be way past noon," he said.

"Everyone must have risen hours ago. Should not we do the same?"

He sighed as he smiled at me and then reached down and kissed me. "Yes, but it does seem a shame to leave the room where I have known the greatest happiness of my life."

My heart skipped a beat to hear those words, to know that I was the cause of this great joy that shone forth from his eyes. "Oh, William, I feel the same."

"Do you, my darling? Have I made you happy? Truly happy?"

"How can you doubt it?" I kissed him in return and we were soon swept away by a new wave of passion when an even louder noise from outside the door interrupted us.

"What in blazes . . .?" he said, raising his head. "Elizabeth, I must see to this, as much as I hate to leave you."

"Wait! If you open the door, whoever is there will see that I am here in your room."

He smiled. "Well, it is not as though you should not be, my dear. You are my wife." He rose from the bed and grabbed his robe.

"Pray, William," I cried, "let me put on my robe, first."

"Very well." He handed me the garment and I slipped it on.

"William, does it show?"

"Does what show?"

"You know . . . what we were . . . well, you know."

He began to struggle in earnest not to laugh openly. "Only if I cannot cease grinning." He reached over and kissed the tip of my nose. "Do not worry, sweetest wife, it is not written on your forehead. Our secret is concealed."

Still, I quickly climbed out of the bed, wrapped my robe securely about me, and tried to smooth my wayward curls before he opened the door. Attempting the most serene and dignified expression that I could muster, I stood beside the bed. William opened the door to find not only his valet in the hall, Fiona and Sarah along with Mrs. Reynolds, but Colonel Fitzwilliam and Georgiana, as well. They were all in earnest conversation, the servants out of breath, seemingly having hurried down the hall.

"Wills!" Georgiana cried when he opened the door. She immediately ran to him and embraced him. "We thought something had happened to you. And where is Elizabeth? She is not in her room and here it is early afternoon. Richard has combed the grounds and he could not find her or you. I am afraid something has hap . . . " And then she saw me. "Oh, there you are! Why, Wills, did you and Elizabeth sleep in your old chamber last night?"

"Georgiana," Colonel Fitzwilliam said, quickly moving to her side and taking her arm. "Come with me."

"But why?" she cried. "Wills, were you showing Elizabeth some of your things from Cambridge?"

"Georgiana," Richard said again.

"Richard, what is it?"

"Come along," he said forcefully, "now!"

"But why?"

"Never you mind." He raised his eyebrows at William and I could see the nerve in his cheek quivering as he struggled not to laugh. Taking Georgiana by the arm, he prodded her down the hall to the stairs and then below. The servants had all immediately scattered, averting their faces as they were well trained to do. William turned to me and I could see his efforts to repress his feelings reflected in his face.

I sighed and walked past him through the door that he held open.

"So much for concealment," I said under my breath.

We both stole a glance at each other from the corner of our eyes, and although our shoulders shook as we walked down that long hall to our separate chambers, I am proud to say that we did maintain some manner of dignity and successfully refrained from bursting out with laughter until we were safely behind closed doors.


Chapter Fourteen

That evening at dinner, Colonel Fitzwilliam announced that he would be leaving the next morning to return to his regiment in town. His words were met with disappointment and regret from all of us, especially Georgiana. She pleaded with him to stay until her brother reminded her that their cousin did have responsibilities other than entertaining her.

She sighed and pouted somewhat. "I have grown accustomed to your being here all the time, Richard. Shall you not resign your commission and buy a house in Derbyshire?"

"A very inviting suggestion, Sprout," he replied, "but hardly practical."

"You will return and spend Christmas with us, will you not?" I asked.

"Thank you, Elizabeth, I should love to, but seeing as how the holiday is but a few weeks from now, I think not. My duties will require my continued presence, I am sure, since I have taken such an extended leave."

"But Richard, no one works at Christmas. Surely, you can slip away."

"Georgiana," William said, "let him be. Fitz knows what he can and cannot do."

She said nothing more for a while, but I could see that her spirits had turned melancholy. William surprised me with his next statement, although it was anything but unwelcome.

"I suggest that we invite Mrs. Bennet and Elizabeth's sisters to come from Longbourn and join us for Christmas, as well as the Gardiners."

My face lit up at the very idea of seeing my family once again. "Oh, William, that is generous of you."

"I shall write to them this very evening," he said. "And what say you to extending the invitation to Mr. Bingley, as well?"

I could have kissed him then and there if we had been alone! At last, he would make good on his promise to correct things between Jane and Mr. Bingley. I nodded vigorously and our eyes locked in loving agreement.

"I suppose that means you will invite his sisters, as well," Georgiana said somewhat half-heartedly.

William frowned and I struggled not to sigh, but I rose to the occasion and summoned every gracious bone in my body. "Of course we should ask them, should we not?"

William nodded before saying somewhat grimly, "If you think best, my dear."

"Who shall you spend Christmas Eve with, Richard?" Georgiana asked.

"Most probably with my parents unless they have invited Lady Catherine to visit them. If she is there, then I should prefer the company of my junior officers on post. Surely we lonely fellows can produce more holiday cheer among ourselves than I would experience at Eden Park."

We all smiled at this and nodded in agreement, although Georgiana's smile did not last long. "I cannot bear the thought of you being alone at such a festive time of year," she said.

"Then you must provide me with a happy memory to recall when I am far away, Georgie," he replied. "How about favouring me with some yuletide selections on the pianoforte after dinner?"

She readily agreed and we spent the later portion of the evening listening to her play. Mr. Darcy even prevailed upon me to join her in a duet and we played and sang several old tunes. At the end of our pleasant interlude, William walked his sister to the stairs after she bid us good-night, leaving Colonel Fitzwilliam and I alone in the music room. I took advantage of our privacy to speak to him.

"Richard, will you call again at Pemberley before leaving for your post abroad?" I asked.

The look on his face was pensive. "I am not sure exactly when I shall leave, but I hope to."

"Perhaps you might come for Georgiana's birthday in January," I suggested. "I suppose you have told her of your plans to leave England, have you not?"

"No, I shall remain silent in that regard as long as possible, for I cannot bear to see her unhappy, although I am certain she will forget all about me before long. She is so young and has much to look forward to."

"She does," I agreed, "but I cannot believe she will forget you so easily." I watched as he walked to the mantel and stared at the flames. "Forgive my intrusion, but I cannot help but feel it is because of Georgiana that you are making plans to depart these shores. Am I wrong?"

He turned and looked directly at me and I was surprised at the pain I saw reflected in his eyes. "I wish that you were, Elizabeth," he said.

"But why? Colonel, I know I should not ask this, but is it possible that you are in love with Georgiana?"

He looked away then, but not before I saw the truth wash over his countenance. "If I am, it is my cross to bear and mine, alone."

"Can you not tell her?"

He shook his head. "She is still a child and I am like an older brother to her, a comfortable, old friend she has loved since childhood. No, I cannot inflict such a burden upon her. 'Tis better to leave things as they are and for me to remove myself from her life."

"I do not agree," I said forcefully.

"On what do you not agree?" Mr. Darcy said, entering the room just then.

"On whether Mrs. Hurst is more tiresome than Miss Bingley," Richard said smoothly, but with a knowing look in my direction. I marveled at how well he concealed his strong emotions, as it was evident he did not wish to share our conversation with his cousin.

Mr. Darcy laughed and said he thought it was probably a draw. "Sometimes I wonder if Charles Bingley is truly their brother. Perhaps he is a foundling, for surely he is the complete opposite in manner and disposition."

"Siblings are not always alike," I said. "Some of my sisters are nothing akin to each other except in name."

"Quite right, my dear," William said, sitting in the chair closest to me. "And you are completely different from all of them, the very best of the lot I declare, would you not agree, Fitzwilliam?"

"Absolutely," Richard said with a smile. "You have won the prize, Darce. There is no doubt about it. And now I shall retire and leave the two of you, as I feel certain my absence will not be missed."

I blushed, remembering how we had exposed ourselves more than once in front of the colonel since my husband had returned to Pemberley. William did nothing more than raise an eyebrow at him, however, as we bid him good-night.

After he had left the room, William said, "Come here, my love."

I rose and took a step toward him and then laughed when he pulled me down onto his lap and began to kiss my neck.

"William! What if the servants come in?"

"They will leave immediately. Pemberley's servants are very discreet."

He began to work his way around the neckline of my dress, leaving a trail of kisses that interfered greatly with my ability to breathe. When I could stand his teasing no longer, I took his face in my hands and sought his mouth, kissing him until he, too, had difficulty drawing breath.

"Do you know how happy you have made me tonight?" I asked, drawing away at last.

"Give me time and I can make you happier," he said, reaching for me to capture my lips once again.

I laughed softly, but held myself away. "No doubt," I said, "but I am referring to what you said at the table. Thank you for asking both Jane and Mr. Bingley to Pemberley for Christmas. I can only assume that you intend to make things right between them."

He sighed deeply. "I shall do what I can, Elizabeth, even though I still have reservations that Bingley is worthy of your sister."

"She loves him, William. Is it not up to her to decide whether he is worthy?"

"I suppose, although I would much rather see her with someone who was more sure of himself, more settled and mature. How about if we set her up with Fitzwilliam? Now, there is a man who knows what he wants and if he spent much time with Miss Bennet, is it not possible they might fall in love?"

I rose from his lap then and turned away, not wanting to reveal my real thoughts.

"Where are you going?" he demanded.

"Not far," I said, looking back at him over my shoulder and smiling. "Just far enough to be able to think well enough to make a sensible statement. And as to Colonel Fitzwilliam, has he not made it clear that he must marry a woman of fortune? Surely, Jane's lack of such would hamper any such connection."

"Fitz is not poor by any means. He would provide for Miss Jane very well and with the dowry I have set up for her, they could live quite comfortably."

"I have never seen any inclination for each other on the part of either of them."

"They have been in the same company but a short while. Perhaps I can prevail upon Fitz to change his plans and join us during the holiday after all."

I walked back to him and knelt at his feet, taking his hands in mine. "William, I do not think we should play matchmaker in all of this."

"Why not? You are perfectly willing for me to prod Bingley towards your sister."

"She loves him," I said softly, laying my head upon his knee. "Believe me, I know my sister's heart and she does not love Colonel Fitzwilliam. Jane will never care for anyone as she does Mr. Bingley."

"Very well, my dear," he said, as he began to stroke my curls. "It shall be as you wish. I cannot deny you anything."

I raised my head and smiled as he leaned down to kiss me. "Then shall we go above stairs?" I whispered.

"Gladly!"

We rose and exited the room, my hand tucked inside his arm. As we climbed the great staircase, I asked, "Whose bed shall we sleep in tonight, William?"

"Mine," he announced without the slightest hesitation.

"And why not mine?" I said, unable to keep from teasing him.

"Because I have dreamed of having you in my bed far too many nights. You have to admit that I have been much more than patient and now I demand my rights."

"Perhaps I have dreamed the same dream, only in my bed," I persisted.

"Then to be fair, we shall have to look at it in this way. Who has dreamt the longest? There is no question about it. I win hands down, for I have loved you much, much longer than you have loved me."

I could do nothing more than smile then and lean my head against his shoulder as we continued on our way, savouring the pleasure I anticipated awaiting me. How delightful to know that I should never have to sleep alone again. * * *

A light snow was falling when Colonel Fitzwilliam left the next morning. It covered the grounds of Pemberley like fairy dust, glistening each time the sun peeked through the clouds and lit up the landscape. I hoped it might lighten Georgiana's mood, but it was not to be. She moped around for most of the day and, in truth, her countenance did not change much for the next 10 days until my sisters and mother arrived from Longbourn and the Gardiners a day later. They had, of course, accepted the invitation with alacrity. Jane had written the response and one line in her letter had piqued my curiosity, as well as William's.

'I have something of great importance to tell you, Lizzy, but I shall wait until we are face to face before doing so.'

I could not imagine what it was and my only fear was that she might have accepted the proposal of some kind gentleman from the county, as she had threatened to do when I was last at Longbourn. Neither William nor I had written her to expect Mr. Bingley's attendance at Pemberley, as we had not yet heard from him. William said that he was a poor correspondent and that we would probably hear from his sisters before he wrote and sure enough, Mr. Bingley was quite late in sending his acceptance.

Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst wrote that neither of them would be able to take advantage of our generous hospitality. It seemed that Mr. Hurst's brother had already invited them to spend Christmas at his house in Surrey and they were invited to a Christmas ball to be held at the home of Lady Jersey's nephew, who resided in the same neighbourhood. You might imagine what severe disappointment that caused our household, but we bore it as best we could.

I had much to do to make sure Pemberley was prepared for this onslaught of visitors and thus did not spend that much time alone with my sister-in-law. William talked her into accompanying him into the woods with a couple of the servants to select the Yule log and holly bough, but even that did little to lift her spirits. He complained to me about her lack of holiday cheer and asked if I had any idea why her mood was so low. I told him the truth, that Georgiana had not confided any such reason to me, but in my heart I felt guilty in keeping silent as to what I thought lay at the base of it all. Whether she knew it or not, I thought Georgiana was as much in love with Colonel Fitzwilliam as he was with her. And yet, I feared that William would not want to hear that.

So it was a great relief to have Mamma, Jane, Mary and Kitty arrive and meet Georgiana. They provided a noisy, welcome diversion and I was glad to see my family claim much of my young sister-in-law's attention. Mary and Georgiana shared a delight in music and when at the instrument, they were quite compatible. Kitty's natural exuberance could not help but aid Georgiana to emerge from her natural reticence and I hoped my sister-in-law's decorum might, in turn, influence my sister. Of course, Mamma was in awe of Pemberley - in truth, all of my sisters were impressed - but she was quite speechless for the first day of her visit, as I took her on an extensive tour of the house. We took advantage of the muted respite and found ourselves longing for it once her vocal abilities returned, for she oohed and aahed throughout the entire establishment, blessing Mr. Darcy again and again for marrying me and then playing the coquette with him in the evenings after tasting a glass of wine. He bore it all very well and I tried my best to console him when we were alone in his chamber at the end of each day, a tiresome duty but one that I felt compelled to endure.

We were truly surprised by one of Mamma's statements which she bestowed upon us as soon as her ability to speak returned.

"Lizzy!" she said, "Has Jane told you the news?"

"What news is that, Mamma?" I asked.

"Mr. Bingley has returned to Netherfield!"

I looked at Jane in amazement and observed her blush and attempt to conceal her smile. "No, she did not tell me," I answered and then stole a glance at Mr. Darcy who appeared as amazed as I was.

"Well, then let me tell you all about it. He came with a company of gentlemen some two weeks ago. I had it from Mrs. Long and then Mrs. Philips confirmed that it was a shooting party and none of the ladies accompanied them. But, oh, Lizzy, we were all in such a state, for Mr. Bingley was three days in the neighbourhood and still he did not call! Well, I said it was all your father's fault. If he had not gone and died, he would be there where he belonged and could have called on Mr. Bingley. Yes, yes, it was all his fault." She paced back and forth in the drawing room waving her kerchief around to punctuate her speech.

"Mamma!" Jane remonstrated, for all the good it accomplished. I just shook my head and with a meaningful look at my sister, I attempted to return my mother to the point of her conversation

"And so Mr. Bingley did not call upon any of you?"

"Oh, but he did, Lizzy," she said. "On the fourth day of his sojourn, Kitty looked out the window and what do you think she saw? None other than Mr. Bingley riding up the path to Longbourn on his dappled mare! Oh, he was mighty pleased to see Jane again. It was all as plain as day. No one could mistake his preference for her."

"Mamma!" Jane said again with an imploring look in her eyes.

I watched Mr. Darcy retreat to the window, that shell of disapprobation descending upon his countenance. Why could my mother not learn to curb her tongue?

The arrival of the Gardiners that afternoon provided not only welcome guests, but distractions for both Mamma and Mr. Darcy. He spent no little time once again showing my uncle Pemberley's grounds and if it had not been snowing, I think they would have fished the lake dry just to be outdoors and away from a house filled with women. It was the third day of my family's visit before Jane and I actually found some time alone. That afternoon, Georgiana and Mary were practicing a duet, Mamma was listing Mr. Darcy's assets to Mrs. Gardiner once again and planning Jane's upcoming nuptials even though she had not yet received a proposal, and Kitty entertained the younger Gardiners out in the snowy garden. I tucked Jane's hand in my arm and whisked her off to a parlor in the east wing. From the window we could see my husband and uncle walking the path that led to the pond.

"Oh, Lizzy, are you truly as happy as you appear?" Jane asked.

My face was wreathed in smiles. "Truly," I replied. "Jane, it is just as you hoped. I have come to love Mr. Darcy and, wondrous thought, he loves me in return."

"Of course he does! I knew that he did the moment he asked for your hand at Longbourn."

"I confess that I did not," I said, shaking my head. "And I am afraid that I behaved badly and made him miserable for quite some time."

"You, Lizzy? I cannot believe that!"

"Come, Jane, you know what a reluctant bride I was. Indeed, I was terrible to him for no little time. It is a wonder he did not return to Longbourn and dump me on Mamma's doorstep with a list of complaints hung around my neck!"

"Lizzy!"

I could not help smiling again. "But he is too good, Jane, absolutely too good a man to do such a thing. He has borne my anger and suspicion and bad temper and won me over. He is truly the best of men."

"Oh, Lizzy, I am so happy for you," she said, but I could not mistake the wistful sound of her voice.

"And you?" I asked. "Your last letter has made me alive with curiosity! What is this news you have to tell? Does it have to do with Mr. Bingley?"

Jane blushed and looked down at her hands in her lap. "He has not made a declaration to me, Lizzy, if that is what you mean. But I am happier than I have been in a long time."

"Because?"

"Because even though we were separated close to a year, when he did call upon us, it was like he had never gone away. I still believe I have never met a more amiable man in my entire life."

"And is he yet at Netherfield?"

"No, he returned to London last week, but he promised to come back to Hertfordshire with the new year."

"Oh, Jane, I cannot wait any longer," I cried. "I must tell you this!"

"What is it?"

"Mr. Darcy has invited Mr. Bingley to spend Christmas with us. He is coming to Pemberley tomorrow!"

The colour drained from Jane's face and her eyes grew larger and even bluer than usual. "He is coming here?" she repeated.

"Yes," I said, taking her hands in mine. "You shall spend the next fortnight in each other's company every day."

"Oh, Lizzy, do you think that best? What about Mamma?"

I sighed and closed my eyes for a moment. "Jane, if Mr. Bingley loves you, he will have to accept your family. Mr. Darcy has learned that, and if he, of all men, can tolerate the Bennets, surely Mr. Bingley can."

We both laughed, and I was grateful I could laugh, for three months ago I would never have believed such a deed possible.

Mr. Bingley did arrive the next day along with a new snowstorm. He walked into the great hall, his hat and coat dusted white within the short distance from his carriage to the door. A bitter wind blew in with him, causing the candles to flare up. Mr. Darcy and I had just left the breakfast room and were crossing the hall when the door opened upon him. We were excited and exceedingly pleased to see him and ushered him into the salon where my family had gathered after eating. I thought Mamma would suffer apoplexy upon first sight of Mr. Bingley; her mouth hung agape a full five minutes. Neither Jane nor I had warned her that he was coming for fear that it would only encourage her inappropriate remarks in the presence of Mr. Darcy.

I paid particular attention to the reaction of both Jane and Mr. Bingley upon seeing each other and was most gratified to see their eyes light up and witness the difficulty both of them had in tearing their gaze from each other.

Unfortunately, Mamma recovered her voice all too soon. "Mr. Bingley!" she cried. "You sly thing! Here you planned to follow Jane all the way to Derbyshire and never a word of it when last we visited."

"Mamma!" Jane and I both said in unison.

"How nice to see you again, Mr. Bingley," Mrs. Gardiner interjected smoothly, drawing him into the room. Her husband quickly stepped in, as well, and engaged him in a discussion of the road conditions. From then on, it was as though an unspoken agreement arose between my aunt and uncle, Mr. Darcy, and Jane and I to spare Mr. Bingley from further conversation with my mother, a task most arduous, indeed.

With the inclement weather upon us, the men were forced to spend most of the coming days indoors, whereupon they made frequent use of Mr. Darcy's library and billiards room. Georgiana and I prevailed upon our female guests to assist us in trimming the Yule log with greenery in anticipation of its being lit on Christmas Eve, as well as stringing apples, twigs, and ribbons to decorate the holly bough so that it would be ready to hang from the ceiling in the main drawing room. We spent no little time in the stillroom selecting holly, ivy, bay and rosemary with which to adorn the house, and soon the fragrant herbal aromas permeated Pemberley in a most pleasing manner.

Mamma insisted upon adding mistletoe to the holly bough even though it had been long considered a "kissing-bough" without that accessory. "It will not hurt to provide added encouragement to the holiday tradition," she said, winking and raising her eyebrows in Jane's direction several times. I simply closed my eyes and shook my head, embarrassed for Jane's mortification, and yet helpless to control my mother. We would be fortunate if we got through the holidays without Mamma proposing to Mr. Bingley upon Jane's behalf!

Each evening in the privacy of our bedchambers, I asked my husband if he had yet spoken to Mr. Bingley and each evening he replied in the negative. After three days of this, his recalcitrant manner had begun to grate on my nerves and my nightly nagging did little to endear me to him.

"Elizabeth," he said quite forcefully on the third night, "do not ask me about this again. I shall speak to Bingley when the time is right."

"But when shall that be? You have put this off for months, William, and now you have been in daily contact with him and still you remain silent." I had just climbed into his bed and he was blowing out the candles before joining me.

"I promised you that I would do it. Will you now trust me to keep my word?" The anger in his voice was unmistakable, his tone sharp; I knew that I needed to back down, that I had pushed far enough. I said nothing, but the look I gave him before he extinguished the final light was full of fire. I lay down and turned on my side away from him, biting my tongue when he lay beside me. I resolved to remain silent. If he forbade me to speak on that subject again, I would not speak at all. Righteous anger caused me to swell up like a toad, and when I think back upon it now, I am grateful we lay in darkness for I am certain I was not a pretty sight.

We remained in silence for some time. I was far too angry to go to sleep and I sensed that he was having similar difficulty. Pulling the cover over my shoulders, I tossed around several times, attempting to find a comfortable position, and made certain my disgruntled sighs were quite audible. He did not move, but his breathing revealed that he was awake. After none of my obviously angry actions provoked the desired apology from him, I scooted as close to the edge of the bed as possible. I lay there miserable for some time; finally I sat up, turned back the cover and threw my legs over the side.

"Elizabeth? What are you doing?" he said, immediately sitting up.

"Returning to my chamber," I said evenly.

"Is there something you need from your room? Shall I light a candle?"

"The only thing I need is my own bed."

"Whatever for?"

"How can you ask that, sir? I shall never go to sleep in this mood and neither shall you. I think it best that we sleep apart tonight."

"I do not agree. I wish for you to remain in my bed, and I ask you to respect my wishes."

Oh, how superior he sounds! I thought. I sat there, beginning to fume and willing my voice not to betray my feelings. "I suppose you consider this an excellent opportunity for me to obey you."

"You may choose to perceive it that way," he said, "but I see it as an opportunity for you to be gracious and indulge my preference."

"And am I to remain awake throughout the night just to be deemed gracious and indulgent in your sight?"

"I said nothing about remaining awake, Elizabeth. I want you to lie down and sleep beside me as you have done ever since we truly became husband and wife."

The reminder of our union was not lost on me, for I had reveled in our oneness, thrilled that he loved me and gave me such pleasure, for he was a patient, generous lover. Tonight, however, it was not enough to erase the harsh words that had passed between us earlier. "I fail to see how I shall ever sleep tonight if I remain here."

He rose from the bed and lit a candle on a nearby table. "I always find that a good book helps me fall asleep and I know that you have employed a similar habit in the past. Let me read to you."

Read to me? What is he thinking?

With great curiosity, I watched him walk across the room and select a book from among the myriad assortment on his shelves. When he returned to the bed, I was shocked to see that he held a Bible in his hands.

Is it his intent to preach to me? Oh, happy thought, indeed!

William took his time finding the passage he sought and then he laid it aside and looked into my eyes with a look that no longer contained anger. I turned away from his gaze, unwilling to let my wrath be so easily appeased.

"Elizabeth, have I ever told you of when my mother died?"

This new subject took me completely by surprise. I said nothing, shaking my head slightly.

"I was barely 14 years old and Georgiana was very young. My mother had been ill since my sister's birth and enjoyed scant days of good health from that time on. It was as though she had been dying for more than two years. That last week my father bade me go in to see her alone, at her request. She told me that she loved me and how proud of me she was, and then . . ." his voice almost broke there, "she told me she would not be here to see me grow up and that was one thing she regretted most about leaving this world. She said she longed to see me as a bridegroom and meet the woman who would be my wife. Then she had me retrieve her Bible and she instructed me to turn to several passages that she knew by heart. First, she warned me to look for a good woman, for she impressed upon me that marriage is for life and I would find myself miserable if I did not heed the words of King Solomon."

He handed me the book and pointed out two verses in Proverbs. I read aloud:

" 'The contentions of a wife are a continual dropping . . . It is better to dwell in a corner of the housetop, than with a brawling woman in a wide house.'" ¹

I glared at him. "Perhaps you should have paid closer attention to your mother's admonition."

Taking the Bible from me, he smiled and said, "No, I listened well, for she told me to turn to the final chapter of that same book. There she showed me the type of woman I should seek and I found her:

'Who can find a virtuous woman, for her price is far above rubies? The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil.' ²

"My heart trusts in you, Elizabeth. Will you not allow your heart to trust in me?"

I looked away, moved both by the passage he had just read and the tenderness of his own declaration. Stubbornness still reigned in my heart, however, and so I said in a somewhat flippant manner, "I did not know that you were a biblical scholar, sir."

He smiled. "Hardly, although I have read the book at my mother's insistence. I am no sermon-maker, Elizabeth, just a simple man trying to learn how to be a husband to the only woman in this world that I shall ever love."

I caught my breath when I looked up and saw the look in his eyes. "William, that is not fair."

"What is not fair?" he said lazily, taking my hand in his.

"How can I remain angry when you say such words and look at me in that way?"

He smiled again. "That is my intent, dearest little wife."

I looked away and sighed, knowing that I would succumb to his charms like a moth to a flame. I resolved, however, to not make it easy for him and searched my brain for something neutral upon which to speak, delaying his victory as long as possible. "I should have liked to have known your mother."

"She would have loved you."

"She gave you quite dissimilar advice about marriage than my mother gave me."

"Oh? And what did your mother tell you, or do I want to know?"

"She told me to do anything and everything you asked, to never refuse you, to keep you happy, and that way I would be sure to receive a generous amount of pin money from you."

He laughed aloud, his dimples gracing his countenance in that boyish way that always made me smile. "I believe I quite like your mother's advice and it is not as dissimilar as you might think, for she referenced the Bible, as well."

"Now there you are mistaken, sir," I said, laughing. "I know for a fact that my mother knows but little of the book and she has absorbed even less from the vicar's sermons, for I have watched her struggle in vain to stay awake each Sunday morn."

"But in her own way she quotes St. Paul," William said, taking the Bible from me and turning the pages. "Listen to this from the Corinthian letter:

'The wife hath not power of her own body, but the husband . . . defraud ye not one the other.' ³

"Yes, I do like your mother's advice."

"Let me see that," I demanded, reaching for the book.

He held it up out of my reach. "What? Are you saying you do not trust me, good wife?"

I rose up on my knees and reached for it again, but his arms were much longer than mine, and I fell against him and into his lap. "William, let me read it, for I believe you are making that up."

He held me close to him with one arm and we tussled together, now laughing until I was too weak to keep trying. "Let me see it, I pray you," I finally said, but in a much more gentle voice.

He continued to hold it aloft. "Only if you take back what you just said - you must say that you believe me, that you will always believe your lord and master as befits an obedient wife."

I lunged for the book again, but he was faster and stronger and it was to no avail. "Very well," I cried, "I believe you. Now will you let me see it?"

"What is the need? You said you believed me."

"William! I wish to read it for myself."

He smiled again and began to kiss my cheek, working his way down to my ear and that spot on my neck just below that he knew pleasured me greatly. In doing so, he lowered his hand and I grabbed the Bible. Although it was terribly difficult to concentrate when he continued to trail kisses up and down my neck, I lay back on his pillow and held the book close to the candle until I found the passage he had read.

"Aha! Just as I thought, husband, you neglected to read all of St. Paul's sermon. Listen to this:

'Let the husband render unto the wife due benevolence . . . and likewise also the husband hath not power of his own body, but the wife!' ⁴

"There, I knew there was more to it than you read. What say you to that?"

"Far be it from me to quarrel with St. Paul," he said, now lying beside me, his voice soft and low. "I give you complete power over my body and I shall be glad to render due benevolence unto you, my dearest, darling wife."

I closed the book then and placed it on the table. Who was I to argue with a saint?

1.Proverbs 19:13a; 25:24

2.Proverbs 31:10-11

3.I Corinthians 7:4-5

4.I Corinthians 7:3-4


Chapter Fifteen

Christmas Eve arrived before we knew it. The day was spent in a flurry of activities. The decorated holly-bough was hung from the ceiling in the main drawing room and that evening Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley carried in the huge, gaily trimmed Yule log as our guests and I applauded its arrival. The youngest of the Gardiners' sons ran and sat upon it before anyone else could and so he was commended for his efforts by assurances of much good luck awaiting him in the coming new year. Mr. Darcy gave him a gold coin to begin the cycle and his brother and sisters crowded around him, exclaiming over it. My husband then lit the new log with the saved end of last year's Yule log that he and Georgiana had burned at Pemberley and our roaring Christmas fire blazed.

There was much merriment and joyous cries of "Happy Christmas" all around. Georgiana carried in the Christmas candle and, after lighting it, placed it upon the mantel. It was an exceptionally large taper in order to burn all through the night. The adults filled their glasses from the wassail bowl and the children were provided with cups of hot cider. When we had all been served, Mr. Darcy stood before the fireplace and asked for our attention.

"My friends and family, I wish you all a Happy Christmas. May the new year bring each of us joy, prosperity and happiness. I drink to your health." He downed his glass and then Mr. Gardiner said, "And to yours, Mr. Darcy," whereupon Mr. Bingley chimed in, "Hear, hear."

As we sipped from our glasses, I rejoiced that we were all together in this beautiful home at the dearest time of the year. I also rejoiced to hear Mr. Bingley echo his support of my husband, for I had noticed a definite coolness upon his part the last two days. William had told me that he had at last informed Mr. Bingley of his part in concealing Jane's presence in town last winter, and he apologized for ever attempting to dissuade him from courting her. Mr. Bingley was quite angry when he learned the truth and there had been little conversation between the two friends since their talk.

"In truth, my dear," William said to me, "I know not whether Bingley is angrier with me about my concealment or because I took him to task regarding his lack of ardor toward Miss Bennet. I told him that he needed to stand up and be a man, that if he truly loved your sister, he should not let anything his sisters or I said keep him from declaring his intentions. He does not need my blessing."

"And what did he say to that?" I asked.

"He became somewhat defensive and placed the blame on my shoulders, for he said I had convinced him that Jane Bennet did not care for him. I, in turn, told him he should be strong enough to keep his own counsel and discover the truth for himself. I believe he had already reached that conclusion before we spoke, for he did travel to Netherfield last month without asking my opinion. Perhaps his feelings for your sister will be the making of Bingley ."

By Christmas Eve all seemed to be mended, as Mr. Bingley's endearing amiability had returned. With respectful forbearance, he endured Mamma's pointed remarks whenever Jane strayed within five feet of the kissing bough and I noted that he was rarely far from her side.

The Gardiners' young daughters each stood below the bough and were promptly bussed by their father, who then lifted them up to retrieve a berry from the decorative holly. This was met with laughter and much teasing by their brothers that "no other man will ever kiss them." Kitty caused them to cease their torment by standing beneath the holly-bough, herself, whereupon each of the little boys was goaded into claiming a kiss, one on either of her cheeks. Mortification reigned supreme upon their blushing young faces, but it served its purpose as they no longer beleaguered their sisters.

We played games with the children and gave each of them a small gift and the room was soon littered with tiny scraps of gold paper. At last their nanny ushered them off to bed, having fed them much earlier. That was the signal for the adults to enter the dining room and sit down to our Christmas Eve dinner, only the beginning of many feasts we would partake of during the 12 days of Christmastide. After dinner, Mr. Darcy surprised me by asking Georgiana and Mary to take turns playing for us so that we might dance. The servants pushed back the chairs in the music room and we soon began a rollicking reel. Each time we passed beneath the mistletoe, Mr. Darcy would steal a quick kiss from me, to the delight of my younger sisters. I could not believe with what ease he entered into the frivolity of the season. Mr. Gardiner did the same with his wife and we were soon laughing at how she blushed.

"Bingley, it is now your turn," Mr. Darcy called as his friend danced my oldest sister down the row. I caught my breath, shocked at my husband's newly-found audacity, and wondered if Mr. Bingley would carry through on his suggestion. He did! And I could not say who was pinker, Jane or Mr. Bingley or my mother, for she was laughing and cheering so much so that her countenance had turned positively rosy. Suddenly, I had the strongest yearning for my father's presence. Oh, he would have sat by the fire, shaking his head at the "silliest young women in England," but he would smile that smile of his and I would see the light in his eyes when he gazed upon my mother. Tonight I could see what attracted him to her all those long years ago, for she appeared as much of a girl as any of her daughters ever had. I sensed that it had been her laughter and light-hearted spirit that attracted the cynical nature of my father, adding a dimension to his life he had never experienced before.

The next morning we rose early to attend Christmas church services. The small sanctuary was filled with people I had come to know since moving to Derbyshire, and we were hailed with many smiles and greetings of "Happy Christmas" by our neighbours. As I sat in the pew between my husband and young sister-in-law and listened to the vicar read the old familiar Christmas story, a stream of sunlight beamed through the stained glass windows and bathed our family in its warmth. I was extremely grateful for how good God had been to me that year . . . a year in which I had known both the greatest heartache and happiness in my life.

On Boxing Day Georgiana and I had just completed wrapping the last of the servants' boxes when I heard a shriek echo from above stairs, a familiar sound I recognized as belonging to my mother. Georgiana's eyes widened in wonder and we both ran up the stairs.

"Mamma!" I cried, upon entering her sitting room. "What is wrong?"

"Wrong? Oh, Lizzy, nothing is wrong! Everything is right in this world!" she exclaimed. She was reclining upon a chaise and Jane sat beside her, fanning her with a kerchief. From the looks on their faces, I had little doubt of what had happened.

"Jane?" I asked, stretching out her name.

She jumped up and embraced me. "Oh, Lizzy, he loves me. Mr. Bingley loves me."

"Well, of course he does!" I said.

"Oh, I cannot believe it! He wants to marry me! He has gone to my uncle this very moment."

By this time Mary, Kitty and Mrs. Gardiner had rushed into the room and there was such a commotion of happiness and joy that even some of the servants put in an appearance to see what was the matter.

"When did he ask you?" Kitty asked.

"Did he kneel down?" Georgiana wanted to know.

"When is the wedding?" Mary added.

Jane tried her best to answer each of their questions, but they were coming with such haste, that it was nigh to impossible. Mrs. Gardiner eventually managed to shush everyone and allowed Jane to tell us the details.

"He asked me this morning, only a short time ago."

"I knew it would happen!" Mamma interrupted. "I knew you could not be so beautiful for nothing!"

"Where did it happen?" I asked.

"We took a stroll around your garden, Lizzy. Yesterday's sun has melted some of the snow and there was little wind, so it was quite pleasant out of doors."

"And that is possibly the only place you could be alone, am I not correct?" I asked, laughing.

She smiled and nodded and continued. "He said he has loved me ever since he first came to Netherfield. He did not know that I was in London last winter, Aunt. That is why he never called at Gracechurch Street. I do not understand why Caroline or Mrs. Hurst did not tell him, but it is no matter now. All is made right, for he wants us to be married as soon as possible, Mamma."

"Oh, yes, you must be married by a special licence, my dear," Mamma chimed in. "I am sure Mr. Bingley can see to it, and we will hold the wedding in Longbourne Church. How about in April when the first lilies begin to bloom?"

"How about in February before anything blooms?" I interjected. "That way Jane will be the most beautiful flower in the county."

"February!" Mamma cried. "Oh, no! I cannot possibly plan a wedding by February. We shall have to travel to town for gowns, for that is where all the best warehouses are, and with the inclement weather this time of year, we cannot depend upon getting it all done that soon."

"Why not meet in the middle," Mrs. Gardiner suggested, "and marry in March?"

Jane's eyes lit up and Mamma was soon persuaded to agree upon that month. The remainder of the morning was spent in countless re-telling of the entire proposal scene and my mother's endless wedding plans.

That evening Georgiana and I joined Mr. Darcy in the great old hall where we had held the Harvest Ball. All of the servants were assembled and after enjoying a feast of venison and turkey, we handed out their gifts. The majority of the boxes held money, of course, the most prized contribution we could give them, but I had selected a singular gift for Fiona. Before our guests had arrived to spend Christmas with us, Mr. Darcy and I had spent a day shopping in a neighbouring town. There I had chosen a small gift for Georgiana and some for my sisters and mother when I came across a shawl trimmed with a lovely piece of Irish lace. For some reason it made me think of Fiona, delicate and pretty and yet serviceable, exactly as she was. I resolved to purchase it for her then and there. We had already prepared a box of money for her and Georgiana had previously found a small toy for Willie, but I wanted to give the maid something special, something just from me.

I now drew her aside in the great hall and offered her the wrapped parcel.

"But Mistress, the Master has already given me my box," she said.

"I know," I replied, "this one is just from me."

Her eyes grew big with wonder as she undid the string and opened the package. "Oh, Ma'am, it is beautiful, truly beautiful!" she said, as she held the lace in her hands. "I have never had anything so fine. Thank you, Ma'am, oh, thank you!"

"You are welcome, Fiona. I believe it was made for you."

She reached out and took my hands in hers, squeezing them, a bold move for a servant, but one I welcomed. I had wronged this girl within my mind and even though this gift certainly did not make right what I had done, it did give her pleasure and I sincerely wanted her to have it. As she curtseyed and walked away to join Betty and Willie and show them her treasure, I looked up and caught Mr. Darcy watching us. Our eyes met and although we did not speak, I could feel the warmth of his approval.

We enjoyed mutual approval of each other and nary a discordant word between us during the remaining days of Christmastide, a marvelous feat I rejoiced in, seeing that we endured a house full of company for close to three weeks. Our festivities culminated with the celebration of Twelfth Night. Our closest neighbours, the Darnleys and Ashtons, joined our guests that evening. It was an evening for masks and playacting, an event requiring that I use all of my powers of persuasion on my dear husband to cause to come about.

"Elizabeth," he said, "we have not observed Twelfth Night in such a manner since I was a child."

"All the more reason to do so this year," I said. He did not truly agree with my argument, protesting the masks in particular but he allowed it, perhaps because of my gentle persuasion. Slowly I was learning the man could be more easily swayed by honey rather than vinegar.

Mamma was almost as excited as Kitty and Georgiana about the thought of a masked evening and she questioned Mr. Darcy thoroughly as to whether either of his neighbours had eligible sons among their family. He thrilled her by announcing that young Edward Darnley was an excellent young man and his older brother, as well, and they would be in attendance that evening. She was not quite so thrilled to learn that Mr. Ashton had a pretty daughter whom young Edward was courting.

"But you say there is an elder brother," Mamma said, pursing her lips. "Even better. We shall make what we can of the opportunity." She then went in search of Kitty and Mary to oversee their gowns and masks for the evening. Even this blatant vulgarity on my mother's part did not dissuade Mr. Darcy's good mood, however, and I marveled each day as to how tolerant he had grown of my family's foibles.

I made several trips to the kitchen before the party, personally overseeing the décor of the Twelfth Night cake. I was glad to see that Cook had not disappointed me. The sugar frosting and gilded paper trimmings transformed it into a sight to behold.

"And did you remember to include a bean and pea in it before baking?" I asked.

"Yes, Ma'am," Cook replied. "It is just as you ordered."

The old custom had not been observed at Pemberley for many years, but I wished to reinstate it and as I was now mistress of the house, I made that decision on my own. The beautiful cake was brought in and placed as the centerpiece of the dining table. That night, after music and a clumsy but hilarious theatrical of A Midsummer's Night Dream playacted by the younger members of the family, we sat down to a lavish dinner of boar's head and turkey, plum pudding and gingerbread. Then the cake was cut and everyone was served a piece. It seemed quite fitting that Mr. Darcy found the bean contained in his slice of cake and thus served as king for the night; however, we were all in uproar when Mamma discovered the pea in her serving and was proclaimed queen for the evening. They took their "thrones" (chairs that Georgiana and Kitty had decorated with garlands of white paper flowers) in the smaller ballroom and from there we were obliged to do any and everything they commanded.

I knew that Mr. Darcy was born for that role, but he had his hands full when Mamma began ordering him around along with everyone else. Her natural proclivity for being in command, as well, only added to his dismay. She decreed that Mary should play a jig and that Mr. Darcy and I should lead the dance. She then began to pair up the remaining unmarried couples, beginning with Jane and Mr. Bingley, of course, and ending with Kitty and the Darnley's older son. A jig was not Mr. Darcy's cup of tea and certainly not in front of his neighbours, but he carried through nonetheless. After it was over and we were flushed from the exercise, he made his own law.

"I decree that the king shall not be commanded to dance again this night!" he said, retiring to his throne and enjoying a glass of wine that Georgiana brought him.

By the time our guests departed at the end of the evening and we retired to our chambers, my husband was only too glad to be alone with me behind closed doors. I commended him for his forbearance during the party and, indeed, throughout the extended visit from my family and Mr. Bingley.

"Do not praise me too highly, Elizabeth," he said, "for if truth be known, I am looking forward to tomorrow when they shall leave Pemberley and we shall have our house to ourselves."

I fingered the chain of perfect emeralds around my neck, the Christmas gift he had given me, and thought of how truly generous a man I had married. Fiona had earlier helped me change into my nightgown and robe and brushed out my hair, but I told her to leave the necklace, that I would take it off myself, for I knew that the colour flattered my eyes. Now, I joined him before the fireplace in his chamber and slipped my arms around his neck.

"Praise does not exist that is high enough for you, William," I said. "You are truly the very best of men."

He smiled and gazed into my eyes, taking me into his arms and kissing me tenderly before speaking. "I am far from that, my love, but I believe I do deserve some commendation. This Christmastide has been, by far, the liveliest either Pemberley or I have experienced. I truly am hoping for a quieter time the remainder of January."

"My poor darling," I said, laying my head against his chest. "I am afraid you shall rue the day you ever brought me into your house."

"Elizabeth! How can you say that?" he said, holding me at arms' length where we could face each other.

"Well, you must admit I have disrupted your life entirely. And when you married me, you acquired a bag full of relatives that I know have tried you sorely and shall continue to do so."

He shook his head. "You are wrong. My life was not one of contentment before you came into it, but rather loneliness and tedium. Oh, I had friends enough, my home, my place in society, but none of it meant anything nor could it ever mean anything to me again without you. And yes, your family is interesting, but I now take them as they are and I am grateful for them."

"Grateful? Jane, perhaps, and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, but surely you are not grateful for all of them."

"I am," he said, pulling me onto his lap as he sat on the sofa before the fire. "For without them, there would be no Elizabeth, no lovely, adorable Elizabeth. You are a part of them and they of you, and I would not have it any other way."

I began to kiss him then, softly at first, tenderly caressing his lips until our passions caught fire and soon blazed brighter and higher than the flames before which we sat.

If I said that Mr. Darcy and I never had another cross word between us, it would be false, for as married couples throughout time have known, it is impossible to live with someone and always agree. And seeing that we were of such different temperaments, we still had much to overcome in this relatively new marriage. The next such difficulty arrived a short time after Georgiana's 17th birthday.

She had been much cheered with a house full of guests during the holidays, but since they had left, her spirits had dampened. She spent many hours at the pianoforte or reading. The only time I saw her countenance brighten was when she or Mr. Darcy received a letter from Colonel Fitzwilliam. Upon receipt of a personal letter to her, she would vanish to read it in private, but when a missive arrived for her brother, she would search for him throughout the house and urge him to immediately read it aloud. I grew more and more anxious as to her reaction when Richard revealed his plans to leave the country.

My foreboding was not in vain.

The colonel arrived the day before Georgiana's birthday, January 30th, and he spent 10 days with us, days in which the weather turned bitterly cold and forced us to keep to the house the majority of the time. The day before he was to return to his regiment, however, we were blessed with an absolutely beautiful, sunny morning. The wind stilled, the temperature rose, and the warmth of the sun felt like heaven's kiss shining upon my face. After breakfast, Mr. Darcy suggested that he and the colonel go riding and when Georgiana asked to be included, he agreed. I begged off, as I had not been feeling well the past few days, and assured my husband that I would be quite content to curl up by the fire with a new novel he had recently brought me from the bookstore in Lambton. They were gone for much of the day and I found myself enjoying the unusual solitude. I slept some and by the time they returned, I was feeling better, a fortunate turn of events, for I needed all my resources to deal with the tempest that blew into our house with the arrival of my sister-in-law.

"Oh, Richard, I cannot believe this! I refuse to believe it!" she cried.

"Georgie, pray listen to me," he pleaded to no avail, for she ran past the drawing room and up the staircase to her room, her sobs evident for all to hear.

I rose from my chair before the fire and walked to the doorway, frowning and worried. "Richard? What has happened? Is someone hurt?" I asked.

He started up the stairs, but stopped at my words and the addition of Mr. Darcy, who had just walked in from outside. I had never seen such worry upon the colonel's expression before and feared that something terrible had happened. I was quite relieved to see that all three of them were not injured as far as I could tell.

"Her behaviour is insupportable!" William exclaimed. "Why should she be so distressed?"

"Will someone tell me what is the matter?" I asked again.

Both gentlemen walked with me into the drawing room so that we would no longer discuss such matters in front of the servants. William threw his gloves and hat on a small table and began to pace back and forth. "I must go to her," he said. "I shall tell her she is acting like a child."

"William, Richard, one of you must tell me what is wrong with Georgiana?"

Colonel Fitzwilliam sighed and gave me a long look. "I told her that I would be leaving for Spain next week."

"Oh, Richard, that soon?" I said.

He nodded and William stopped pacing. "I fail to see why this upsets my sister so? She knows you are an officer and the army is sent abroad from time to time. Does she expect you to be exempt from such duties? Why, Fitz, you were in France a few years ago and I do not remember Georgiana having such a reaction."

"Perhaps she was not old enough then to think of the danger," I said. "She now is aware that the colonel will be facing the enemy when he goes to Spain."

"There is little chance of my actually fighting," Richard said. "In my position I am usually with the commanding officers, overseeing things from a safe distance. Georgie need have little worry for my safety."

"Should you not go up and reassure her?" I suggested.

"No," William announced. "I shall deal with Georgiana. I will not have her behaving in this manner." He began walking toward the door.

"William," I said quickly. "Why not let me go to her? A woman's touch may be what she really needs right now."

He looked at me just long enough to listen, but shook his head. "You may go after I am done, Elizabeth. For now, I want to know what is at the bottom of all this." With that, he walked out the door and we could hear him rapidly climbing the stairs.

"Oh, I do wish he had listened to me," I said, sinking down upon the sofa. "Colonel, must you truly go? Can you not see that Georgiana will be lost without you?"

"I cannot stay," he answered. "Once orders are given, there is no going back, and besides, I still think it best that I leave."

"But why? I confess I do not truly understand your reasoning."

"Elizabeth, I have thought about this for a long time, dwelt upon it, in fact. I am 16 years Georgiana's senior. I remember holding her as a babe; she was the most beautiful child I had ever seen. That is all she was to me for the longest time, my dearest little cousin, and then when her father died and he named me guardian along with Darcy, I felt even closer to her and I suppose more protective, if that is possible. She has always been like a little bird, tiny and fragile. Like Darce, I, too, longed to keep her locked up somewhere . . . somewhere no one could ever hurt her. But we failed. We both failed." He walked to the window and stared out through the trees at the sunlight now fading.

"Richard, you cannot hold yourself responsible for what happened to Georgiana with Mr. Wickham. You and William did all that you could to provide a safe environment for her. It is neither your fault nor his that all of you were deceived."

"I acknowledge the truth of your statement in my mind, but somehow my heart refuses to accept it. All I know is that when she was recovered and brought back, Georgiana was no longer a child in my eyes. Oh, I still tease her; I think I call her 'Sprout' to cover my own feelings, to try to convince myself that she is still but a girl and not blossoming into a young woman. I confess that I have seldom seen a face or figure more pleasing to me than hers, but I am a partial old friend. I love to look at her . . . indeed, I could look at her forever for I have truly fallen in love with her." He stood half in shadow and yet the fading sunlight was just enough that I could see the anguish upon his countenance.

I rose and joined him at the window. "And is it inconceivable that she may love you as well?"

He pressed his lips together and shook his head. "Of course she loves me. We have loved each other as cousins all our lives, but no, she is not old enough to know what mature love is, to return the measure of love that I feel. Do you not see, Elizabeth, that I cannot place that burden upon her? She needs time . . . her time in the sun and with you as her sister, I know that she will have it. Oh, Darce will fight you right and left, but you must be strong for her. Work your charm on him and make him see that he must let her go. When she comes out in the spring, he must not discourage the young men who come calling, only make certain they are worthy. I am not courageous enough for the task and that is why I must leave. But you can, Elizabeth, and you can make Darcy accept it. Let Georgiana have her chance."

"Do you not fear the possibility that she may accept a suitor and marry?"

He stared at the floor but not before I saw him wince. "I do," he said, his voice barely audible. "Perchance that would be best. I want her to fall in love, to know the ecstasy and misery such feelings cause, and yet I cannot bring myself to witness it. You and Darcy must sustain her through this."

I put my hand on his arm for but a moment, for I longed to comfort him somehow. If my heart was breaking to witness this sacrifice, what must he be feeling? "I shall do what I can, Richard," I said softly, but I did not feel that it would be near enough.

William walked into the room just then. "Elizabeth, she wants you."

I nodded and left them, wondering what had transpired between brother and sister. Upstairs I found a subdued, chastened young girl with stains of tears still on her face. I poured some water into a basin, moistened a cloth and gently wiped her cheeks. "Can I help you, Georgiana?"

She shook her head and sighed. "Wills says I am acting like a spoilt child and I know that he is right. I do not understand why I am so upset. Richard has gone away time and again and he has always come back. He will return this time, will he not?"

"Of course," I said quickly, although I chewed my lip afterwards. I did not want to bring up the chances a soldier takes in war no matter how lightly Richard dismissed them, and I hoped that she would not think of them.

"It is just that I am so afraid to face my debut in town without him."

"Your brother and I will be with you, Georgiana, as well as Lord and Lady Matlock. You do not have to do it alone."

"I know that, but Wills cannot dance with me. Richard would and he is such a divine dancer."

I turned away and closed my eyes, acknowledging then that Richard was correct. In many ways Georgiana was still so young, her greatest worry being whom she would dance with. "There will be many young men who will dance with you," I said lightly.

"Will there? What if no one asks me?"

I smiled. "You worry in vain. I am sure you will be vastly popular."

"Oh, no, I do not wish to be popular. The very thought of having to make conversation with all those strangers frightens me exceedingly. With Richard there, I should always have someone at my side and I could dance with him instead, if I was alarmed by one who asked for my hand. Elizabeth, I do not know why I am saying all this or why his leaving upsets me so. I feel very confused."

"Welcome to growing up, my dear," I said, patting her hand.

"I thought confusion never plagued adults, that they always know what is best."

"In truth? Hardly ever. That is a myth we tell children. Now that I am grown, I know it only too well."

The faint semblance of a smile played about her countenance and I embraced her and patted her back. "All will be well, Georgiana. I truly believe that." She rose from the bed then and, after washing her face, accompanied me to join the men below stairs. The evening progressed without further unpleasantness, although both Georgiana and the colonel were unusually subdued. She agreed to play his favourite selections on the pianoforte and I noticed the wistful, yearning expression in his eyes as he watched her performance.

Later that night in the drawing room, however, after Richard and Georgiana had retired Mr. Darcy returned to the earlier incident. "Elizabeth, did you learn what was behind Georgiana's ill pleasure this afternoon? She made little sense to me."

I closed my eyes and prayed for wisdom. I desired to be honest with my husband and yet I did not want to betray Richard's confidence. "I think Georgiana is simply afraid of the future, William. She expressed qualms regarding her coming out in the spring and especially without Richard by her side. She relies on him more than we know."

"They have always enjoyed a close camaraderie, but surely she understands that he cannot entirely shield her from society's perusal. And does she not consider me adequate protection against any roués or rakes who may come calling?"

"Oh, I am certain you will do all that is necessary in that regard," I said quickly. "Perhaps even more than is necessary," I added under my breath.

Unfortunately, he heard me. "Elizabeth. Do I detect a complaint in that last remark?"

"Not a complaint, sir, just a statement of fact."

"I do not understand."

"William, you know that you are far too protective of Georgiana. I fear that the coming season shall prove quite difficult for you."

"How can you say that? After what happened with Wickham, how can I be too protective?"

"I was 15 when that happened, Wills," Georgiana said, startling both of us by her return to the room.

"We thought you had retired, dear," I said quickly.

"I came back for a book I left over there," she replied, crossing the room to the chair in which she had sat earlier. "And Wills, I am no longer that same girl. Must I suffer for it the rest of my life?"

"Georgiana," he said forcefully. "I did not mean to infer in any way that you were responsible. Let us drop the subject."

"But I was responsible!" she insisted. "When will you or Richard ever accept that? I listened to Mr. Wickham's flattery; I allowed myself to be seduced by his pretty words; I knew enough to know that elopement was not the proper way in which to marry, and yet I agreed to it. He is not the only one at fault."

"Georgiana!" Mr. Darcy said even louder. "We shall not discuss this further. You know my wishes on the subject."

"Yes, I do," she replied in a barely audible voice, obviously chastened, "but do you know mine, Wills? Has anyone other than Elizabeth ever asked me about my feelings?"

"Elizabeth?" Mr. Darcy turned to glare at me. "Have you discussed that unforgivable occurrence with my sister in direct contradiction to my orders?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but Georgiana interrupted me. "Only when I brought it up, Wills. Please do not blame Elizabeth."

"I do not want that incident ever spoken of again. Do I make myself clear?" Mr. Darcy said, his tone deadly.

Georgiana nodded and keeping her eyes on the floor, she sank down on the sofa and began to cry quietly. I started toward her when Mr. Darcy spoke again. "Elizabeth, do you understand me?"

I turned and glared at him and wanted to cry, Only too well, sir! And do you understand that you are the most insensitive, obstinate man who ever lived? But I swallowed my ire and nodded. We both turned our faces from each other then and I bit my tongue until I could taste blood. Remember, 'a soft answer turneth away wrath,'¹ I repeated to myself, for I had begun spending time in the Old Testament book of Proverbs since learning it had been a favourite of Mr. Darcy's mother. I walked to the sofa and sat beside Georgiana, taking her hand in mine. By that time I had regulated my breathing and I lowered my tone before I spoke.

"William, I pray that you will hear what I say. Neither Georgiana nor I set out to go against your wishes."

"Oh, no, Wills," Georgiana added. "We would never do that. It is just that . . ."

"Just what?" he demanded.

"Sometimes," Georgiana said, "I think Richard may be leaving because of what . . . you will not allow me to speak of."

"My dear," I said. "What are you saying? What happened to you has nothing to do with Richard leaving."

"It may, Elizabeth," she said. "After I returned from Ramsgate, I sensed a difference in him. Oh, he is the same in his affection and care, but at times I find him looking at me in an unusual manner, as though I am no longer myself. I feel damaged, that I shall never be good enough again in either Richard's or William's eyes, so how can I be good enough to face society?"

"Oh, no," I said, putting my arms around her, as she began to cry anew. "You are wrong, dearest. William, tell her she is wrong."

He joined us immediately and took her into his arms, cradling her head upon his chest. "Georgiana, please do not cry. Elizabeth is correct. You are not damaged. You are as beautiful and whole and innocent as before it ever happened."

"I am not innocent, Wills," she said between sobs. "I allowed Mr. Wickham to . . . to kiss me and more than once."

William's eyes met mine and I saw greater anger flash within his. I tried desperately to signal him not to react in that manner, slightly shaking my head and beseeching him with a look. When he remained silent, I knew that he could not speak without saying more than he should, and so I said, "Georgiana, is that all? Is a kiss all that happened between you and Mr. Wickham?"

"Why, yes, of course, but is that not bad enough?"

"It is enough," I said, looking back at William's relieved expression, "but no real harm has occurred. And you are mistaken in taking the blame for what happened. Compared to Mr. Wickham, you were an innocent child and he took advantage of your naivety, he and Mrs. Younge. I know of Mr. Wickham's charm only too well for I, too, was fooled by it in the past."

She turned away from her brother then to look at me. "You, Elizabeth?"

When I nodded, he interrupted. "This does not need to be spoken of. I want the discussion to end."

"Wills, I pray you," Georgiana said and I was surprised at the depth of pleading in her tone. "I need to know how Mr. Wickham prevailed upon Elizabeth . . . that is, if she is willing to tell me."

"But why?" he declared, looking totally bewildered. "Why must you talk of a subject that evokes nothing but pain?"

"To be heard," I said gently. "To know we are not alone in our foolishness. Sir, this is what women do. It is, perhaps, our fate rather than our merit. We cannot help ourselves. We live at home, quiet, confined, and our feelings prey upon us. You are forced on exertion. You have always pursuits, business of some sort or other, to take you back into the world immediately, and continual occupation and change soon weaken impressions. You need not talk of such things, but you must allow us."

William looked at me as though I spoke a foreign language; to his credit, however, he made no further demand, but stalked across the room to stare out the window. I took Georgiana's hand and began to tell her the story of when I first met Mr. Wickham in Meryton and of how I, as well as most of the folk in Hertfordshire, believed the false story he spread about her brother. She was horrified, of course, and said, "When did you learn the truth, Elizabeth?"

"Last Easter when I was visiting in Kent. William wrote me a letter and told me of Mr. Wickham's true nature."

"Was that the letter I saw you re-reading in your chamber when Wills was in London?"

I nodded and saw Mr. Darcy turn and look directly at me, a question in his eyes. He did not interrupt us, though, and so I continued, telling how Mr. Wickham had seduced my youngest sister last summer and how he never would have married her if not for Mr. Darcy's generous intervention. She looked at her brother with a new look of admiration. "So that is what caused you to leave Pemberley with such haste last July," she said to him. He did not reply and turned back to the window, but I nodded in agreement with her statement.

"Can you now understand, Georgiana, that you were not at fault to believe Mr. Wickham? The man is a master at deception and your admiration of him was based on lies, but perfectly understandable."

"Do you think Richard shares your acquittal of me?"

"Of course he does," William said quickly. "You must never believe that you were at fault again, Georgiana, not in mine or Elizabeth's eyes, and certainly not in Fitzwilliam's. Shall we now let the incident die once and for all?"

He had left the window and come to stand before us. Taking Georgiana's hands, he lifted her to meet his gaze. "Yes, Wills," she said, "but please allow Elizabeth and I to sort things out from now on. If you truly want us to be sisters, grant us this comfort and no longer declare that certain things will not be mentioned in this house."

Mr. Darcy sighed and nodded ever so slightly in agreement, but after his sister left the room, I watched his brows knit together in a frown and I could see how he struggled to repress his emotions. Georgiana's request went against all that he had ever known. He had spent his entire life avoiding discussion of personal subjects, as his father before him had done, but now his young sister was asking for her independence from such censure, and he was only too aware that it had come about because of my influence.

With a somewhat weary gesture, he sat down in a large chair before the fire, leaning back, his hand upon his mouth, while he stared at the flames. I knelt before him and took his other hand in mine. "Are you angry with me, William?" I asked softly.

He shook his head, but his expression did not change and he continued to gaze at the fire.

"You do believe that I have had undue influence upon your sister, do you not?" When he made no response, I continued. "I might remind you that is the very reason you married me. You asked that my lively ways might somehow affect her spirits."

He met my eyes then. "That was the reason I gave for marrying you, but we both now know the truth."

I smiled, aware that his voice had grown deeper and less troubled. "Yes, and do not think that I am ungrateful for your love, but still I take my obligation toward your sister seriously. I know that I have caused you unhappiness by forcing this issue to come to light."

He sighed again. "I cannot blame you. If there was any force, it was done by my sister's distress and although I hate to admit it, probably for the best. Open discussion of hurtful occurrences is not easy for me, Elizabeth, but if my carrying forward the pattern I learned from my father harms Georgiana, then I must change, no matter how painful that change is to me."

"You are exceptionally brave, my love," I said, taking his face in mine.

"No, I am not, and I am in dire need of comforting at this moment."

I began to kiss his lips, softly and tenderly. "Does this help?" I murmured.

"Hmm . . . a little. I cannot tell for sure. Perhaps you should try it again."

He gathered me onto his lap then and I proceeded to comfort him in such a way that we both derived great benefit.

We bid Colonel Fitzwilliam adieu the next morning. Georgiana tried her best, but she could not halt the tears spilling from her eyes. As Mr. Darcy gave last minute orders to the driver, Richard kissed my young sister's hand.

"Oh, Richard!" she cried, flinging herself into his arms. "Promise me you will return soon."

He embraced her tenderly and his eyes met mine as he kissed her hair. "There is no need to fret, Sprout. I shall be back before you know it. After all, I cannot miss dancing at your wedding." Although his words were spoken in jest, the pain in his eyes was unmistakable. Mr. Darcy and I stood beside her as she waved until the departing carriage could no longer be seen in the distance.

"Surely, he will not be gone too long," Georgiana said, her voice breaking.

"Of course not," Mr. Darcy said. "You know Fitzwilliam. He shows up when you least expect him. I would not be at all surprised to see him return within six months or less."

My husband's prediction was in error, however. We did not see Colonel Fitzwilliam for four long years and a great many things can happen in that length of time.

1. Proverbs 15:1


Chapter Sixteen

We traveled to Hertfordshire in early March for Jane's wedding to Mr. Bingley. It had been an exceptionally cold winter and I was thrilled to now see vestiges of spring beginning to appear in the countryside. We were to stay at Netherfield, for that great house contained much more adequate room than Longbourn for Georgiana, Mr. Darcy, and I, along with our maids, valet, and other servants. As we climbed the stone steps leading to the entryway, vivid memories washed over me, transporting me back to an earlier year. The last time I had entered that house, I had danced with Mr. Darcy and deemed him the best dancer I had ever encountered, but surely the most difficult man to understand upon the face of the earth. My, how much my opinion had altered in little more than a year!

Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, as well as Miss Bingley, were also in attendance at the estate and thus, Georgiana and I oft times found ourselves spending much of the day at Longbourn. My sister-in-law much preferred the general noisy uproar of my old home to the stilted, hypocritical remarks Mr. Bingley's sisters inflicted upon the general conversation. Back and forth, their talk would swing from gushing over 'dear Georgiana' to thinly veiled, sniping remarks aimed at my mother and younger sisters, lamenting the fact that their only brother was marrying down in the world. Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley, along with Mr. Hurst, escaped as early as possible each morning to their retreat of sport, and so the superior sisters found themselves in the sole company of each other for most of the days preceding the wedding.

Mamma, naturally, was almost hysterical in her preparations for the nuptials. I did my best to relieve Jane of her oppression and welcomed my Aunt Philips' daily attendance, as it at least gave Jane and I some respite and chance to be alone with each other. Of course, Mrs. Philips had returned to her tiresome habit of quoting proverbs and I vowed to Jane that I might engage in a desperate act if I heard Happy is the bride that the sun shines on one more time. One morning, after she glanced outside at the approaching clouds and then uttered it for the 15th time, I finally spoke up.

"I would not put much stock in that old saying, Aunt, for I can testify it takes more than sunshine to make a happy bride."

"Now, Lizzy," she replied, "these old sayings, as you call them, have stood me in good stead for many a year and I will have you know I have been proved false on nary a one."

"But Aunt, surely you must recall, it poured on my wedding day and yet I find myself quite cheerful."

She tsked tsked over my rebuttal and tried to think of another appropriate adage to salvage her opinion with, but I conveniently remembered a task calling me to another room, and made my escape. In fact, I had endured all of the close family contact I could for the present and, seeing that Georgiana was happily trimming bonnets with Kitty, I grabbed my shawl and bonnet and skipped out the back door. I longed for a walk in the old, familiar woods and the weather was mild enough to accommodate me. I reveled in the beginning buds popping out on trees and shrubs and the touch of scarlet the crocuses provided as they peeked out for a look at this new season.

I walked no little way that afternoon and after awhile, seeing the sun begin to lower in the sky, I observed that I should begin to make my way back to my mother's house. Before I returned, though, I climbed the small hill behind Longbourn Village and walked through the gates fronting the cemetery where my father was buried. I could not walk those lanes and woods without thinking of him, without recalling how I had lost him at almost this very time only a year ago. Finding his grave, I knelt and placed upon it the small bouquet of wild blooms I had gathered. I ran my fingers across the roughly carved letters of his name and the dates of his birth and death below.

"Oh, Papa," I whispered, as a tear escaped and ran down my cheek, "I miss you so." I allowed myself to cry a bit and then blew my nose and began to recall happier times. I could still see the twinkle in his eye and that sly, unreadable expression about his face when he made one of his droll statements, usually at my mother's expense, the meaning of which she never seemed to grasp. I remembered the talks we enjoyed in his study or walking about the grounds at Longbourn, how he could not wait for me to share a new book he received and enter into a long discussion of its merits. Although neither a perfect man nor parent, he had been a very dear father and I missed him most heartily.

I began to speak to him aloud in that way people have spoken to their departed loved ones for centuries, longing to feel a bit of communion with one another again.

"How I wish you were here to see Jane marry, Papa. She will make such a beautiful bride, but of course, you have always known that. Mr. Gardiner shall escort her down the aisle, but do not think he can replace you, for that is impossible. You need not worry about her, though, for I believe she and Mr. Bingley will be happily settled. Their tempers are by no means unlike, each of them so complying that nothing will ever be resolved on; so easy that every servant will cheat them; and so generous that they will always exceed their income."

I could not help but smile to think that my father would most probably have uttered that very statement had he been there. Our minds had been much alike and we had enjoyed a compatibility of temper and humor unlike anyone else in our family. I sat back upon the damp ground, looking up as the light wind rustled the new leaves on the trees, now causing my curls to blow slightly. I was glad that my father was buried there, for it was a beautiful spot and if one looked off in the distance, the spire of Longbourn Church could be seen faintly through the trees. As I lowered my gaze, I was surprised to see a man's figure emerge from the wood, growing ever closer as he walked toward me.

I smiled upon recognition of William's familiar gait and long legs. Hastily, I tried to brush aside the tears from my cheeks and began to rise. He put out his hand, motioning me to stay where I was. "Do not get up, dearest, unless this ground is too uncomfortable for you," he said, kneeling beside me and with one finger under my chin, tipped my face up to meet his. "You have been weeping," he said, gently rubbing his thumb across my cheek.

"How did you know to find me here?" I asked.

"I did not," he replied. "I have combed those woods behind us for a good half-hour, looking for you. This place was my final quest before returning to Longbourn. Are you cold? Shall I give you my coat?"

I shook my head. "I am fine, William. Do not worry so. After several hours of Mamma's endless fluttering and Mrs. Philips' proverbs, I was desperate to find a peaceful spot."

"I see you have been picking flowers for your father."

"Yes, and telling him of Jane's wedding. Oh, how I wish he could be here."

"As do I," he said, putting his arm around me and holding me close. "Have you told him of our news?"

"Not yet," I said softly, and then placed my hand upon the gravestone. "Papa, come next October, Mr. Darcy and I shall make you a grandfather."

"Surely, he would want a granddaughter the image of you," William said.

"I am not so certain of that. After spending his life amongst scads of women, my father might now prefer the addition of a man-child to his family."

"Either way, as long as the babe looks like you, I shall be happy."

"A short, scrawny boy will not do, William. Let us hope that any son we have will inherit your good looks and my excellent temper," I said, cheekily, taking his hand and placing it upon my stomach. "I fear that I shall not be slim for long. I am hoping I can hide it until after Jane's wedding."

"So you have told neither your mother nor sisters?"

I shook my head. "It shall be our secret for now, yours, mine and my father's."

He smiled and, kissing my nose, he hugged me even closer. "And if it is a boy, shall we name him for your father and mine?"

"I would love that, William." I agreed.

"Are you ready to leave, my love? You should not sit on damp ground too long and the sun is beginning to set."

I nodded and allowed him to help me rise. I ran my hand over my father's stone once more and stooped to place a kiss upon it, but I did not cry again. Instead, I tucked my hand in my husband's arm and allowed him to lead me down the hill, leaning upon him for my support.

A week after the wedding, we traveled from Netherfield to London. Arriving a bit early for the season but having much to do to insure Georgiana's debut, it was only practical that we do so. In spite of her misgivings and nerves, she made a lovely appearance upon society and, just as the good colonel had predicted, young men lined up to not only dance with her, but to call upon her from then on. I spent my days advising her on pertinent topics of conversation, serving as chaperone and consoling my husband's distraught nerves at the number of beaus now filling up our townhouse. More and more I hoped that our child would be a boy, for if William was this particular about his sister, how would his daughter ever survive?

Surprisingly, I made it through the four months of balls and parties without physically showing that I was with child until near the close of the season, mainly because I suffered nausea morning and night and gained very little weight. Fiona proved to be of invaluable aid, for she not only could commiserate with my plight, but she had several old Scottish remedies that relieved my suffering for short periods. By the time we returned to Pemberley in July, my sickness vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and I soon began to put on weight and achieve that glow that surrounds expectant mothers.

My confinement proceeded without incident and our first son was born on October 28th at four o'clock in the morning, barely more than a year after Mr. Darcy and I had entered into our arranged marriage. I elected to nurse him myself rather than secure the services of a wet nurse and I gloried in motherhood, marveling daily that this beautiful little person had come into my life. He was the image of his father and I laughed often, seeing exactly how William would have looked as a babe. When his tiny brows knit together in a frown, I could see a miniature Mr. Darcy tuning up to holler, and when I coaxed him into a smile, I delighted in seeing those same dimples light up his little face.

Fiona surprised us six months later by announcing that she was leaving Pemberley's service. It seemed that one of Mr. Darcy's tenants, a Mr. Martin MacAdams, had been courting her right beneath our noses and she had at last agreed to marry him. I hated to see her leave, for I had grown to rely upon her excellent services, but at the same time I rejoiced to see her find someone who loved her and Willie and would give them a home of their own. We attended their wedding in the small village church and I smiled when Fiona entered, wearing the lace-trimmed shawl I had given her the year before at Christmastide.

That next summer, news came from Longbourn that Kitty was to marry the local curate, Mr. James Morris. She had spent much time at Netherfield and under Jane's gentle tutelage, she had matured into a much quieter, dignified young woman. Mamma was upset at first, still desiring a more advantageous match for her, but with Jane and Mr. Bingley's influence, she was soon made to see the wisdom of the match, for the young man was truly in love with Kitty and she with him.

I wish I could say that Mary made a like marriage, but it was not to be. Instead, once she was left the only daughter at Longbourn, she began to write. Like water bubbling forth from a spring, words poured from her pen and upon sending them to my aunt in town for her enjoyment, Mr. Gardiner was actually able to find an editor there who wished to publish her stories. I confess that I was speechless after reading the first such edition, for I fully expected a spinsterish version of Fordyce's Sermons aimed at warning young women of the perils o