Regina Jeffers - Christmas at Pemberley

“It sounds as if the British have everything in hand,” Mr. Collins remarked.

Edward said dryly, “The lieutenant omits the fact that he saved me from a bullet at Bladensburg.” His words sent an obvious shiver through his young cousin’s body, and he wished he had withheld the information that had brought Georgiana anguish. He still couldn’t believe the changes in her. She was absolutely mesmerizing.

“It was my duty, Sir,” Southland protested.

“It was an honorable act,” Edward corrected.

Manneville chortled. “You hear only the British side.”

Mr. Bennet questioned. “Is there another side, Mr. Manneville?”

The man stood closer to the fire than the others. He continued to warm himself. “If you inquire whether my loyalties lie with the Brits or the Yanks, Mr. Bennet, I’d confess to neither passion.” The man’s words smoothly tripped from his tongue. “My father was British and my mother American. I win either way.”

Caroline Bingley, who’d been watching both strangers carefully, ventured, “Have the British suffered losses, Mr. Manneville?”

“The American defense of Fort McHenry turned back the British forces, Ma’am.” He continued with the enticing lilt that took tragic events and softened their edges. “In the North, Captain Thomas MacDonough destroyed the British fleet in the Battle of Lake Champlain. The British have retreated into Canada.”

“When we departed,” Edward explained, “our forces under Wellington’s brother in marriage, Sir Edward Pakenham, marched into the city of New Orleans. Some 10,000 troops and fifty ships are involved.”

“Shall the British prevail?” Kitty asked innocently.

The lieutenant resumed the telling. “The Americans have a veteran leader in Major General Andrew Jackson.”

Mr. Manneville let out a harsh chuckle. “They call Jackson ‘Old Hickory’ for a reason. He won’t bend.”

Lady Catherine interrupted, “Well, I have had enough of this unholy war for one evening.” She stood to depart. “Edward, we are pleased in your safe return. Matlock will be sorry he missed you.”

“I’ll send Father word when the weather changes.” He bowed to her. “Good evening, Your Ladyship.”

“I should’ve taken my leave some time ago,” Mr. Winkler announced to the group.

Georgiana caught Kitty’s blush. Mr. Winkler had stood behind Kitty’s chair for the last hour. “You cannot leave, Mr. Winkler. I cannot have you hurt after playing the Good Samaritan for Mr. and Mrs. Collins.”

“That’s too kind, Miss Darcy. But I should not…” Winkler began.

“Nonsense,” the colonel declared. “Mr. Darcy can afford a room for your comfort, Winkler.”

Georgiana’s gaze never wavered. “It’s settled, Sir.”

An hour later, Georgiana and Kitty climbed the main stairs together. “When had you planned to tell me of Mr. Winkler?” Georgiana teased.

“As I did not know myself until this evening, how could I tell anyone?” Kitty’s eyebrow kicked up.

Georgiana giggled. “What do you think of the possibilities?”

Kitty clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Delicious. At least, in some ways. Mr. Winkler is a fine-looking man. But then again, so are Mr. Manneville, Lieutenant Southland, and your cousin.”

Georgiana jerked to a stop, her mind rebelling at her friend’s words. “Kitty, you’re welcome to choose among our guests. Look to Mr. Winkler, to Mr. Manneville, or to the lieutenant. Look to any of them except the colonel.”

Kitty wrapped her hand around Georgiana’s elbow and smiled sweetly. “Exactly as I supposed. So, that’s how the land lies?”

“That’s exactly how it is.”

Darcy’s eyes opened to the first streaks of light working their way between the window shutters’ slats. He inhaled his wife’s sleep-seduced body as she burrowed deeper into him, seeking his heat as her own. Even during the warm summer months, Elizabeth woke in need of the day’s heat; and from that first morning when they had awakened in each other’s arms, Darcy had willingly provided it. Enjoying her softness along his body’s length, he tightened his embrace. Elizabeth had invaded his dreams, haunted them, in fact, from the night of the Meryton assembly, the night he had first laid eyes on her.

He would wake in yearning, thinking of how it would be to fill his lungs with her scent and to know her taste on his tongue. Elizabeth’s ardent spirit had ruined his life — the arrogant and presumptuous life he had led before meeting her: the dreadful time when he had simply existed, half-alive and half-dead. Sometimes, he had wished that he could explain how much she had changed everything he had known before her, how much joy Elizabeth brought him each day. He had even considered begging her to forego their having a child. If it meant losing Elizabeth, Darcy would rather not have an heir. Pemberley could pass to Georgiana’s children.

A light knocking brought his senses fully alert. Easing Elizabeth away, Darcy unwrapped the blanket and sat on the bed’s edge. Standing gingerly and testing his legs, he had taken several steps in the door’s direction before he recalled the double occupancy. He reached for his shirt and pulled it over his head and then cinched a robe over that.

Watching his step in the crowded room, Darcy made his way to the door. Opening it, he found Mrs. Washington and Nan holding ewers of hot water. “Morning, Sir,” the inn’s proprietress whispered. “Brought ye fresh water.”

“Thank you, Ma’am,” he said huskily. “Put it on the table.” He gestured to a small side table along the wall.

“Breakfast be ready in half an hour, Sir,” she informed him.

“Mr. Joseph and I will be down soon, the ladies a bit later.” Darcy remained by the door. “How does the weather look?”

“Stopped raining. Now if we kin get some sunshine to help with the meltin’, things might return to normal.” Mrs. Washington brushed a hair wisp under her cap.

Darcy had wanted to depart for Derbyshire. “What are the travel possibilities?”

“Mr. Washington say it’ll not happen ’til the morrow, but ye kin sees for yerself when ye come down, Sir.” She turned to leave. “It be a good thing, Mr. Darcy. What ye and Mrs. Darcy did.” With a quick glance about the room, the woman disappeared into the dark hallway.With a disbelieving look of her own, Nan closely followed.

Darcy hefted one of the ewers and carried it to his side of the room. Pouring some water in a bowl, he undressed to the waist and washed as best he could. Then he lathered his face and finally lit a candle so he might see his reflection in a small mirror. Removing the razor from its case, he ran the edge along the whetstone to sharpen it.

“So handsome,” a husky whisper brought his attention to the bed’s female figure.

Smiling broadly, Darcy teasingly leaned over her, pretending to want to kiss Elizabeth while spreading the lather from his face to hers. “Morning, Love,” he whispered seductively.

“No!” she gasped on an inhalation and shoved hard against his bare chest. “You cannot, Fitzwilliam.” She pulled the blanket over her head, further muffling her words of protest.

Darcy gently wrestled the linens from her hands. Leaning over her and pressing his weight across Elizabeth’s body, he lovingly caught her hands and brought them to rest above his heart. “I could.” He draped himself closer. “But I would not.” He paused to give her time to stop squirming. “If you promise me your loyalty.” He shielded his words from the Josephs.

Elizabeth quieted before staring deeply into his eyes. “I’m far from devoid of proper feelings where you’re concerned, Mr. Darcy. I love you to distraction.”

Darcy stroked her cheek. “My heart beats out a love staccato — one bearing your name, Lizzy.”

A hushed conversation from the partition’s other side told him that the Josephs also stirred. He released Elizabeth and sat on the bed’s edge. Taking a steadying breath, Darcy spoke loud enough for all to hear. “Mr. Joseph, if you’ll see to the fire, I’ll light the candles. Mrs. Washington has brought hot water. I suggest we dress and go down to breakfast. Then the ladies can see to their needs and follow us.”