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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

“I did. Thank you for your generosity.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I agree, but when a man loses a contested dispute, he often blames others for his failure,” Winkler countered.

Kitty blushed. “I was foolish, was I not? All I wished to do was please you — to prove myself worthy of your attentions.”

Winkler leaned closer to speak to her alone. “I was vain enough to realize that fact when you confessed your secret.” He squeezed her hand. “And you do please me, Catherine, more than you realize.”

“Do I, Thorne? Do I truly?”

Winkler laughed lightly. “Are you searching for compliments, my dear?”

Kitty started to argue but quickly switched to a flirtatious attitude. “I shouldn’t have to seek compliments if I’m of a pleasing nature.You should shower me with them without my prompting.”

Winkler barked a laugh. “You’re too precious. You’ll bring life to my household.”


“I’m happy you decided to join us.” Mr. Bennet escorted his wife toward the pond.

Mrs. Bennet clung tightly to her husband’s arm. “It’s a great sacrifice to spend time in the cold, but a mother must chaperone her children.”

“Jane and Mr. Bingley might serve as chaperones for Mary and Kitty if you should wish to return to Pemberley’s warmth,” he said in that teasing manner in which he’d always spoken to her. Actually, he’d once favored the woman. Captivated by youth and beauty and that appearance of good humor, which youth and beauty generally give, he had fallen for the woman immediately, but early in their marriage, respect, esteem, and confidence had vanished forever, and all his views of domestic happiness were overthrown. But he was not of a disposition to seek comfort for the disappointment which his own imprudence had brought on in any of those pleasures which too often console the unfortunate for their folly or their vice. He was fond of the country and of books, and from these tastes had arisen his principal enjoyments. To his wife he was very little indebted than as her folly had contributed to his amusement. Mr. Bennet readily realized this was not the sort of happiness which a man would in general wish to owe to his wife, but he had often told himself, “Where other powers of entertainment are wanting the true philosopher will derive benefit from such as are given.”

“Dearest Jane is all that’s good, but she could easily be called away to tend the twins. Besides, a mother’s care cannot be lessened by convenience.”

“My only care is your own health. Heaven forbid that you should precede me in death,” he said in a taunt. “You cannot expect me to seek husbands for our girls with the same diligence that you demonstrate.”

Ignoring his tone, as she was apt to do, Mrs. Bennet whispered, “I wish Mr. Manneville had sought Kitty’s company again today. I fear she has done the man a disservice, and he’ll not forgive her.”

Mr. Bennet mockingly said, “You find Mr. Manneville the superior choice, my dear?”

“The man has deep pockets, Mr. Bennet,” she reasoned.

“In America,” he reminded her.

Mrs. Bennet shrugged off his objections. “Kitty could have a house as grand as Netherfield Park. Would you not want that for your daughter, Mr. Bennet?”

“I would want Kitty in a relationship in which her husband respected her.” He thought again of his own marriage’s failure. “Jane and Elizabeth have achieved such happiness, and I have hopes for Mary.”

“And of Lydia?” Mrs. Bennet cared best for their youngest daughter.

“You know my opinion of Mr. Wickham,” he warned. “I’ll never understand how Wickham and Lydia can be supported in tolerable independence nor how little of permanent happiness can belong to a couple who were only brought together because their passions were stronger than their virtue.”

“Mr. Bennet,” she exclaimed a little too loudly and had to moderate her objection. “You should not speak so despairingly of your own child.”