Christmas in this dreary inn would be a sorry excuse for a holiday if the roads didn’t clear soon. Looking about the room, Elizabeth’s eyes fell on Darcy. She sighed deeply. At least, they were together. Being at Pemberley meant nothing if her husband was elsewhere.

“A copper for your thoughts,” Darcy said as he approached.

Elizabeth bestowed a brilliant smile upon him. “I’d just considered how fortunate I am to be your wife. To be at Pemberley would be heavenly, but not without your presence. Though I must admit that sometimes when we’re there, I imagine our hearts beating in tandem.” Her frankness always appeared to have the oddest effect on Darcy. His eyes devoured her.

“Even when I thought I’d lost you forever, I lived with hope. I am thankful you became my forever, Elizabeth,” he murmured softly.

“You have me now, Mr. Darcy,” she said, keeping her voice light.

His steely grey eyes turned onyx. “And I bless each day because of your love.”

As they stared lovingly at each other, the innkeeper’s wife hustled toward the kitchen, and Elizabeth impulsively turned to the woman. “Mrs. Washington.”

“Yes, Mrs. Darcy?” The pleasingly plump woman brushed a hair’s strand from her flushed face.

Elizabeth caught Darcy’s hand to pull him along with her as she approached the harrowed-looking woman. “I realize you’re terribly busy and probably haven’t considered how close Christmas Day might be.”

The woman sighed deeply. “Me and Mr. Washington planned a quiet day, but the English weather be having other ideas.”

“Would you mind, Ma’am, if Mr. Darcy and I cut some greenery and brought it back to the inn? A bit of the festive days?”

“Are you certain, Elizabeth?” Darcy asked. She knew he worried she might overdo it.

“Please, Fitzwilliam. I want Christmas; I really want Christmas at Pemberley, but if that proves impossible, I want Christmas here. I cannot tolerate bare rooms and nothing recognizing the day’s meaning.”

Darcy nodded. She noted something secretive passing over his countenance, but Elizabeth assumed he had bought her something expensive, and it awaited her at Pemberley. “I’ll see if I can recruit several of the other gentlemen. We’ll cut the branches while you supervise. I’m sure Padget and Horvak will want some exercise.” He started away to where the men sat playing cards.

“See if any of the gents be interested in some hunting,” Mrs. Washington said to Darcy’s back.

He turned to her. “Why is that necessary, Ma’am? Is there something we should know?”

“Well, Mr. Washington be unhappy with me mentioning it, but we didn’t plan for so many guests for the days before Christmas. Supplies be getting’ a bit low. Feeding ten folks, yer help, plus our workers and arn selves takes a bit of doing.”

“I will ask,” Darcy assured her. “Are there guns available if anyone is interested?”

“I sees to it, Mr. Darcy.”



“Lady Catherine!” Mr. Nathan blustered as he helped the woman with her cloak. “I was unaware of your arrival, Ma’am.”

Lady Catherine ignored Darcy’s servant. “Where is my niece? I must speak to Miss Darcy. Is there no one to greet me in this great house?”

A woman Her Ladyship didn’t recognize stepped into the hallway from the morning room. “May I be of assistance,Your Ladyship?”

Lady Catherine menacingly asked, “Who might you be, and why are you serving as hostess in my niece’s stead?”

Obviously disconcerted by her question, the woman flustered. “Bingley… I am Miss Bingley,” she stammered. “Charles Bingley, Mr. Darcy’s friend, is my brother. Charles and Mrs. Bingley have joined Miss Darcy in the nearby woods to gather greenery for the holiday decorations.”

“I see,” Lady Catherine scowled. Although she was well aware that the woman standing before her had once held aspirations of being Mrs. Darcy, Her Ladyship had never met Mr. Darcy’s friend. Normally, Lady Catherine would consider making the woman an ally in convincing Darcy to be civil during her intrusion; however, despite Miss Bingley’s social graces, Lady Catherine considered the woman below the current Mrs. Darcy. Miss Bingley may have more money and a better education than the former Elizabeth Bennet, but Mr. Bingley’s father had dealt in trade. Miss Bingley was a Cit! Disregarding the lady’s offer of assistance, Lady Catherine instructed Darcy’s staff. “Miss Anne and her companion shall require adjoining suites, and I shall have my usual chambers.”

“I have sent word to Mrs. Reynolds,Your Ladyship. Would you care to join Miss Bingley in the morning room?”

Lady Catherine glanced at where Miss Bingley waited patiently. “I think not, Mr. Nathan. We had an early breakfast at my brother Matlock’s. Some tea and biscuits shall be sufficient. Anne and I shall await Miss Darcy in the small drawing room.”

Mr. Nathan bowed obediently. “I will have someone see to the hearth and send a footman to find Miss Darcy.” He led the way to the room. “I will serve the tea myself, Ma’am.”



Kitty mischievously scooped a handful of snow into a tight ball. She hid her icy creation under her cloak’s flap and waited for Mr. Bingley to step away from Jane. She had thought to hit Mr. Grange, but neither Mary nor the gentleman possessed a sense of humor. “Look,” Kitty whispered to Georgiana. “Let’s see if Mr. Bingley can protect himself. You make one also, and we shall attack together.”

Georgiana smiled easily. Gathering the evergreen branches and holly had gone well. “Do you suppose it would anger Mr. Bingley?” Without waiting for an answer, Georgiana formed a ball from the line of snow sitting on the fence rail.

“Mr. Bingley?” Kitty chuckled. “As amiable as my sister’s husband is? Not likely.”

Georgiana giggled. “Then let’s have some enjoyment.”

Mr. Bingley bent to gather an armful of branches, but as he turned his back, two snowy spheres found his right shoulder. Plop! Splat!

Surprised, he turned to see Kitty and Georgiana hugging each other tightly while stifling bursts of laughter. “Ah!” he smiled widely. “So, that’s how it’s to be. A man labors to please a woman’s whims, and then she turns on him,” he taunted. As Bingley spoke, he dropped his stack of pine boughs on a horse blanket they had earlier spread on the ground, and then he armed himself. Playfully tossing the icy ball into the air, he teased, “You leave me no other choice, Sisters, but to defend myself.”

Jane Bingley stepped between the girls and her husband. “Kitty was just playing, Charles.”

“Oh, no, my wife,” he continued his banter, “our sisters have declared war.”

Kitty peered around her eldest sister. “No war, Mr. Bingley. Just men against women.”

Bingley’s hands flitted in large circles above his head. “Oh, woe! We are beset! Come along, Grange; you’re with me, as are you, Father Bennet.”

“Charles!” Jane warned.

“No reasoning permitted, Mrs. Bingley,” he mocked. “You’re now one of them.” To prove his point, Bingley lobbed his snowball in his wife’s direction.

Laughing, Jane attempted to return his attack, but her icy missile actually fell apart before it made contact.

Totally enjoying the play, Kitty and Georgiana hastily squeezed fist-sized snow sausages and flung them in the direction of the three men. Mary’s efforts were less stellar, but even she became caught up in the spontaneous fun.

“Sorry, Papa,” Kitty called as one of her efforts slid down her father’s neck and into his cravat.

“Careful with my wife,” Bingley cautioned the other men. “Remember she’s carrying my child.”

“Then my eldest shouldn’t put herself in the way of my best pitch.” Mr. Bennet purposely barreled a loosely packed snowball at Jane.

“Papa!” she protested, but returned a strong lob, landing a solid hit in the middle of his chest.

Laughter filled the frosty morning air. Soon, it was no longer men versus women. Each person fought everyone else, and cloaks and greatcoats were soon drenched in snow. Just as Mr. Bingley caught his wife and planned to dump her in a nearby snowdrift, the clearing of a deep voice brought them all up short.