Elizabeth leaned forward to assure more privacy. “Why would the lady not wish to label the man?”

“I do not suspect coercion,” Darcy confided. “Mrs. Jenkinson has served Anne faithfully for years, and has been my cousin’s closest confidante. I simply believe that Mrs. Jenkinson is, first and foremost, a servant. I fear the lady might not wish to be responsible for another servant meeting my wrath or possibly losing his position.”

“So you think that she might purposely not identify the culprit.”

Darcy frowned, never liking anything out of the ordinary in his life. “At this point, I am unsure what to believe. If I take Miss Donnel’s accident and combine it with all the other unexplained incidents of late, I am at my wit’s end.”

“Should we not share our concerns with the others?”

“Share what exactly?” Darcy stood to pace the room. “All we have are suspicions—a phantom footman or worker and some missing items. I would not wish to tarnish Pemberley’s reputation by spreading rumors of a disgruntled employee.”

Elizabeth watched him closely; she knew Darcy thought best when he was on the move. “Then we simply become more observant.”

“At the moment, I think that best.”


An hour later, the Pemberley party gathered on the south lawn. Darcy assigned two footmen to help. Each of the three male guests took on the duties of escorting the ladies down the hill. Elizabeth rode with Darcy, and so did his cousin Anne. Mr. Worth squired Mrs.Williams and Mrs. Jenkinson. The fact that Lord Stafford took Georgiana by the arm caused Darcy to bristle, but Elizabeth pulled him to one side, assuring him that the man’s innocent attention would bolster Georgiana’s confidence. The viscount knew Darcy’s’s expectations, Elizabeth explained. And as a gentleman, she continued, His Lordship would not offend Georgiana’s sensibilities. Darcy also felt some qualms about his sister sharing the sled with Lydia Wickham. He did not wish to remind Georgiana of George Wickham’s betrayal, but again Elizabeth saw the advantage of the situation. “Georgiana must face her mistakes and grow from them,” she told him. Reluctantly, he saw the logic in what his wife said, but that did not make it any easier to accept.

Repeatedly, the gentlemen climbed the slopes, tugging the sleds behind them. The footmen helped the ladies settle onto the wooden runners. For Adam Lawrence, the innocence of Georgiana Darcy fascinated him. Some man would eventually earn her love and her devotion and be a very lucky man. He could have done without the clinging Mrs. Wickham. The woman wrapped herself around him when they sped down the hill. He enjoyed physically peeling her fingers from his arm and waist.

Mr. Worth respectfully accompanied the two older women. He found Mrs. Jenkinson charming, for although the woman had earlier declared herself too old to participate in the winter fun, she embraced the experience with an unexpected enthusiasm: She shrieked and giggled like a girl enjoying her first outing. Mrs.Williams, obviously more frightened than Mrs. Jenkinson, closed her eyes tightly and said a prayer as the sled hurtled toward the flat land.

Darcy placed Elizabeth in front of him, spooning her body with his and allowing her to help him steer the sled. He nuzzled her neck while he pulled the ropes to turn the sled as it zoomed to the bottom of the hill. Elizabeth screeched her delight, leaning into him and plastering her back to his chest. “That was magnificent, Fitzwilliam!” she squealed as she scrambled to her feet.

He brushed the snow from her. “Indeed, it was.” He caught her hand to lead her to the top of the slope again. “Are you ready, Cousin?” he asked as he set the sled for his next descent.

“I have not done anything like this since we were children, Fitzwilliam,” she confessed.

“It is time you lived again, Anne.”

She hesitated for only a moment and then seated herself behind him on the slick wood. “I am ready, Fitzwilliam, to be that girl again.”

“Then hold tight, Cousin. I mean to give you the ride of your life.” The footman gave the sled a mighty shove, and they were off, the trees a blur as they sped by them. Darcy listened for Anne’s scream, but it never came. Instead, she sang a note of joy—laughter exploding from her. He found that he liked the sound. If Lieutenant Harwood had given Anne the courage to laugh again, the man had earned a measure of Darcy’s respect.

When he helped her from the snow bank, along which they had skidded to a stop, Darcy leaned down to tell her,“You should laugh more, Cousin:You are beautiful when you do.”

“Thank you, Fitzwilliam. Today, surprisingly, I feel beautiful.”

Once, two sleds raced to the bottom. Darcy and Elizabeth won, just barely edging out the viscount and Georgiana. “That was so close,” Stafford asserted. “If it had been my servants helping to shove off instead of yours, Darcy, I believe the results might have been different.”

Darcy laughed heartily. “Maybe so, Stafford—maybe so.”

As the men returned to the hill, Elizabeth and Georgiana waited for Mrs.Williams and Mr.Worth to reach them.“Is this not great fun?” Elizabeth called as Worth helped the widow to dismount the wooden sled.

“Great fun!” he yelled back genially.“It has been too long since I have done anything so impetuous.”

Mrs.Williams motioned him on.“I wish to speak to Mrs. Darcy a moment.”

Worth turned to the hill and the climb once more.

“Mrs. Darcy,” the woman said as she caught Elizabeth’s arm. “I have a problem.” She glanced around to assure their privacy. “My petticoat, ma’am.The bottom of it has come loose. I caught it on the runner’s edge. I cannot go about with a lace ruffle hanging below my skirt. Do you have a suggestion? Should I return to the house?”

Elizabeth glanced down at the offending garment.“Is it just the lace ruffle?”

“I believe so.”

“Can you simply pull it free?

“I do not see why not.”

“Then how about the storage shed? No one will notice, and you can slip in there and free the ruffle before it becomes entirely unraveled.”

“I would be mortified if that happened.”

Elizabeth motioned to Georgiana to precede her on the climb. “Do you need my assistance?”

The woman glanced toward the small outbuilding. “As long as the door is unlocked, I can manage. If you go with me, it will bring more notice. Just tell Mr. Worth that I needed to catch my breath for a moment; he will not worry so much then.”

“I will do just that.”


Thirty minutes later, they all gathered at the bottom of the slope, shivering, but none of them willing to give up the camaraderie. When Elizabeth scooped up a handful of snow and struck Darcy on the shoulder with it, a melee broke out. Soft snowballs struck them all as a mist of snow filled the air, a splatter of white on a brown and green background. “Enough!” Elizabeth ordered as Darcy picked her up by the waist, threatening to dump her in a snow bank.

Deep baritone laughter and soft soprano giggles indicated everyone’s enjoyment. Lydia Wickham suggested a snowman. Again, teams formed, and they rolled small snowballs over and over, the frozen spheres collecting volume and becoming crude circular masses.

Bases fully formed, the men sat about stacking the globes one on top of another, while the women began to search for branches and nuts to use for decoration.

“Mildred, what are you doing?” Anne said as she came sauntering over.

After breaking an icicle from an overhead branch, the older woman began to suck on the frozen stick.“Have you never enjoyed an ice treat, Miss Anne?”

“Of course, she has,” Darcy called as he straightened from lifting the mass to the second level. “Only my cousin prefers her icicles flavored.”

Georgiana bubbled, “I love flavored ice, too. May we add some flavors, Fitzwilliam?”

Always one to indulge his sister, Darcy sent Lucas to ask Mrs. Jennings to send out some oils of cinnamon and clove and licorice. When the footman returned with the oils, he also brought a small bowl of crushed walnuts and some plum preserves and some loose sugar. Everyone gathered around the tray the man held, each with his own tasty icicle.

“Try this.” Darcy placed two drops of licorice on Elizabeth’s frosty rod.

She let the licorice roll down the short stick, turning it to leave a trail of intense flavor in the ice before placing the coldness to her tongue. “Mmm!” she said in approval.

“This is delicious.” Mildred Jenkinson followed Anne’s lead and spread plum preserves on the side of her frosty rod.

“I knew that you would love it,” Anne teased her companion.

“Here are a few smaller ones,” Mrs. Williams handed out the ones she had gathered.

“This one has sugar already on it.”

“Yes, I thought to use the sugar, but I can fix another one.”

“Are you certain?”

“Oh, my heavens, yes. One or two of these are more than enough for me,” the widow shared.“I prefer my treats warm, in fact.”

“Hot tea sounds heavenly right now,” Lydia declared.

Adam Lawrence slapped his hands to shake off the snow.“Let us finish this snowman and then get everyone inside.”

With a renewed effort, the men lifted and supported the three stacking globes as Elizabeth, Anne, Lydia, and Georgiana smoothed and shaped their creation. However, Mrs.Williams helped Mrs. Jenkinson to indulge in one more frozen treat before Lucas returned the flavorings to the house.

Georgiana found a branch with five pointed twigs to represent the snowman’s fingers. “I think I am as cold as you, sir,” she said to the snowman as she shoved the branch into the side of the middle ball.

“Why do you not return to the house?” Darcy suggested.

“No, I would like to stay, Fitzwilliam,” she whispered.“I want to be a part of the group.”

He argued, “But you could ask Mrs. Jennings to prepare hot cider for everyone.” Elizabeth squeezed his hand in a tender warning to listen to his sister and not exert his will over her each time.

Georgiana swallowed uncomfortably, her throat working up and down, but she stood her ground. “Please, Fitzwilliam. It is important to me.”

Darcy bit back the words, trying to trust Elizabeth—they had on more than one occasion discussed his tendency to be overprotective of his sister. He had served as Georgiana’s guardian for the past seven years—after their father’s passing. He was as much father as brother. “Very well, my Dear,” he whispered softly.

Lydia interrupted, “Well, I will ask Mrs. Jennings for the hot cider.” She made her way to the house.

“What do you think?” Anne asked the group.They all turned to look at their snowy embodiment of a man.

“He looks formidable.” Mr. Worth shook the snow from his coat. A chorus of agreement followed.

“I suggest we partake of hot cider.” Darcy ushered everyone toward the house.

Anne caught Mildred around the waist.The woman still sucked on a flavored ice. “Thank you for coming out with me today. I felt young and hopeful. I know that sound ridiculous, but I have spent a lifetime nearly empty of feelings.This was all new to me.”

“You, my Girl, must never return to being that person,” Mildred said. She spoke unusually candidly. “You are too precious to suffer so. It is not necessary for you to completely defy Her Ladyship, but do not let your mother define you. Be Anne de Bourgh in all her glory.”

Chapter 7

Shedding their snow-covered outerwear in a small room off the kitchen, the group made their way to the blue drawing room. Mr. Baldwin had built a roaring fire in the hearth, and the cozy sitting room offered the warmth they all desperately sought.

“Ah, this is perfect,” Mrs.Williams commented as she took one of the arranged cups of heated apple cider and headed for a chair near the fireplace.

“Oh yes,” Lydia Wickham asserted, spreading her fingers around her cup of hot liquid.

Each took comfort in the steaming brew. “This is excellent cider,” Mr.Worth declared.

“You should send a cup up to Miss Donnel, Lord Stafford.”

Adam ignored Mrs. Wickham’s suggestion, pretending not to hear her as he walked toward the bay windows.

Anne laughed lightly. “The rest of us are devouring the spicy mixture, and Mildred still partakes of her icicle. Are you not cold, Mildred?” Everyone’s attention fell on the older woman.

“It is cold,” she admitted, “but it is so refreshing.” The lady slid the last inch of the stick into her mouth.