by Maria Grace
A broad smile lit her face, and she laughed with every part of her being. “And that is your irresistible quality?”
“Can you deny that you find it appealing?” He flashed his eyebrows.
“Not nearly as appealing as so many other things about you.” She pressed her hand to his cheek and leaned close to whisper, “But you are right, that might be the deciding factor.”
He doubled over, the laughter welling in his belly too much to contain. There would indeed never be a dull moment with her. “Then you accept my offer?”
Her eyes shimmered, but this time there was joy in them. “I do.”
Slowly, carefully, he cupped her face in his broad hands and pulled her to him. How warm and soft and welcoming her lips! She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed close, so very close.
“Have you any idea how tempting you are, woman?”
“I was hoping for that effect.”
“Minx, of course you were.” He kissed her again firmly. “And as tempting as it is, you cannot miss the ball in favor of other distractions. Pray, will you allow me to escort you?”
“Only if you promise to dance enough dances with me to make everyone wonder what is about.”
“On any other night I would, very happily. But it is Georgiana’s night, I cannot do that. Nothing should distract from her. I have promised her a set, but I will dance the supper set and the last set with you, and will dance with no one else tonight. Will that do?”
“I suppose it will have to. As long as those two—”
“Friends of Mrs. Darcy?”
“Yes, them.” Her nosed wrinkled as she sniffed, not unlike her mother’s. “As long as you do not dance with them, I shall be content.”
“And well-behaved?”
“I promise you shall have no reason to ask that of me ever again.”
He kissed her forehead. “Somehow I doubt that.”
“Vexing, contrary man.”
“Always, my dearest. Always.”
He escorted her downstairs, music wafting up the stairs from the ballroom. Had that conversation truly just happened? No approving crowd awaited their arrival. Somehow, after what had transpired, it seemed there should be. But it would be just as well. There would be plenty of attention when Aunt Catherine had her share of the conversation.
That probably should bother him. But it did not. Too many other pleasant feelings bubbled about within for there to be room for anything dismal or dreary.
“Elizabeth has turned the ballroom into a true fairyland,” Anne whispered. Something in her eyes suggested she felt the same as he.
“This night will be talked about for years to come.”
“I hope what you see meets your approval.” Elizabeth appeared behind them. “It is good to see you, Anne. I had feared, for a moment, you would not be joining us.”
“I feared the same thing for just a little while. But Fitzwilliam made me see things a little differently.” She winked at him saucily.
Elizabeth’s eyebrows rose high, and she glanced at Fitzwilliam. He grinned, obvious to be sure, but how was a newly betrothed man to behave?
“The musicians are excellent tonight. I look forward to dancing.” Anne peered into the dancers, probably looking for the ‘two ninnies’ as she called them.
“I hope you shall enjoy the bonfire just before dinner, as well.”
“Bonfire? I have never heard of such a thing.” Anne had the good grace to look surprised.
“Good.” Elizabeth smiled a little too broadly. It seemed she was enjoying the evening a very great deal already.
The musicians finished the set and the dancers faded off the floor. Moments later, servants appeared with trays of ices.
Anne disappeared for a moment and returned with two glasses. “Lemon. My favorite.” She handed him one.
Georgiana rushed up to them. “I am so glad to see you! I asked for lemon ices just for you! You are so beautiful—it came out just as we imagined. Your drawings have done so much to set the scene. I am so very glad you came!” She caught Anne’s free hand and squeezed it.
“Shall we have the next dance?” Fitzwilliam extended his hand.
“Oh, Fitzwilliam, I am so sorry, I know you asked for one, but I have promised every dance until dinner! Pray forgive me.”
“This is your night, my dear, I am hardly offended. Dancing with your old cousin is not nearly as appealing as dancing with any of the young men in attendance. Dance with whomever you like.” He patted her shoulder.
“Are you certain? I would not offend you for the world.”
“I know. Go off and enjoy yourself.”
“Thank you so much!” Georgiana was swept into a small group of young people and disappeared into the crowd.
He looked over his shoulder at Anne. “Shall we to the card room then, unless you seek to find another partner?”
“You cannot be rid of me so easily, sir. Will it be whist or commerce?”
“Whatever game you most prefer to lose.”
They played through several hands of cards, until the supper set formed, and he escorted her back to the ballroom.
How intoxicating it was to dance with a woman whose eyes were only for him. She held him locked in a gaze that was at the same time powerful and painfully intimate and demanded nothing less from him. If anyone truly looked at them and saw—it would be utterly scandalous.
But in the press of the ballroom, it was unlikely.
They stepped together, turned, circled back to back, never breaking that bond. Each step, each breath in rhythm, connected by an invisible cord that somehow had always connected them.
Yes, it had always been that way. They may not have known it, but was it too sentimental to say their hearts had? Perhaps it was, but it did not make it less true. The way her eyes glittered—she felt it, she knew it, too.
The dance ended, and Darcy stepped into the center of the room, Elizabeth on his arm. “It is eleven thirty. As you know all the Christmastide greenery must be taken down and burned by midnight. Everyone, take a bit of evergreen and follow us outside for a bonfire and carols before supper.”
Gasps and sounds of approval filled the room. That had never been done at Pemberley before. Was it something Elizabeth had done with her own family or was it something she and Darcy had contrived together? Whatever the reason, it was a delightful notion.
Darcy approached and leaned close. “Pray help everyone outside and direct the fire. I have a brief matter to attend to, and then I shall be there.”
“Is everything all right?”
Darcy glanced at the doorway where Elizabeth stood, obviously waiting for him. “There are a few matters she wishes to discuss regarding the rest of the evening. It will only be a few minutes.”
The look on Elizabeth’s face did not suggest it was that small a matter, but it did not suggest anything wrong, either. “Very well, I am happy to assist my gracious host.”
Darcy nodded and returned to his wife.
∞∞∞
Elizabeth took Darcy’s arm and they proceeded downstairs to the small parlor at the front of the house. She took a candle from the hallway and lit several in the room, just enough to see by.
“Is there something wrong?” Darcy asked, his brows knitting. The small knot in his stomach wound in on itself.
“That is what you always ask. Why must you first assume that there is something wrong?” She touched his cheek. “Not to worry. Everything is fine.”
“Then pray tell, if there is no crisis, why are we here, during the height of the ball?”
“I have a gift for you, one I have been waiting for some time to give to you.” Her eyes twinkled in the conundrum that was Elizabeth.
“And now is the right time?”
“It was only a few minutes ago that I became certain it was absolutely the right time. It is Twelfth Night after all.” She pressed her fingers to her lips and went to the chest of drawers in the corner. The top drawer was stuck, and she had to wr
estle it open to remove a small package wrapped in white linen. “Here, this will answer all your questions.”
The package was oddly shaped and lumpy, tied a bit awkwardly with a white ribbon. He untied it, and the linen fell away. “Where did you find this?” He held up the silver teething coral, its bells tinkling softly. He blew the whistle, its mellow sweet tone filled the small room. The family heirloom had been passed through at least three generations of Darcys, protecting them through that dangerous period of teething. It was said since its acquisition, no infant had died during that dreaded transition.
She looked at him, biting her lip.
“I have not seen this since Georgiana was a baby …” he dropped the teething coral and its linen wrapper. As it hit the floor, the fabric revealed its true shape—a daintily embroidered baby dress. “You are—”
“Yes. I have suspected for some time, but only felt the quickening as we danced just now.”
“So, then you are well? All the tiredness, all the days you have felt poorly—”
“I am assured they are perfectly normal for a woman in my condition.”
“Elizabeth!” He grabbed her by the waist and whirled her around. “Pray forgive me! I am sure I should not have done that.”
She laughed clutching his arm for balance, the sound much like the silver bells. “It is fine, I assure you. I take it you are pleased?”
“I can think of no finer gift this Twelfth Night than to know our family is about to increase. You have made me the happiest of men.”
“And I thought you already were.”
“Teasing woman.”
She might have replied, but it was exceedingly difficult when he was kissing her.
∞∞∞
Fitzwilliam threw the last of the evergreens on the bonfire and stepped back. He signaled the musicians who began to play
Hark the Herald Angels Sing. The crowd circling the bonfire joined voices in the familiar carol.
Beside him, Anne sang. Her voice was really quite sweet—sweeter than her disposition, which really was not a bad thing. Too much sweetness could drive a man to boredom. Life with her would be anything but.
The bonfire snapped and crackled behind them, surrounding her in a frame of orange flame.
“You look like a phoenix rising up out of the fire you know,” he whispered in her ear.
“In some ways, I think I am—we are both poised on an utterly new life.”
“You may just be right. Certainly nothing will ever be the same again, will it?”
“No, it will not. Who knew that there was something to creaming the well after all?” She turned to him, eyebrow arched; so impertinent.
“What are you talking about?”
“Have you forgotten? You were the one who drank the first water from the well that morning—the water that I drew.”
“So, you attribute my proposal to that?” He leaned in very close and whispered, “And not to the very real fact that I love you?”
She gasped and gazed directly into his eyes. “You should not say such things.”
“Why not, if they are true?”
“You have had too much punch.”
“You have been with me the whole evening. I have had no punch.” He took her hand, her long, cold fingers twining with his.
“You mean it?”
“I only hope that perhaps—”
She rose up on tiptoes, her breath tickling his ear. “I love you too, Fitzwilliam.”
“Woman, if we were not in the middle of a crowd, I would kiss you.” And he just might do so in any case—but for it being Georgiana’s night.
“We will not be in the midst of a crowd all night.”
“I am counting on that.”
∞∞∞
Late the following afternoon, Darcy, Elizabeth, Anne, and Fitzwilliam gathered in the small parlor. They had all been up until the very small hours and were only just now starting their day, still yawning and bleary-eyed. If Darcy had his druthers, they would have spent the whole day abed, but Fitzwilliam had said they all needed to talk. So here they were.
A nuncheon made up largely of food left from the ball had been set out on a low table in the center of a group of chairs. Elizabeth poured tea.
“Congratulations to you both, I cannot imagine happier news.” Fitzwilliam clapped Darcy’s shoulder.
Darcy leaned back in his chair, smiling. He had not been able to stop since Elizabeth’s gift last night.
“I cannot believe you kept your suspicions to yourself all this time.” Anne accepted a teacup from Elizabeth. “How ever did you remain so tight-lipped? I think I would have revealed everything from the first moment I suspected something.”
“This has been such a very eventful Christmastide, I hardly had time to breathe, much less think of a way to bring up the matter at all.” Elizabeth blushed.
Not to mention that she desperately wanted to avoid Aunt Catherine’s advice on the matter. That could motivate anyone to silence.
“It does explain all those things you have been fretting about though, Darcy. I am glad it is all explained so easily.” Fitzwilliam heaped a plate with Twelfth Night pies. As many as were left in the kitchen, they might well be eating them until spring.
“As am I.” Darcy leaned back and sipped his tea.
“I have some news as well.” Anne glanced at Fitzwilliam.
Something about that look in her eyes—Darcy nearly dropped his teacup.
Anne sniggered.
“Do relax, Darce.” Fitzwilliam uncrossed his legs and leaned forward.
“I will—once you have told me your news.” Darcy knotted his hand around the arm of his chair. Knowing the two of them, they might have decided to take up ballooning together or something even more outlandish.
“I never knew I held such power over you, cousin.”
“Stop teasing him, Anne. That is quite cruel.” Fitzwilliam chortled. “Last night, we came to an understanding. Anne and I are to be married.”
“Married?” Darcy nearly kicked the tea-table.
“I cannot say I am surprised.” Elizabeth stirred a spoonful of sugar into her tea. “All the signs have been there for quite some time. You have been the best of friends for years.”
“Do we have your support? Honestly, it does not matter if we do or do not, we shall marry. I would just prefer to have you behind us.” Fitzwilliam popped the last bite of his pie into his mouth.
“Just tell me, this is what you want? This is not to spite Aunt Catherine or—”
“No need to list out all your suspicions, I can assure you, none of them are true.” Fitzwilliam nodded at Anne who did likewise.
“And it is not just the impulse of the moment?”
“I am impulsive, I confess, but not that impulsive.” Anne laughed lightly—it was a pleasing sound now that the bitterness was gone from it. “I—we are entirely certain—”
“Of what are you certain? How can you possibly be certain of anything without consulting with me first?” Aunt Catherine swooped in, waiting behind Darcy until he brought a chair near the table for her. “I am glad you are all here. It is imperative that I speak with you all.”
Naturally, they had gathered here with absolutely nothing else in mind. Darcy pinched his temples.
“I do not like how you kept Anne to yourself last night, Fitzwilliam, that must stop immediately.” Aunt Catherine rapped her knuckles on the table, rattling the teacups. “We must all come together and establish a plan for introducing Anne into wider society.”
“No, I am not going to stop keeping her to myself.” Fitzwilliam paused, clearly enjoying the slack-jaw expression on Aunt Catherine’s face. “In fact, I intend to continue for the rest of my life.”
“What are you blathering about? Do be serious.”
“I am going to marry Anne.”
“What nonsense. Stop joking and do be serious.”
“I am entirely and completely serious.” Considering the edge that sharpened Fitzwilliam
’s voice, she would do well to listen, but it was unlikely she would.
“I forbid it. You know I have for years. You are not at all a suitable match for her. I will not have you.” She leaned back and crossed her arms as if that settled the matter.
“You do not have the right to make that decision, Mother.” Anne’s voice was soft and level—a little frightening in her severity.
“Whatever are you talking about? I am your mother. Of course, I have the right.”
“I am of age, and have been for some time, which I fear you have conveniently forgotten. It is my decision to make. You cannot stop me.”
“Yes I can, I am your mother.” Aunt Catherine rose slowly, like a kraken lingering from the previous night’s fairyland.
“You can repeat yourself all that you want, but it does not matter. I can marry whomever I want.”
“Darcy, tell her she cannot.”
“We support Fitzwilliam and Anne.”
“How can you do this to me?” Aunt Catherine’s voice turned shrill and a little desperate. Did she realize she would ultimately lose this battle?
“What have you to do with any of this? I am the one to be married, not you. I am very fond of Fitzwilliam and can think of no one who will suit me better.”
“And we agree with her.” Elizabeth’s tone was deceptively mild.
Aunt Catherine marched to Elizabeth, shouting over her, “Of course you would—you made out well for yourself pursuing an unsuitable match. You had no right to set your sights on Darcy, and now your vulgar influence is spreading to the rest of the family.”
“Enough!” Darcy sprang to his feet, towering over Aunt Catherine.
Fitzwilliam jumped between them. “Do not get in the middle of this. This is my fight and I would thank you to keep your offense to yourself.” He pushed Darcy back a step. “You think I am taking advantage of Anne?”
“Of course, you are? What is your fortune?”
“You may want to reconsider disparaging the man who will be determining your style of living for the rest of your days, Lady Catherine.” Elizabeth took a dainty bite from a Twelfth Night pie, not even looking up at the dispute swirling above her.