Her father regarded William seriously. Perhaps he was not yet ready to give his blessing for their engagement, but he was closer.
“Perhaps Miss Bennet could use a cup of tea?” William suggested. Elizabeth smiled gratefully at him.
Everything was quickly arranged. Beckett was set to the task of rousing Mr. Wickham and throwing him out on the street. As they strolled back toward the house—Elizabeth on William’s arm—Uncle Gardiner asked how William had happened to be in their garden.
“I had arrived for a visit, and Shaw showed me to the drawing room, which was empty,” William explained. “As you know, it has a rather nice view of the back garden—and I could see Elizabeth with Wickham. I did not know he would try to kiss her, but I did know she should not be alone with him.”
Her father had the grace to look guilty.
William continued, “By the time I arrived out here, she was struggling with him, and…well, I struck him.”
“Were you calling to visit Lizzy?” Aunt Gardiner inquired, still white-faced over the events of the day.
“Yes, and to extend an invitation,” William said. “Georgiana and I were hoping you would all join us for festivities and dinner on Christmas Day.”
Elizabeth’s eyes lit up at this exciting prospect, but she said nothing; it was not for her to accept or decline the invitation. Her aunt looked regretful. “I thank you, Mr. Darcy. That is quite a generous offer, but I do not like to leave my children on Christmas.”
“I had hoped they would accompany you,” William said. “Children make the holidays more festive, and Georgiana would love to see your little ones again.”
Aunt Gardiner’s expression brightened, and she exchanged looks with her husband, who nodded. “Then it would be our pleasure,” she exclaimed.
“Will you be having other guests?” Uncle Gardiner asked.
William shook his head. “Colonel Fitzwilliam will be there, of course, but nobody else. I had originally invited the Bingley family, but Bingley left town on business and is not expected back until after the holiday.”
Her uncle nodded, glancing sidelong at her father. “I would be pleased to accept,” Mr. Bennet said, “upon one condition.” William raised an eyebrow in inquiry. “If you would show me your library. I have heard it is very fine.”
William smiled. “It would be my pleasure.”
With one hand on William’s arm, Elizabeth settled her other hand on her father’s arm. “Then it is all settled. We shall celebrate Christmas at Darcy House.”
Chapter Thirteen
Naturally, Darcy House was very grand. The front hall soared—two stories in height—and was dominated by a grand staircase clad all in marble. Swags of pine boughs and garlands of ivy and holly decorated the walls and banister. Every candle was lit, making the room glow with warm, yellow light.
Elizabeth was pleased she had worn her most elegant day dress, dark green velvet with white lace trim, but it still felt shabby compared to the grandeur of Darcy House.
The welcome Elizabeth and her family received was anything but shabby, however. Miss Darcy was shy with the adults but overjoyed to see the children again. They danced around her as she distributed sweets. Colonel Fitzwilliam was jovial and welcoming. And Mr. Darcy…
When Elizabeth walked through the door, his eyes lit with a warmth to rival the grandest Yule fire. He said little to her but placed a tender kiss on her cheek, much to her father’s consternation.
The visitors were ushered into a very large drawing room, elegantly decorated in blue silk. There was an enormous fire in the hearth, blazing steadily, fueled by what looked like half a tree.
Aunt Gardiner exclaimed, clapping her hands together, “Oh, a true Yule log! So few houses nowadays have a fireplace big enough.”
“Did you really keep it going all night?” Elizabeth’s young cousin Harry asked.
Mr. Darcy’s eyes twinkled as he nodded solemnly to the boy. “Indeed, we did. Georgiana lit it with a piece of last year’s log last night, and it blazed strong through the night. We paid one of the kitchen boys a little extra to make sure it did not go out.”
Harry’s mouth formed a perfect “o” as he watched the fire.
“And we have a real plum pudding, too!” Miss Darcy exclaimed. Several of the children clapped their hands.
One of the maids entered and proceeded to serve wassail to the adults while the children received apple cider.
“And now,” William announced, “it is time for the gift giving.”
Elizabeth’s hand flew to her mouth. “But we have brought nothing for you!” she cried. The Gardiners’ tradition was to give presents only to their children on Christmas morning before attending church. Nobody had thought to bring gifts for the adults at Darcy House.
William noticed her expression. “Do not be alarmed. Georgiana and I wanted to give you each something since we are so grateful to have friends here to celebrate Christmas. With the exception of Richard, the rest of our family is in the countryside.”
Miss Darcy nodded vigorously. “Your presence is making it so much more festive. And I love to give gifts—especially to children!”
William smiled at his sister. “What Georgiana means is that she loves to shop.” She laughed.
Somewhat mollified, Elizabeth took a seat and enjoyed the sight of her young cousins receiving their toys, each carefully wrapped in brown paper. Miss Darcy knew the names and ages of each Gardiner child—an impressive feat considering the size of the brood. The girls received dolls and miniature tea sets while the younger boys were thrilled with lead soldiers. Harry, the oldest, loved his toy sword.
The children were so happy, and the Darcys regarded the fruits of their gift giving with such satisfaction, that Elizabeth had to blink back tears. Although Miss Darcy had obviously been responsible for the purchases, William was equally delighted as he observed the children’s reactions to each gift. He would make a good father someday.
Elizabeth had stopped chastising herself for such thoughts. It was pointless.
The gifts continued to flow. Aunt Gardiner received a beautiful silk scarf. Uncle Gardiner crowed over a bottle of French brandy. Elizabeth’s father seemed quite pleased with a book of poetry that William had chosen just for him.
Perhaps William had deliberately kept Elizabeth’s present for last. He smiled shyly as he handed her a small velvet bag. The size suggested that it was jewelry; perhaps a necklace or ear bobs? Elizabeth’s stomach churned. She loved pretty jewelry and had so little, but was it proper to accept a gift from Mr. Darcy? She had given him no answer to his proposal, although at that moment she found herself wondering why in the world she had delayed.
“This is from me and Georgiana,” he said solemnly as he placed the little bag on Elizabeth’s palm. Clever William. Elizabeth would have fewer reservations about accepting a present from his sister.
She opened the drawstring and upended the bag. A ring tumbled onto her palm. “Oh!” It was designed in an old-fashioned style and contained a single beautiful diamond. A diamond!
“Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth exclaimed, “I cannot possibly accept this! It is far too grand.” It must be a family heirloom.
He exchanged a glance and a smile with his sister. “I told you she would object,” he said. Then he regarded Elizabeth more solemnly. “It was my mother’s, but Georgiana and I both want you to have it. This is the ring my father gave my mother upon their first wedding anniversary.”
Elizabeth held it out to Miss Darcy. “Then you should have it.”
She shook her head. “I shall wear my mother’s wedding ring when I marry. I do not want or need that one.”
“It is too much!” Elizabeth exclaimed, although her eyes could not help being drawn to the sparkling diamond. She had never expected to own such a grand piece of jewelry in her life.
Taking her hand in his, Mr. Darcy curled her fingers around the ring in her palm. “No. It is just enough. Even if we do not wed, it is the ring you were born to w
ear.”
Sighing in resignation, Elizabeth slipped the ring on her finger—where it fitted perfectly. It was beautiful, but she silently vowed to return it if she and William did not wed.
Tea was served, and everyone enjoyed lemon and chocolate biscuits. Afterward, one of the maids took the children up to the little-used nursery where they could play with their toys or take naps. Miss Darcy watched them leave longingly.
“It is some time until dinner,” William said. “What shall we do for amusement?”
“Well, if we were at home…” Elizabeth started.
“Yes?” His eyes were alive with interest.
She exchanged a glance with her father, who had a smile on his face. “We would play charades.”
Miss Darcy clapped her hands together. “Can we, William? It has been so long since I played charades!”
The game provided nearly two hours of amusement. Elizabeth would not have expected the proper Mr. Darcy to enjoy the foolishness of such a game, but he threw himself into it with enthusiasm, particularly when he and the colonel competed to see who would win the most points. When the colonel emerged victorious, William was a gracious loser.
Everyone was exhausted from excessive laughter; however, Darcy prevailed upon Georgiana to play some Christmas tunes on the pianoforte. Next Elizabeth played and sang some of her favorites. Mr. Darcy watched her play with a studied intensity one did not usually apply to Christmas music.
The butler entered and announced, “Dinner is served.”
Miss Darcy led the way to the dining room, but William held Elizabeth’s arm, preventing her from joining the others. “I hope you are enjoying yourself?” he asked.
“Immensely.”
“Good. I do not believe I have laughed so much on a Christmas day since…my parents died.”
“I must thank you for the gifts, although I believe they are too much.”
He shook his head. “You and your family have brought us much more valuable gifts, I assure you.”
She smiled and turned toward the dining room, but yet again he held her arm. When she glanced back with a fondly exasperated expression, he pointed upward.
There was mistletoe hanging in the doorway. But… “All of the berries are gone, sir,” she observed with a pert smile. “You must await your kiss until next year.”
He grinned wickedly and held up his hand, where he was holding a berry between his thumb and forefinger. “I am prepared.”
Elizabeth’s suspicions were triggered. “Where are the other berries, sir?” she asked with narrowed eyes.
Sheepishly, William dug into his pocket again and produced a handful of berries. “An excuse to kiss you should never be wasted,” he said with rakish grin.
She peered at the berries in his hand. “You plan on a great many excuses, do you not?”
“Indeed, so it is best if we begin at once.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes with a smile. “Very well.”
She leaned forward, intending to give him a little kiss on the mouth. However, Mr. Darcy had other ideas. Gripping her shoulders, he attacked her mouth with vigor, kissing her with the pent-up need of two days without her. No less eager, Elizabeth clutched the front of his waistcoat, meeting his ardor with her own. When he finally released her, Elizabeth was more than a little dizzy.
“Marry me, Elizabeth,” he whispered in her ear, his breath tickling her neck.
It was very tempting to say yes, but what if her reaction to him was mere physical attraction? He was a handsome man—and certainly his wealth was tempting. But what of her heart? Amidst this onslaught of sensation, how could she know which were her true feelings?
Over the preceding days, the abrupt changes in her opinion of him had been dizzying. She knew some of her opinions about William had been wrong, but perhaps some had been correct. He was charming now, but would he revert to cold and distant once he had won her hand? And if she agreed at this moment, would he believe it was gratitude for the gift of the ring?
Elizabeth’s stomach churned queasily. How would she sort through these contradictory feelings? How could she discern which were real?
William watched her expectantly. “I cannot yet give you an answer,” she murmured into his neck.
He sighed, his shoulders drooping. “Well, that is not a no.”
“No. I am not rejecting you.”
He gave her a pained smile. “We should join the others at the table.”
***
Darcy had been hoping he could announce their engagement at Christmas dinner, but he also feared that he had pushed Elizabeth too hard and too fast. This was not a matter in which he could afford to appear high-handed.
He ground his teeth as they joined the rest of the party at the dining table. Courting Elizabeth had strained all his patience, and the master of Pemberley was not accustomed to waiting for what he wanted. Darcy took a deep breath, reminding himself that she was worth waiting for. He would simply have to dig deeper and find even more stores of patience…somewhere.
The dining table was ablaze with candles, and more illumination shone from the chandelier, which was adorned with mistletoe. The table almost groaned under the weight of the food: potatoes, leeks, mince pie, jellies, turkey, mutton, venison, and more. Darcy’s cook had outdone herself; he did not know how they would eat even a fraction of it.
After prayers of thankfulness, Darcy led his guests in a toast to the festivities of the Christmas season. He was heartened by the expressions on the faces around the table. Although Mr. Bennet still regarded Darcy cautiously, his eyes no longer narrowed suspiciously at every one of his utterances. And the Gardiners seemed disposed to rather like their host. The children—who were eating their dinner in the nursery—appeared to be having a wonderful time, and Georgiana loved seeing them.
Conversation at dinner was convivial. The game of charades had eased some of the formality among relative strangers. The Darcys, Bennets, and Gardiners—as well as one Fitzwilliam— were talking with great animation. Darcy rarely hosted dinners at his house, and it was almost always for close relatives. Not naturally of a sociable disposition, he had never before hosted a big Christmas gathering. But the experience was unexpectedly enjoyable, and he found himself hoping for another such gathering. Darcy allowed his mind to wander, imagining future Christmases with Elizabeth by his side—perhaps with their own little ones receiving presents and sitting in Aunt Georgiana’s lap.
Hopefully nobody noticed his little sigh of pleasure.
Hopefully Elizabeth would accept his proposal so that future might become a reality.
Darcy was startled from his reverie by a knock at the front door. Who could possibly be arriving at this hour—on Christmas day? Conversation around the table died down as everyone looked around in puzzlement.
Finally, Bates, the butler, entered the room. His face was a blank mask, but Darcy knew him well enough to recognize disapproval. “Miss Bingley is here, sir,” he announced.
“Miss Bingley?” Darcy’s voice actually squeaked in surprise.
“She said you invited her family for Christmas dinner, but she is the only one who could attend.”
Damnation! She was presuming on the long-ago invitation. “I had invited the Bingleys, but with Mr. Bingley out of town, I assumed they had made other arrangements.” More the fool he. Arriving alone and without confirming the invitation was highly irregular. But, of course, Caroline Bingley would take any opportunity to presume upon their friendship. Now that she was at Darcy House, he could not turn her away without appearing churlish.
Darcy nodded to Bates. “Please show her in and have Hillerman set another place at the table.” Fortunately, the table seated twenty people easily. If only I could have Hillerman put her all the way at the other end…
Miss Bingley swept into the room triumphantly, a vision in orange satin with red feathers adorning her hair. Everyone stood to acknowledge her; bows and curtsies were exchanged.
She surveyed the assembled guests wit
h disdain but evinced no surprise at the guest list. Somehow she had known who would be attending dinner at Darcy House. What was her game? “A thousand apologies for my tardiness!” she trilled as she sat. “It was very clever of you to start without me, or the food might have grown cold.”
A headache—the same headache Miss Bingley always provoked—began to form at the back of Darcy’s neck. Hillerman served Miss Bingley. As she ate, a somewhat stilted conversation resumed. At the head of the table, Darcy was far enough from Miss Bingley that he could not hear what she said. Her conversation was rarely worth hearing, but he worried she might spew vitriol at Elizabeth.
During a lull in the conversation, Miss Bingley directed her words to Darcy. “It is very good of you to invite the Bennet family for dinner.” Her voice dripped with condescension as if the Bennets were foundlings from an orphan home whom Darcy had taken in for the night.
Darcy did not know how to respond to such an odd compliment, so he said nothing.
“I would not have expected it of you,” she continued after a pause.
“Why not?” Darcy arched a brow at her.
She shrugged, spearing a potato on her fork, affecting unconcern. “You expressed such distress about the family when Charles was in Netherfield. Why, you were the one who convinced him of the desirability of separating himself from the family! I would not have expected you to seek out such a connection.”
Darcy had fallen neatly into her trap.
It did not matter that she exaggerated his role in their removal from Netherfield. The substance of the accusation was correct. Never before had Darcy harbored quite so many regrets about the man he had been in Hertfordshire.
Everyone stared at Darcy, dumbfounded. Bennet’s face was turning red, as if he would explode at any moment, while all color had drained from Elizabeth’s face. “You convinced Mr. Bingley to leave Hertfordshire and abandon Jane?” she asked.
What could he possibly say?
Chapter Fourteen
William stared at Elizabeth, ashen-faced. “Yes…” he said slowly. “Mrs. Hurst, Miss Bingley, and I all spoke with Bingley about—”
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