Christmas at Pemberley (20 page)

“Reportedly over thirty tons.”

“And the speed?” Manneville inquired.

“Between four and five miles per hour. It's my understanding that the man was working on another geared locomotive, which he's named
Bülcher
.”

Edward asked, “After the Prussian commander?”

Bingley laughed lightly. “I wondered if it was a metaphorical remark on the gentleman's fighting style.”

Lady Catherine's disapproval showed when she said, “I cannot imagine a titled gentleman soiling his hands with such matters.”

Her remark struck a blow to Georgiana's enthusiasm, and Edward wouldn't have it. He had been enjoying the sparkle in his cousin's eyes and her complexion's brightness. He'd found a different Georgiana upon his return to his homeland. His cousin had transformed into a beguiling young lady. Therefore, he directed a subtle set down in his aunt's direction. “Yet, it was my understanding that both Sir Thomas Liddle and Lord Strathmore were financial partners in the endeavor.”

Ignoring Lady Catherine's glare, Manneville said, “Your reports of Mr. Stephenson's efforts parallel what Oliver Evans has been doing in America. As a young man in Philadelphia, I was among the crowd gathered on the riverfront to view Evans's
Oruktor Amphibolos
. Evans designed the machine to dredge and clean the city's docks.Yet, he failed to convince the Lancaster Turnpike Company to allow him to replace their six-horse Conestoga wagons with his steam engine.”

“Do you suggest the Americans can outdo the British in this matter?” Southland challenged. “Even your famous Robert Fulton's
Clermont
used British components for its engine.”

Quietly self-assured, Manneville responded, “Have we returned to that old issue, Southland? I've no particular allegiance to either side in this maddening separation. I'm loyal to South Carolina and to the people who depend on my plantation for their daily survival.” He held the lieutenant's gaze before adding, “John Stevens's
Phoenix
was a superior machine, and it was made of inferior American parts—so inferior, in fact, it was the first to navigate an ocean voyage.”

Edward laughed, “He has you there, Southland.” He gave his aide a warning look. It seemed that there was a constant competition between the two.

“Well, I know one idea that is purely British,” Georgiana interjected. With pleasure, Edward returned to his study of her beautiful face. Her eyes widened, and a warm feeling spread through the colonel's chest. “You Americans cannot build a tunnel under the Thames, Mr. Manneville.”

A collective gasp passed among those at the table. “A tunnel beneath the Thames?” Miss Bingley asked incredulously. “Whatever for?”

“To be fair, Caroline,” Bingley began, “such a passage would make trade more efficient on both sides of the river.”

“Did they not try something similar between Tilbury and Gra-vesend in '99?” Mr. Bennet asked.

“And between Rotherhithe and Wapping some five years ago?” Southland added.

“But have you not heard?” Georgiana ignored both men's questions. She glowed with this new attention, and Edward felt his breathing tighten. “Mr. Marc Brunel's proposed a tunnel under the river Neva in St. Petersburg. Think of the possibilities. Would it not be wonderful?”

Edward's gaze held Georgiana's. “If you find the concept fascinating, I embrace the possibilities also.”

“I have never heard of such folly,” Lady Catherine declared.

“Maybe not so foolish, Aunt. It's rumored that the Duke of
Wellington is considering investing in the project if Brunel can be brought on board,” Georgiana countered.

Lady Catherine snorted derisively. “The Duke should know better. My estimation of His Grace's intelligence is in question.”

His voice distant and devoid of all expression, Edward turned the conversation. “I'll not criticize the Duke on or off the battlefield. We've monopolized the conversation long enough. I believe it's time to think more on Pemberley's Christmastide celebration. Please tell me, Cousin, that Darcy will host his annual Boxing Day Tenants' Ball.”

“It is far from a ball,” Lady Catherine declared.

“A matter of semantics, Your Ladyship,” Edward responded blandly. He was well aware that Lady Catherine liked to stir up emotions. The best defense remained to not rise to his aunt's censure. “I prefer Darcy's foray to some of the Season's finer offerings. None of that silly ritual of dance cards and only being able to dance with a lady twice. Nor are there any manipulating mamas trying to shove some debutante into a man's arms.”

“Mr. Darcy treats his cottagers well,” Winkler remarked with authority. “They sing his praises freely.”

Edward smiled reassuringly. “We'll await your commands, Cousin. I'm at your exclusive disposal in settling the event's details. Hopefully, Darcy's coach will make an appearance by this evening.”

“I shall ask Mrs. Reynolds to meet with us, Colonel,” Georgiana said sweetly. “We shall discover what the good lady has planned and share it with the others.”

Edward's heart flipped. She had masterfully handled what could have been a stressful meal. Between the two of them, they had fended off their aunt, and Georgiana had shown great maturity in how she conversed with the other men and how she commanded their respect. He saw no other woman at the table able to do so. It was an astounding discovery for a man accustomed to commanding his own deference.

“What do you mean? The baby's coming?” Dread shook Elizabeth's core. “It's too early,” she protested. “You cannot have this child now…in this inn…there's no doctor or midwife.”

With white knuckles, Mrs. Joseph grasped the chair arm. “Despite all that, I am quite certain this child is making an appearance today,” she rasped.

Elizabeth took several deep breaths to steady her composure. Kneeling before the woman, she reached for Mrs. Joseph's hand. “Do not worry,” she managed as she softened her expression. “We can do this together.”

Mrs. Joseph smiled weakly. “Of course, we can. That's why God brought us both to this inn at this time. I need someone with sagacity, and God has given me you.”

Elizabeth teared with the woman's words. She didn't believe herself capable of delivering Mrs. Joseph's child, and she certainly didn't think herself part of God's plan for this woman; yet, she said, “It's the Christmas season, and if a child can be blessed by God at any time of the year, it's now. Let me aid your change of clothes, and then we'll get you straight to bed. Then I'll seek out Mrs. Washington's help. We'll need extra linens, and I'll require the good lady's assistance.”

Mrs. Joseph stood on shaky legs. “I need to tell Matthew.”

“First, the clothes and then to bed,” Elizabeth said as she supported the woman's weight. “After that, I'll find Mr. Joseph and send him to you.”

“I apologize, Mrs. Darcy.You certainly never expected to forfeit your bed when you extended your benevolence to my family.”

Elizabeth began to unlace the back of Mrs. Joseph's gown. “Mr. Darcy and I shall adapt; your child's safety is paramount. Fitzwilliam will agree, Mrs. Joseph.”

“I believe under the circumstances that you should call me Mary,” the woman said. “Mrs. Joseph seems so formal for what lies ahead.”

Elizabeth smiled through a false confidence. “Then I am Elizabeth.”

Georgiana had left Kitty in charge of hanging mistletoe in the downstairs rooms and had sent Mr. Bennet, Mr. Grange, Mary Bennet, and Jane Bingley to oversee the decoration of the barn for the Tenants' Ball. Finally alone, she sneaked into her brother's study and closed the door for a few minutes of silence. She needed time to hear herself think and to relive what Edward had said earlier. He'd referred to her as “my girl,” and he'd deflected their aunt's criticisms. It felt wonderful to have Edward's recognition. With a shove, she waltzed across the room, an imaginary partner twirling her with wild abandon. In her mind, Edward's arm tightened about her as she smiled up at him.
It could happen
, she thought. Edward could finally find her appealing.

“Very nice, my dear,” a deep voice said from a darkened corner, and Georgiana stumbled to a halt.

“Oh, my,” she gasped. Straightening her gown's lines, Georgiana pinked. “I didn't realize you were here. No one,” she stammered, “no one was to see my girlish display.”

The colonel stepped from the shadows. “I should've said something when you first entered. I apologize if my presence alarmed you, Georgiana; however, I'll selfishly admit that I enjoyed watching you and wouldn't have missed it for a sultan's riches.Your face glowed with the purest joy.”

Georgiana dropped her eyes. “I allowed my feminine side to overcome my good reason.”

Edward now stood before her. Gently, he cupped her chin and raised it. “I'll not permit your self-censure. I've never seen you more beautiful, Georgiana. From the moment I beheld you on Pemberley's steps, I've been astonished by the changes in you. I admit to having difficulty accepting how much your transformation offers: I'm your guardian, but I wish I was nothing more than an ordinary man.”

Innocently, she asked, “Can you not be both, Edward?”

“I'm not certain,” he whispered huskily. “It would seem I must decide what role I wish to play.”

“Would you dance with me?” Georgiana's gaze traced his face's lines.

Edward smiled easily. “I can think of nothing I'd enjoy more.” Sliding his arm about her waist, he edged Georgiana into his embrace.

Their eyes never left one another. “We have no music,” she whispered.

“We'll make our own.” Edward stepped into the dance by bringing Georgiana next to him. They ignored the required distance between them. Instead, their bodies flowed about the small open area.

Edward concentrated on her face, and Georgiana experienced a change she'd never expected. A flush spread, but it wasn't from embarrassment. The warmth came from her heart and somewhere in her lower stomach. She allowed Edward to direct their steps about the furniture. To guide her through the waltz's intricacies. It was the most exquisite moment she'd ever known. “This is lovely,” she said softly.

 

Edward couldn't dispense with the volatility permeating his body's every pore. Of late, he'd found that nothing or no one could satisfy the deep sense of loneliness that followed him through his daily routine. Nearly a decade of serving his country had proved beneficial for his career and for his purse, but the war's bloodshed and carnage had taught him that life held precious moments; and he should embrace them when they occurred. This was definitely a special moment. He was in a private, darkened room with a very beautiful woman; however, that woman was Georgiana. His sweetly precocious Georgiana. That same girl he'd taught to swim. Whose many cuts and scrapes he'd bandaged. Who always inserted herself into his and Darcy's most private moments. Over whom he had once considered abandoning his honor and killing a man in cold
blood. That was the girl in his arms, but Georgiana was no longer a girl. Her very feminine curves fit the planes of his chest and his thigh. He needed to release her and place his cousin away from him. This was madness; yet, it felt so perfect.

“This is lovely,” she said softly.

“You are lovely,” he murmured. And she was. The look he witnessed earlier graced Georgiana's face again, and Edward realized it was meant for him. He brought that joyous response to her countenance. His heart sang of possibilities, but his head told him to slow down. This was Georgiana, and he'd not hurt her. He needed time to decide how best to proceed.