Christmas at Pemberley (8 page)

Lady Catherine's defiant chin rose another half inch. “That is an accurate summary.”

Wishing nothing more than a hasty retreat, Georgiana dropped a curtsy. “I must inform Mrs. Reynolds of the Collinses' arrival. I'll leave it to you,Your Ladyship, to determine whether you can maintain civility under such dire circumstances. Please keep in mind that Fitzwilliam shall require nothing less.”

Lady Catherine's upper lip curled in what could only be described as a snarl. “I always thought you a wisp of a girl. You may have a backbone, after all. Although I must admit, I preferred the gentler, more caring Georgiana Darcy.”

“DOES BARON BLOOMFIELD hold a special interest, Elizabeth?” His wife's intense absorption in every move Bloomfield made ate away at Darcy's composure.

She blushed. “Lord, no!” She declared self-mockingly. “No one can compare with you, Fitzwilliam.”

Darcy had tried to hold some part of himself apart from her, but from the beginning Elizabeth had held his heart in her grasp. The first time he had laid eyes upon her at the Meryton assembly, shock had slammed through him. “She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me,” he had told Charles Bingley, but his mind had shattered to a single thought: shards of desire for Elizabeth Bennet.

And he'd always been jealous—he'd tried desperately not to be, but was most assuredly so. At Netherfield, he'd said things he knew would provoke her just to draw Elizabeth's attention away from Bingley. He wanted her gaze on him. With his cousin Edward, the green-eyed monster had reared his head quite dramatically. There were moments at Rosings Park that he considered calling the good colonel out. He had ached for her—to know the splendor of her love.

On their wedding night, Darcy had remained at her bedchamber's door, watching her brush her raven-touched locks. He knew she was nervous, for he could see her top teeth catch up her bottom lip—a habit Elizabeth had when worried over something. The virginal white gown had only increased his desire. Recognizing his duty to his name, Darcy had always assumed that he'd desire the
woman that he wed, but with Elizabeth it was more than the physical contact. He enjoyed her company—his wife's astute, honest opinions—the completeness she brought to his life. She'd turned his world upside down; he was powerless against the control she held over his heart, his body, and his mind. That demure nightgown had stood between him and happiness.

No one can compare with you, Fitzwilliam
. Elizabeth's words echoed in his brain and shot straight to his groin. “Then would you care to explain your devotion to the baron?” he asked on a rasp.

Elizabeth chuckled self-consciously.“You'll think me a complete fool.” She paused to judge her husband's seriousness and then continued her explanation. “Whenever we're traveling, I watch people to discover who seems content with his lot in life. With gentlemen, such as the baron, I try to guess what equipage they might drive—the color of the crest and livery or what type of horse each man rides. If we're at a coaching inn, I might watch to see if I'm correct.”

Darcy smiled lovingly. “And are you accurate in your estimations?”

Elizabeth laughed softly. “Rarely.”

He fought to keep the laughter from his response. “I'm all astonishment, my love.You're known for your incisive judgments.”

Elizabeth swallowed her mirth. “As you well know, Mr. Darcy, I've experienced moments when I've taken no note of a person's true goodness.”

“As when you said, ‘I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry'?”

Her mouth's corners turned upward in amusement. “I did abuse you so abominably to your face. However, even you, my husband, admitted that you deserved my rebukes. For though my accusations were ill founded, formed on mistaken premises, your behavior to me at the time had merited the severest reproof.”

“It was unpardonable,” Darcy said seriously. “I cannot think of it without abhorrence.”

“We will not quarrel for the greater share of blame annexed to that evening,” said Elizabeth. “The conduct of neither, if strictly examined, was irreproachable, but since then we have both, I hope, improved in civility. Instead, let us dwell on the baron's steed. I say that, as a privileged gentleman, the man rides a grey gelding.”

Darcy allowed her to turn the subject. They'd analyzed their maddening courtship on more than one occasion. “Just a bit skewed,” he said with pleasure. “A roan-colored stallion.”

“See, I'm perfectly insensible,” she declared.

Darcy countered, “You're perfectly beautiful.”

Elizabeth's eyes sparkled—a teary mist. “You're prejudiced on my behalf, Mr. Darcy.”

“Until I met you, Elizabeth, I was always moving but ever going nowhere.”

“You say the most delicious things, Fitzwilliam.” She slid her hand under his. “We brought Christmas to Prestwick's today, Mr. Darcy.” She inhaled the pine's calming scent.

Darcy followed her gaze as he tightened his hold on her hand. “You brought Christmas to Prestwick's, Mrs. Darcy. Your handiwork pokes its head from every corner.”

“The maid Nan helped,” she shared.

“But to your credit, Elizabeth, the Washingtons owe their thanks.”

Elizabeth accepted his acknowledgment with grace. She'd learned to give in to his kindness. “And the gentlemen found some game?” After their conversation with Mrs. Washington, Darcy had first organized a hunt for Christmas greenery and then a different type of hunt.

“Padget's an excellent shot,” he disclosed. “He, Lord Horvak, Mr. Rennick, and Mr. Livingstone managed to bag several rabbits, a few game birds, and a deer. Mrs. Washington was most appreciative.”

Elizabeth guarded their privacy. “The baron didn't participate?”

Darcy whispered, “Mr. Bradley's gout and age kept him from joining the group. Mr. Betts and Mr. Dylan, the farmers who came in early that first night, helped Mr. Washington's man in the stable.”

“They've gotten along well for having not known each other previously,” Elizabeth observed.

“They have,” Darcy continued. “But they're both accustomed to hard work. And Horvak and Padget's friendship has allowed Livingstone and Rennick a room. The baron is the only one who expresses an entitlement.”

Elizabeth smirked. “As I assumed. At least, Mr. Darcy, I was correct in one of my estimations.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Collins.” Georgiana greeted the couple, along with the local vicar, in the main hallway. Kitty stood beside her. “Welcome to Pemberley. I'm Georgiana Darcy.”

“Miss Darcy,” Mr. Collins bowed stiffly before continuing, “I entreat your pardon for imposing on your family's good will, but I beg to know of Her Ladyship's continued good health.”

Georgiana considered the cleric's impertinent freedom beyond the pale, but Kitty had warned her of the man's determined air of following his own inclination. Eyeing Mr. Collins with restrained wonder, Georgiana managed to assure the man that his patron awaited him in the drawing room.

“I'm pleased to hear it, Miss Darcy.”

He puffed up to begin again, but Kitty shrewdly said, “Charlotte, you look exhausted. Were the roads horrid?”

“They're passable with great care,” Charlotte Collins assured them. “Miss Darcy, allow me to add my gratitude to that of my husband for granting us your hospitality.”

Georgiana noted a painful impatience cross Mrs. Collins's countenance. “I'm certain my sister shall be pleased to have you among our guests, Mrs. Collins. Elizabeth speaks often of your long-standing friendship.” Turning to the young vicar, Georgiana greeted the man who assisted Mr. Nathan with everyone's wraps. “Mr.Winkler, it was considerate of you to see Mr. and Mrs. Collins to our door, Sir.”

“Mr. Collins called at my home when he could secure no one's services because of the road conditions,” he said dryly.

“You took upon yourself a great kindness,” Georgiana remarked. “You'll dine with us, Mr. Winkler,” she ordered. “It's the least we can do.”

“Thank you, Miss Darcy,” he said politely. “And you, Miss Catherine. It is pleasant to hear of your return to Derbyshire.”

When the young vicar bowed over Kitty's hand, Georgiana noticed his apparent nervousness. Something told her that the cleric had chosen to escort the Collinses to Pemberley because of Kitty's return. She would have to ask her friend about the possibility. “We'll join my aunt and the others in the main drawing room.”

“Come, Cousin.” Kitty took Mr. Collins's arm. “Mr. and Mrs. Darcy are away, but are expected this evening. Mr. Darcy plans a surprise for my sister. We're all part of Elizabeth's Christmas. In addition to Her Ladyship and Miss De Bourgh, the Bingleys are in attendance, as are your family: Mama, Papa, and Mary.”

Georgiana walked beside Mrs. Collins and the vicar. They trailed Kitty and her cousin. “Elizabeth is well, I pray,” Charlotte whispered.

“Mrs. Darcy is quite well. I cannot imagine Pemberley without her. She brings life to my brother's home.”

“I don't doubt it,” Charlotte added. “Elizabeth was always the most resourceful of our friends.”

They entered the room to find Collins bowing low over Lady Catherine's outstretched hand. “Oh,Your Ladyship, I cannot thank you enough for the benevolence you have shown me and Mrs. Collins.”

“And you found your relative well, Mr. Collins?” Lady Catherine intoned royally.

“We did,Your Ladyship. Of course, Mrs. Collins and I steadily resisted the invitation of my Warrington cousin to remain through the festive days.”

He bowed again to Miss De Bourgh and a third time to the room as a whole. The man was everything Georgiana had heard: Mr. Collins was not a sensible man, and the deficiency of nature had been but little assisted by education or Society, the greatest part of his life having been spent under the guidance of an illiterate and miserly father; and though he belonged to one of the universities, he had merely kept the necessary terms without forming at it any useful acquaintance. The subjection in which his father had brought him up had given him originally a great humility of manner; but it was now a good deal counteracted by the self-conceit of a weak head, living in retirement, and the consequential feelings of early and unexpected propriety. A fortunate chance had recommended him to Lady Catherine De Bourgh when the living of Hunsford was vacant; and the respect which he felt for her high rank and his veneration for her as his patroness, mingling with a very good opinion of himself, of his authority as a clergyman, and his right as a rector, made him altogether a mixture of pride and obsequiousness, self-importance, and humility.

“It's good you have come, Collins,” Lady Catherine declared. “We may need to leave early for Kent.”

Georgiana recognized her aunt's manipulation and remained silent, but the others civilly protested Lady Catherine's exit. “You cannot mean to depart,Your Ladyship,” Caroline said. “Surely, Mr. Darcy would not approve of such a precipitous change in your travel plans.”

“Certainly,” Mr. Collins clarified, “we'll do as Your Ladyship directs, but I would encourage you to think upon it, Ma'am. The roads were treacherous, were they not, Mr. Winkler?”

Without even an introduction, Collins had brought the man into the conversation. Mr. Winkler bowed to the room. “The going would be quite slow,Your Ladyship.”

Georgiana added quickly, “May I present Mr. Thorne Winkler? Mr.Winkler holds the living at Lambton.” She introduced the man to each cluster of guests.

“I'm extremely pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Bennet,” Mr. Winkler said formally. “It's been a fortuitous occasion to have Miss Catherine among my congregation when she has visited at Pemberley.”