Lizzy may have wanted to sleep longer and was certain by the stealth employed as Darcy tread about the room that he did not propose to wake her quite yet, but she discovered that she was more than ready to greet their eighth Christmas as a married couple, even if the sun was hiding below the horizon.

Darcy gingerly pulled the heavy burgundy velvet drape aside and carefully slid his tall, muscular body under the thick coverings so as not to lift them off his wife’s bare skin. He slithered across the cool expanse until reaching the burrow created by where he had lain nestled against her back. Fully intending to resume his customary sleeping position with Elizabeth clutched within his arms and legs, snuggling on the edges of sleep for an additional hour or two, he was surprised when she rapidly flipped over and pulled his face down for a hard kiss.

“Merry Christmas, my dearest,” she breathed minutes later.

“I apologize for waking you. I did not mean to.”

“I am happy you did, intended or not. I find that I want you far more than sleep.”

He chuckled. “I love the increased ardor of pregnancy.” His lips traveled over the sensitive skin along her neck while one hand caressed the soft abdominal swell barely palpable under his palm.

“I am not convinced it is primarily due to pregnancy. It may simply be that you are so desirable that I cannot resist you.”

“If you insist that is the reason I will not argue. But I have noticed a pattern after three previous children. When you are not leaning over a chamber pot, that is.”

Lizzy grimaced. Like with Noella, her morning sickness for the first trimester had been horrific. Doing anything besides vomiting was nearly impossible. Darcy smugly announced that the similarity meant they were blessed with another girl, a declaration Lizzy was willing to accept primarily because she was too unwell to argue. Now, with perfect health restored, she was making up for lost time—in every aspect.

After fulfilling tradition, they dozed for a few more hours, Lizzy rousing when the clock chimed six o’clock. She nudged Darcy’s inert side, earning a weak grunt. “We should dress in our night clothes before the children arrive pounding on the door.”

“Mrs. Hanford will not let them invade us until seven at the earliest,” he muttered. He cupped the bulge that was more prominent when she lay on her side, wishing the baby were large enough for him to feel when moving. “Did you hear that Richard felt their baby move last week for the first time?”

“Yes. Apparently he was as ridiculous as you always are, and as ridiculous as he was with Emery.”

“I honestly never thought I would be sharing these paternal moments with my cousin. And the fact that you and his wife seem to conceive at roughly the same time is a nice bonus.”

“Indeed it is, for all of us. I am so happy they are here this year. I think our Noella has decided Hugh Pomeroy is her personal knight.”

“He is a fine lad to put up with our volatile daughter. The soul of a saint, I believe, and he sure knows how to calm her temper. I should take lessons.”

“Don’t be silly. She melts around you, love.”

“She has me firmly wrapped about her fingers, and she knows it,” he said affectionately. “I cannot believe she is three today. And already such a little lady. Beautiful, smart, and spunky like her mother.” He kissed the nape of her neck, his hands instinctively caressing.

A mere fifteen minutes later loud knocks sounded upon the door separating their bedchamber and private sitting room. Solid oak did not greatly mute the three voices demanding immediate entrance. Darcy laughed, sweetly kissing his wife before rising. He tossed her the nightgown lying on the chest and then donned the trousers and robe left just for this occasion. He unlatched the lock, Noella and Michael nearly tumbling face first onto the carpet when the door was opened.

“Papa! We knocked and knocked for ages!”

“Mama, today I three!”

The two youngest Darcys dashed to the bed, climbed the steps like little monkeys, and leapt into their mother’s outstretched arms. All the while they jabbered about presents and birthdays and food and dreams. Alexander stood with slightly more composure but was grinning and bouncing excitedly. Darcy bent and swept his eldest son into his arms, the smaller arms encircling his neck as soft kisses were planted to cheeks and lips. Together they walked to the bed, joining Lizzy and Michael and Noella, who were chattering non-stop.

“Mrs. Hanford made us dress and drink our juice,” the six-year-old said with disgust. “She said we had to wait until seven-thirty.” Alexander’s tone conveyed astonishment at such a baffling commandment, but then he brightened. “Uncle George saved us early. He came to the nursery and said it was time to wake Eros and Psyche. He brought us here. Were you and mama reading Mr. Adlington’s translation of Apuleius?”

“No. Nor should you be reading that! Your uncle likes to tease and exaggerate, son. And cause trouble.” He tweaked Alexander’s nose, the serious boy’s dismay at the very idea of doing something wrong etched upon his face. “Relax, sweetling. Mrs. Hanford was performing her duties as I ordered, but it is fine that Uncle George rescued you from the nursery. Mama and I were waiting for you three. We need special Christmas hugs and kisses from our children before we join the others.”

“The new baby cannot kiss yet, can she mama?”

“Not yet, but you can give kisses and happy Christmas wishes.” This they did, tenderly touching the soft swell of Lizzy’s abdomen. The reality of a baby in her belly was mysterious and comprehended to varying degrees by their immature minds, but they all knew a sibling was to join them and they were eager.

“Christmas kisses need mistletoe, yes, Papa?”

“It isn’t a requisite, miss, but it does add to the fun.”

“Mr. Rothchilde must think so. He was kissing Miss Betsy for a long time outside the ballroom.”

Noella nodded in agreement with her brother. “Samuel too, Papa. He and Marguerite were kissing yesterday.”

Lizzy laughed aloud. “Now that is a shock. Not Rothchilde and Betsy…”

“No?”

Lizzy squeezed her husband’s knee, chuckling. “They have been courting for months now, darling, but it does not surprise me that you are unaware! I am more surprised that Marguerite managed to waylay your valet. Poor Samuel must have been red as a beet.”

Darcy grunted. “Be that as it may, what I am curious about is how you two seem to be catching so many clandestine kissers under mistletoe. Wandering the halls freely after escaping your nannies?”

“Yep!” They declared simultaneously with nary a hint of remorse. “We saw Aunt Mary kissing Uncle Joshua. Caleb kissing Miss Cassie. Aunt Giana kissing…”

“Very well,” Darcy dryly interrupted the flood, “I believe we get the idea.”

“And Uncle George showed us the hidden passageway behind the King Arthur tapestry!”

“Oh did he now?” Darcy growled, Lizzy bursting into laughter.

“Be calm, dearest. It only leads to the music room so no harm can be done. I have never understood what the purpose of that secret route could be.”

“Mysteries of Pemberley aside, you two are hereby forbidden to evade your caretakers and wander the halls, understood?”

“Yes, Papa,” they quickly agreed, heads nodding in unison.

Lizzy chuckled under her breath and Darcy briefly closed his eyes, both knowing the admonishment would be as ignored as the promise. Prim Alexander sat on his father’s lap through the whole commentary with his lips pressed tightly together and brows knitted. Lizzy ruffled his curls, leaned for a kiss, and whispered for his ears only, “Occasional misbehaving is healthy, Alexander. You should give it a try now and again.” But he truly looked aghast at the idea, Lizzy only laughing harder and pulling her firstborn onto her lap for a snug embrace.

“Can we go now? Please!” Michael and Noella pleaded, bouncing on their knees, for once not irritating each other in their agreement over Christmas entertainments.

“I am hungry.”

“And I have Christmas presents and birthday presents and cake!”

“It’s not fair that she gets more presents,” Michael grumbled, the truce obviously over as he glared at his sister.

“It’s my birthday!” Noella smugly declared, smirking as she added, “Christmas is my special day, not yours.”

“Christmas is everybody’s special day. It’s Jesus’ day, not yours, silly!”

“Today is God’s day first,” Lizzy interrupted what promised to be full-scale war. “But we will manage to celebrate both special events. Just as Alexander’s birthday falls on mine and your papa’s anniversary and we always celebrate both.”

“But…”

“No ‘buts’ young man,” Darcy caressed the thick brown locks so like his. “Look at it this way, son: You have a birthday all your own. A day not shared with any other holiday or person.”

“So can we open presents now?” Noella asked, ignoring Michael’s cheery expression and protruding tongue.

“Your birthday will be celebrated later today, after church and Christmas.”

“But I am three!” she wailed, tears instantly forming.

“Technically you will not be three until late this afternoon, Noella, because that is when you were born.”

“But, Papa! That is silly. Today is my birthday and today happened at midnight!”

“You cannot argue with that logic,” Lizzy murmured with a smile.

Darcy laughed. “All right, Miss Three Years Old, let your mother and me get dressed…”

“Dressed?” Michael whined. “That will take forever!”