Georgiana wanted to scream that her aunt’s narrow view had nothing to do with correctness and everything to do with redress. Instead, Georgiana stood to make her exit. “We hope soon to see you at Pemberley, Your Lordship. My brother always appreciates your pragmatic advice, and I shall look forward to a chess rematch.”

The Matlocks followed Georgiana to their feet. Lady Matlock caught Georgiana’s hand. “We shall see each other upon Edward’s return if not before then. Give Fitzwilliam and Mrs. Darcy our affection.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Georgiana turned to Lady Catherine. “As always, Aunt, it’s a pleasure to see you. I pray that you have a safe return to Kent.” Out of respect, Georgiana dropped a quick curtsy.

“Come,” the Countess said. “I am certain that your carriage and Mrs. Annesley await.”



“It is not much, Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth observed as her husband assisted her from his traveling coach. The small inn on a secondary road obviously lacked the amenities to which they had become accustomed on this journey. No one hustled forward to help Mr. Simpson or Jasper with the coach.

Darcy followed her gaze and tried not to frown. “If the place is clean, dry, and warm, I will be thankful.” Icy rain pelted the umbrella he held over their heads. “Let us see what the man has to offer weary travelers.”

They entered the building to find a small common room with a full fire in the hearth. Darcy released Elizabeth to the blaze’s warmth while he met the jovial innkeeper, who bustled in from the kitchen. “Good-day, Sir,” the man called as he approached. Glancing at Elizabeth, he added, “I see that you and yer missus rightly decided to seek shelter from this storm. I be Josiah Washington, and this be Prestwick’s Portal.”

“An alliterative name.” Darcy observed the inn’s simplicity.

“Me wife’s idea — said it sounded like an expensive painting.”

“Would you have a room to let for Mrs. Darcy’s and my safe harbor?”

The man laid a registry book upon a tall table. “Darcy?” Mr. Washington smiled merrily. “I know of the Darcys who live in Derbyshire.You be kin to them, Sir?”

Noting the man’s age, Darcy said, “Likely my parents.”

“It be a great estate. I seen it once for meself,” the man said as he handed Darcy a pen and ink.

Darcy smiled, but he preferred not to allow Pemberley to define him. At least, he had not done so since meeting and wooing Elizabeth. His wife had taught him a difficult lesson about pretentiousness.

Elizabeth stepped beside him. “I hope Hannah and Mr. Lucas are not stranded someplace along the road.” Darcy had sent his valet and Elizabeth’s maid ahead.

“As they left a day before us, I am certain they have missed the storm’s worst. I’m sorry that we didn’t.” He spoke softly to her alone.

“It’s five days to Christmas Eve. We shall see Pemberley for the celebration.”

Darcy thought of the surprise he had arranged for his wife for her Christmas pleasure. He prayed it wasn’t for naught. Although she pretended otherwise, Elizabeth had suffered greatly from her untimely births. The losses had wreaked havoc with his wife’s normal playfulness. The first miscarriage had come mere months into their marriage. At the time, Mrs. Reynolds, his housekeeper, had assured Darcy that such lapses were common, and that his wife likely did not even realize her condition until it was over.

The second had occurred nearly a half year later. With that gestation, Pemberley had celebrated Elizabeth’s happiness, but some three and a half months into her term, the bleeding began. Darcy had immediately summoned a physician, but the man could do nothing for the child. Saving Elizabeth became the treatment’s focus, and although she had recovered physically, he often saw the longing displayed in Elizabeth’s eyes. For example, when her sister Jane Bingley mentioned motherhood’s joys, his Elizabeth seemed to die a slow, lingering death.

It explained why Elizabeth had refused to acknowledge her current condition. If she didn’t form an attachment to the child she carried, its possible loss couldn’t bring her pain. So, they — he, his staff, and Georgiana — had participated in a silent dance in which those who attended his wife ordered new dresses, without her approval, for her quickly changing body, and placed footstools close to her favorite chair, and catered to her cravings for chocolate and herring (fortunately not both at the same time). No one mentioned his wife’s condition, but they all tended to it.

“If you could do something to brighten Mrs. Darcy’s spirits, it would better your wife’s chances of carrying to term,” Doctor Palmer had suggested less than a month earlier. “The more Mrs. Darcy dwells on her losses, the more likely a repetition will occur.”

That very day, Darcy had sent a letter to Longbourn asking the Bennets to join him and Elizabeth for Christmas. His wife hadn’t seen her parents since the day she and Darcy had left Hertfordshire for Pemberley. Darcy had refused to allow her to travel following the two prior miscarriages, and then Elizabeth had spent two months with her sister when Jane had had her twins. Her other sister, Kitty Bennet, had visited Pemberley several times, but Elizabeth had bemoaned her father’s absence, and even that of her insensible mother. Therefore, he had dispatched the invitation, and the Bennets had readily accepted. He had carefully planned his Christmas surprise, but Darcy hadn’t considered the weather.

“If Mr. Parnell hadn’t been so obstinate, we might already be at Pemberley,” he observed.

In truth, Parnell had snubbed Darcy’s offer, claiming it was too generous to Darcy’s smaller investors. “You are a fool, Darcy,” he had said, “if you think I might involve myself in such a weak scheme. You would give away the cow before you had one drop of milk.”

Darcy had refused to do business with such a tight-fisted man. He was all for making a profit, but not at the expense of those less fortunate than he. He had sought out Parnell because Darcy had heard that the man was an astute businessman, and that Parnell understood what was required for success. Instead, he had found a bitter, conniving entrepreneur who spoke venomous words to his employees. Darcy had been glad to leave the negotiations behind.

“I should’ve left you at Pemberley, but I would have been sore to spend my nights alone or my days without the pleasure of your laughter,” he had told Elizabeth as they waited for Mr. Washington to arrange their room. “Quite selfish, but I find myself hopelessly addicted to your closeness.”

“I thought you admired me for my impertinence.” Darcy relished the fact that she teased him, a welcomed change from Elizabeth’s recent melancholy. Perhaps his taking her with him on this journey would promote her healing.

“Impertinence was your estimation,” he murmured close to her ear. “I sought the liveliness of your mind.” A raised eyebrow lodged her objection. “But I lied,” he said huskily. “It was for your skin’s creamy satin and that sprinkling of freckles across your nose.”

Elizabeth flushed. “Mr. Darcy!” she protested with a gasp.

“Yes, my Elizabeth,” he whispered seductively into her hair. “I am here to please you, my love.” His smile became positively smug. “You should also know that I admired your easy playfulness, the uncommonly intelligent expression of your beautiful eyes, and your light and pleasing figure.”

Although she blushed again, and her voice was tremulous, Elizabeth beamed with joy. She laughed, genuinely and fully, and Darcy’s heart opened further to her. Her laugh was the most delightful sound he had ever heard. “Fitzwilliam Darcy,” she began, “I cannot fathom how I ever thought you a prig.You are an absolute cad!”