A light tapping on his chamber door brought Edward from a deep sleep. He dreamed of Georgiana and their wedding night, and he was sore to leave his bed to answer the door. It is probably Darcy with another sword, he thought as he groggily staggered to answer the entreaty. In America, his sleep was forever being disturbed with relayed news of the war’s progress, but he hadn’t expected the circumstance to follow him to Pemberley.

He had properly proposed to Georgiana, and she had accepted. That thought had played through his mind all evening, and in his dream he’d gathered her into his arms and had taken a long, leisurely drink of her lips. His lips had skirted her neck’s slender column, and he had kissed along the shoulder blade. But then the tapping had started in the back of his brain and had rattled him out of that exquisite moment. “Coming,” he grumbled as he reached for the door’s handle. “What the… ” he cursed as he jerked open the door. His sleep-induced brain half-expected to find Southland or another officer on his threshold, or even to face his cousin’s angry countenance. The appearance of Darcy’s butler jolted Edward alert. “Mr. Nathan?”

“Forgive me, Colonel, this just came for you by special courier, Sir.The messenger was from Carlton House.” Mr. Nathan extended the silver salver upon which the note rested. He reverently bowed as Edward reached for the heavily waxed paper.

Edward lifted the enveloped “orders” from the tray. Shaken by the possibilities, he warned the butler, “Tell no one of this, Mr. Nathan. I’ll inform Mr. Darcy of its contents in the morning.”

“As you wish, Colonel.” The butler bowed out and closed the door.

Edward took the message to the desk to break the seal. He found a taper and lit it from the fireplace embers. Then he stirred the coal and added more to warm the room before lighting a branch from that first single candle. “What are you avoiding?” he chastised himself as he straightened the bed’s linens. He knew exactly what he eschewed: News from Carlton House meant his letter to Elphinstone had drawn the Prince Regent’s notice. “It might be something worth knowing,” he reasoned aloud.

Accepting the inevitable, Edward brought the folded pages to the bed. First plumping up the pillows and crawling under the blankets, he took the opener he had retrieved from the desk drawer and broke the seal. Silently, his lips read the words that could change everything. “I knew something didn’t make sense,” he grumbled. “Damn! Darcy will kill me.”

Chapter 19

The Darcy household awoke to the preparations for the evening’s scheduled event. The decorations had transformed the stables and the attached barn into a country assembly hall. Garlands and wreaths hung from the rafters, creating a winter marvel, smelling of aromatic greenery. Although Christmas Day had passed, the community overlooked the still-evident mistletoe balls. They would be put to good use by many of the local tenants and the village girls. Trestle tables held food platters and lemonade bowls. Ale kegs ensured that refreshments would flow freely.

“Good morning, Mr. Nathan,” Darcy said as he strolled through the main hallway. “Is everything in place for this evening?”

“Mrs. Reynolds reports no problems, Sir. I’ll have Thomas move the small desk to the stable entrance after breakfast.”

Darcy smiled with satisfaction. He would continue a tradition begun by his father: Two hours before the celebration started, he would “hold court.” He would listen to disputes and petitions by his tenants and the local shopkeepers. Some asked for small loans; others asked for justice. He would hear all comers and exact reasonableness as he saw fit. He gave some requests credence; others he denied. “Excellent,” he said. “I’ll join Mrs. Darcy in the morning room.”


He strode into breakfast feeling the contentment of having Elizabeth truly happy for a change. Even the stress of Mrs. Joseph’s early delivery and of returning home to an eclectic guest mix hadn’t lessened her sparkle. She’d always risen to the occasion. In reflection, he wondered if he and his staff had erred by giving Elizabeth too much time to recover from her losses. Perhaps, she simply needed to involve herself in life rather than to dwell on death.

“Good morning, Mrs. Darcy.” He caught her hand and brought the back of it to his lips. “I hope you slept well.”

Elizabeth smiled brightly at him. It was part of the flirtatious nature of their relationship. He knew exactly how his wife had slept. Other than the few occasions upon which he had spent a day or two away from the estate on business, Elizabeth had shared his bed since their wedding night. “Exquisitely so, my husband. And you?” she asked coyly.

“Excellent, my dear.” They had made love twice last evening. Once when she had tempted him with her new gown and once after he presented her with the last of her Christmas gifts. Darcy winked at her. “Mr. Nathan reports everything is on schedule.”

“As does Mrs. Reynolds,” his wife informed him. “The good lady and Georgiana organized some of the guests to assist in the decorating. Mrs. Bingley, my father, Mr. Grange, and Mary were of use in achieving tonight’s success.”