With a signal to those in wait, Darcy stepped to the temporary platform constructed at one end of the large open area. Everything had been removed and scrubbed clean. His staff had outperformed themselves. His wife and family had taken their places on the benches arranged across the front of the open area, and he was ready to begin this annual celebration. His cousin had seen to the only impediment: Mr. Manneville. The colonel had placed two footmen, with orders to guard the American’s room, outside Manneville’s door. “Good evening,” he said loudly, and everyone quieted immediately. “Mrs. Darcy and I wish to welcome you to Pemberley. We’ll begin tonight’s festivities with a special performance.” He gestured to his left. “So let us begin.” Darcy returned to the benches to sit beside Elizabeth. Capturing her hand, he brought it to his lap. “This should be entertaining.”

She returned his whisper. “I cannot believe you went to all this trouble.”

“I wanted this to be a Christmastide like no other.”

Elizabeth squeezed his hand. “Do you not think you have succeeded, my husband?”

Darcy chuckled. “I suppose I have.”

“Our tale tonight begins with Saint George,” one of the mummers announced. The performer wore a high paper cap and a beribboned jacket. “But he’s not our only hero.”


Thirty minutes later, Darcy’s houseguests and his cottagers cheered for the motley actors. “I never thought to see Marco Polo and Napoleon in a play with Saint George and Admiral Nelson,” Bingley laughed as he leaned toward Darcy. “But somehow it worked.”

“The absurdity should’ve screamed ridiculous, but the juxtaposition was entertaining,” Elizabeth responded.

Darcy looked around to note the musicians’ arrival. “Excuse me,” he said to Bingley. “I’ll have Mr. Nathan pay the performers.” As he stepped away, Miss Bingley shadowed him for several steps before he turned to address her. “Do you require something, Miss Bingley?” She glanced around at his cottagers and unconsciously wrinkled her nose. The gesture made Darcy infinitely glad that he hadn’t chosen her as his wife.

“I was wondering whether to expect Mr. Manneville to join us?”

In concern, Darcy studied her face. He couldn’t divulge what he knew of Manneville, and even though her pretentiousness often displeased him, he wouldn’t have Caroline Bingley injured by the man’s duplicity. He quickly decided to speak privately to Bingley on the morrow regarding his sister’s interest in Manneville. “I understand that Mr. Manneville hasn’t taken well to our good English fare — too foreign for the American’s tastes.”

“After so many days?” she questioned. “It seems most strange.”

“Mayhap it’s that blasted coffee he drinks so much of,” Darcy remarked. “English tea is better for the constitution. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve duties to perform.”


A few minutes later, the musicians tuned their instruments in preparation for the evening’s dancing. “Mrs. Darcy,” he extended his hand to Elizabeth. “Would you do me the honor of the first dance?”

Elizabeth rose to take his hand, but she said,“I would be tolerably pleased, Mr. Darcy.”

His heart leapt with pride. “Am I tolerable enough to tempt you, Madam?” he teased.

“I am of a humor to give consequence to the right gentleman.”

He adored the way she twisted his words from the Meryton assembly. “Then I am blessed, Mrs. Darcy, to have chosen a woman of discriminating tastes.”

“That you are, Mr. Darcy.”

He laughed at her light-hearted manner. That was the Elizabeth with whom he’d fallen in love. At Netherfield, when she argued with him, his Elizabeth’s fine eyes sparkled in challenge, and he’d filled his consciousness exclusively with her countenance’s memory. Several others within his party partnered for this opening set: Mary and Mr. Grange; Anne and Southland; Mr. and Mrs. Bingley; Kitty and Winkler, Georgiana and Edward; and Mr. and Mrs. Bennet. His friends and family honored him and his estate with their attendance, and Darcy would fondly remember this moment. Normally, he, Elizabeth, and Georgiana would stay an hour and then depart. The more ale his cottagers drank, the cruder their language, and he’d not expose his ladies to the boisterousness, but perhaps they might stay a bit longer this evening. He was in the mood to dance with his wife.

As he and Elizabeth occupied a position at the floor’s center, a rather loud whisper took hold. “Kiss her.” The chant began on their left and soon spread to those milling about the open space. Darcy looked up to find an elaborate mistletoe wreath about their heads. “What say you, Mrs. Darcy?” He grinned mischievously at her — offering Elizabeth a dare.

Elizabeth lifted her chin, and Darcy bent to kiss her cheek. Immediately, a groan of disapproval arose. “Kiss her,” the chant became louder.

“Will you accept my return, my dear?” He saw immediately how much she was enjoying this mockery. What Elizabeth didn’t realize was that he wanted to kiss her before everyone who mattered to him: to claim her before his world.

“Please, Elizabeth.” Georgiana giggled.

Elizabeth’s voice was honey sweet. “My lips shall make the sacrifice, Mr. Darcy.” She puckered good-naturedly.

Darcy removed two berries from the wreath before he caught her chin and lifted it gently. Her placid taunt faded quickly. Gentlemen didn’t kiss their ladies in public, but he intended to kiss her, to tell the world of his love. Darcy’s mouth touched hers — not a brush of his lips — but a tender acknowledgment of their devotion. Without an audience, the kiss would’ve led to a more intimate encounter, and everyone realized it, especially Elizabeth, who blushed thoroughly. “Very nice,” he murmured as a cheer arose among the onlookers.



Throughout the evening, Darcy noted how often Edward had stolen a kiss from Georgiana. Although he knew his cousin’s suit sincere, the reality caused his heart to lurch uncontrollably. “May I claim the next dance?” he asked as he stepped beside his sister.