Richard laid the case onto the table, stepping back as Darcy approached with reverence. “This is unbelievable. I cannot thank you both enough.”

“I should have thought of it myself and claimed all the glory,” Richard said. “After all, years of immersing yourself in the journals of William Bartram and Jonathan Carver, as well as other American frontiersmen, and the undoubtedly embellished tales of Daniel Boone, should have enlightened me.”

Darcy had opened the case, nearly the entire room’s occupants now clustered about to watch, revealing a pristine condition rifle. But not just any rifle. A uniquely American invention of the 18th century frontiersman: a long rifle. This one sported a stock of beautifully grained wood, lacquered and decorated with silver and brass inlays fancily scrolled, the stamped and dated emblem of its makers, and a barrel easily four feet in length. Every surface, both wooden and metal, gleamed. It was exquisite.

Collectively, the men in the room, even Mr. Hurst who had left his vigil by the liquor cabinet, whistled in appreciative awe. The women, unschooled in the artistry of firearms, nonetheless could readily grasp the fine quality and sheer beauty of the displayed specimen.

Darcy grasped the weapon, lifting with steady and competent hands, as Richard continued his narrative. “This one reputedly has a range of nearly four hundred yards in the hands of an experienced marksman. You should be able to achieve that, Cousin, with practice.”

“Four hundred yards!” Mr. Bennet gasped. “I would love to see that!”

Colonel Fitzwilliam turned to the skeptical Mr. Bennet. “A general I know has a long rifle and has reached four hundred seventy yards. Of course, he is our regiment’s finest marksman, actually trained as a sharpshooter, but Darcy here is quite an excellent shot. An English Baker rifle can nearly attain that distance, but not as reliably. Nor are they as imposing in appearance or as beautifully designed. I daresay these American rifles are the most elaborate I have ever seen, as painful as that is to admit.”

Darcy’s eyes were glittering as he sighted down the barrel, stock end nestled flawlessly against his shoulder. “I do not know about four hundred yards, but I certainly will attempt it. The balance is excellent, weight perfect, and you are correct Richard, no English or German firearm compares. Damned Americans!”

“Do you like it then?” Lizzy asked teasingly. “I am sure Richard could get my money back.”

He lowered the weapon to his side, encircled his surprised wife’s waist, and drew her in for a firm kiss. “I love it almost as much as I love you. You keep your paws off my rifle and I shall leave your musical box unmolested. Agreed?” Lizzy nodded, several eruptions of laughter ensuing around the massed observers.

An hour later, all the gifts were finally unwrapped and organized in individual piles. The strewn papers and ribbons were discarded, and the satisfied Pemberley inhabitants relaxed as they awaited the call to dinner. Select items were inspected and shared with others while the men loitered in a knot around the corner table where the rifle case now sat. The rifle itself was passed from hand to hand, all delighting in the temporary joy of imagining firing the stupendous weapon at unsuspecting game. Darcy was already arranging a target session for the morrow, graciously offering to allow each man the opportunity to test his skill.

Jane sat next to Lizzy, admiring the locket lying on a pillowy cushion of velvet. “This truly is exquisite, Miss Darcy. You must whisper in Mr. Darcy’s ear to casually mention to my husband where it was purchased. I would dearly love one myself.”

Georgiana smiled. “I shall tell Mr. Bingley myself! It would make a perfect Christmas gift next year or perhaps for your birthday. The jeweler in Matlock, Mr. Ingalls, is quite excellent and reasonably priced compared to most found in Town. He has quite an extensive selection of lockets, in fact. I thought Lizzy would like this one,” she finished shyly.

“And you are absolutely correct, Georgie. I adore it! In fact, if it is not a bother, can you clasp it on for me? Fortunately, I did not take the time this morning to don a necklace. A fortuitous oversight on my part.”

The locket in question, a gift from Georgiana to her new sister, was of silver. In size it was only a half-inch diameter with a raised and exceptionally detailed picture on the lid of a sleeping infant in profile with tiny hands folded by his cheek. Georgiana had presented it with the humble suggestion of placing a lock of Alexander’s hair inside. Lizzy was still choked up and Darcy quite smug in that he knew of the gift before her, although hastening to clarify that it was entirely Georgiana’s idea and chosen without any input from him.

Not a soul was left wanting or dissatisfied. Lizzy played hostess, engaging and gregarious so that even Lady Annabella was drawn into frequent conversation and stilted laughter. Dinner was marvelous, a dozen courses served over nearly two hours as humor and conversation raged. The Master and Mistress sat at opposite ends of the long, elegantly adorned table sharing frequent warm gazes. The weather held fair if bitterly cold, permitting after dinner walks in the waning light. Early evening entertainment lapsed in the music room with a splendid array of instruments played and vocal ranges lifted to the delight of all. Alexander joined the group for a spell, awake and happily passed from embrace to embrace until eventually falling asleep in his grandfather’s arms.

It was late in the evening, music and singing issuing forth gaily, when Mr. Taylor circumspectly approached his Master and leaned for a whispered conference. Darcy’s face instantly tightened, lips a thin line as he nodded brusquely and rose, leaving the room without a word.

“How extraordinary!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. “I thought Mr. Darcy’s former rudeness was extinguished with marital felicity.”

“Mother, please,” Lizzy said. “Remember that my husband manages a vast estate which occasionally requires problem solving of a serious nature. Papa, do you mind holding Alexander for a bit longer? Good. Excuse me please.” And with a nod toward the group in general, she followed her husband.

As suspected, he had removed to his study with Mr. Taylor and Mr. Keith and was standing before the desk where he sat scribbling on a piece of parchment, another lying by his left hand.

“Mr. Keith, I should be no more than a few days. These envelopes here”—he tapped a stack with the end of his pen—“are ready to post. These papers here are signed.” He tapped another pile. “Issue payment draughts as necessary, address and post. I will be staying at the Georgian as usual.”

“Very good, sir.” Mr. Keith replied.

“Mr. Taylor, alert Samuel to pack a small travel bag for me, then inform the stables to prepare Parsifal. I will depart within the hour.”

“Depart! Where?” Darcy glanced up in surprise, not aware Lizzy had entered the room.

“Derby,” he answered shortly, eyes returning to the parchment.

“William, it is already dark outside…”

“I am well aware of the time, Mrs. Darcy!” He snapped, eyes troubled and blazing as he glanced at her briefly. “Thank you, Mr. Taylor, Mr. Keith. Follow my orders. You are dismissed.”

“Yes, sir.” And with a bow both men left.

Lizzy stood in silence, embarrassed, angry, and worried. Darcy seemed to be ignoring her. She bit her lip, slowly stepping toward the desk. “William, what has happened?”

He sighed and melted at her tender tone, falling into his chair and running one hand through his hair. He closed his eyes and gesticulated to the left hand paper. “There was a fire today at my mill in Derby. Much has been destroyed, two men badly wounded, and three dead. Thankfully, as it was Christmas, most were home with their families,” he finished flatly.

Lizzy’s breath caught, eyes glazing with tears. “Oh, love! I am so sorry!” She crossed quickly, placing a hand onto his shoulder. The gesture woke Darcy from his stasis, and he stood up briskly and stepped past Lizzy impatiently.

“Thank you. I am afraid I must attend to the aftermath personally. I am sorry, Elizabeth, but there is no choice.”

“I understand, dearest, I truly do and would think less of you if you did not go. However, must you leave tonight? Traveling in the dark is not safe and I would worry so. Nothing can be accomplished until tomorrow in any case.”

“I have traveled in the dark many times before. I can be there in a few hours, attain information, and be on site at first light. Time is precious in situations such as these, Elizabeth.”

“William, please be reasonable…”

“There is nothing to discuss! It is my decision and I am in no mood to argue the matter.”

“At best you would arrive by eleven, far too late to do anything of consequence. I am merely asking you to stay safe with us tonight and leave at first light tomorrow. What difference can a few hours make? The damage has already been done, dearest.”

“I cannot stay here, laughing and amusing myself when people in my employ are suffering. It is unconscionable!”

“What is unconscionable is the possibility of injury while galloping full bore, as you would, on a dark and muddy road for two hours! What is unconscionable is that you would not rationally consider your safekeeping and the anxiety of your family!”

“I am an excellent rider, madam, as you know. Nothing will happen to me.”

“You can assure this, sir? You have the gift of foresight? How delightful it is to know this! Or is it that you are immortal and I was unaware? Whatever the case, thank you for explaining. By all means then, ride on! I shall return to our guests with a cheery heart knowing that I have no fear of surviving without you and raising our son fatherless!”