“If that is what it takes, Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth leaned into him. “I would willingly sacrifice my lips for the truth.”

Her taunt made him chuckle. “It would be no sacrifice on my part, my Love.” Darcy kissed her again, only more tenderly this time.

Elizabeth’s breathing became shallow. “We have our best conversations in each other’s arms, but I insist on knowing what is going on. Has it something to do with Miss Donnel’s accident?”

Darcy’s thoughts went to the missing items, and to the Pemberley staffer who had spoken so disrespectfully to Mrs. Jenkinson and likely set up the trap on the stairs. Addressing those issues with Elizabeth created a conflict for him. He felt a need to keep unpleasantness away from her. Finally, he said,“I found it inappropriate for Lord Stafford to spend the evening in Miss Donnel’s room.”

Elizabeth ran her fingertips through Darcy’s hair.“Well, the lady is his cousin.”

Darcy reluctantly released her and led Elizabeth to a nearby settee. “Miss Donnel is not His Lordship’s cousin; she is his mistress. I insisted when Lord Stafford accepted our hospitality that he and Miss Donnel keep their relationship secret. I tried to shield you and Georgiana and the others.”

This revelation surprised her. “I see. I am all astonishment, my Husband, that you would tolerate such a situation.”

“It was not to my liking, but His Lordship is an acquaintance of Edward’s older brother, and I could not send the viscount out on the road with the ice and snow. I would have no man’s death on my conscience—or the death of his mistress.” Darcy paused, debating whether to share his concerns. “I understand His Lordship’s concern for his mistress, while disapproving of his actions. He discovered a piece of hemp strung across the top step—high enough to catch the foot of the person who descended the stairway first. Miss Donnel’s fall was likely no accident.”

“Oh, Fitzwilliam, please say it is not so.” She took his hand in hers. “Do we have any idea who may be at fault?”

“I wanted to speak to Lord Stafford yesterday evening, but he remained with Miss Donnel.” Again he paused, and he filtered out what he did not wish to share with his wife. “Mrs. Jenkinson accosted a man dressed in Darcy livery in the hallway to the private quarters. I asked her to view each of our male staff members, but she could not or would not identify the man.”

Elizabeth leaned forward to assure more privacy. “Why would the lady not wish to label the man?”

“I do not suspect coercion,” Darcy confided. “Mrs. Jenkinson has served Anne faithfully for years, and has been my cousin’s closest confidante. I simply believe that Mrs. Jenkinson is, first and foremost, a servant. I fear the lady might not wish to be responsible for another servant meeting my wrath or possibly losing his position.”

“So you think that she might purposely not identify the culprit.”

Darcy frowned, never liking anything out of the ordinary in his life. “At this point, I am unsure what to believe. If I take Miss Donnel’s accident and combine it with all the other unexplained incidents of late, I am at my wit’s end.”

“Should we not share our concerns with the others?”

“Share what exactly?” Darcy stood to pace the room. “All we have are suspicions—a phantom footman or worker and some missing items. I would not wish to tarnish Pemberley’s reputation by spreading rumors of a disgruntled employee.”

Elizabeth watched him closely; she knew Darcy thought best when he was on the move. “Then we simply become more observant.”

“At the moment, I think that best.”


An hour later, the Pemberley party gathered on the south lawn. Darcy assigned two footmen to help. Each of the three male guests took on the duties of escorting the ladies down the hill. Elizabeth rode with Darcy, and so did his cousin Anne. Mr. Worth squired Mrs.Williams and Mrs. Jenkinson. The fact that Lord Stafford took Georgiana by the arm caused Darcy to bristle, but Elizabeth pulled him to one side, assuring him that the man’s innocent attention would bolster Georgiana’s confidence. The viscount knew Darcy’s’s expectations, Elizabeth explained. And as a gentleman, she continued, His Lordship would not offend Georgiana’s sensibilities. Darcy also felt some qualms about his sister sharing the sled with Lydia Wickham. He did not wish to remind Georgiana of George Wickham’s betrayal, but again Elizabeth saw the advantage of the situation. “Georgiana must face her mistakes and grow from them,” she told him. Reluctantly, he saw the logic in what his wife said, but that did not make it any easier to accept.

Repeatedly, the gentlemen climbed the slopes, tugging the sleds behind them. The footmen helped the ladies settle onto the wooden runners. For Adam Lawrence, the innocence of Georgiana Darcy fascinated him. Some man would eventually earn her love and her devotion and be a very lucky man. He could have done without the clinging Mrs. Wickham. The woman wrapped herself around him when they sped down the hill. He enjoyed physically peeling her fingers from his arm and waist.

Mr. Worth respectfully accompanied the two older women. He found Mrs. Jenkinson charming, for although the woman had earlier declared herself too old to participate in the winter fun, she embraced the experience with an unexpected enthusiasm: She shrieked and giggled like a girl enjoying her first outing. Mrs.Williams, obviously more frightened than Mrs. Jenkinson, closed her eyes tightly and said a prayer as the sled hurtled toward the flat land.

Darcy placed Elizabeth in front of him, spooning her body with his and allowing her to help him steer the sled. He nuzzled her neck while he pulled the ropes to turn the sled as it zoomed to the bottom of the hill. Elizabeth screeched her delight, leaning into him and plastering her back to his chest. “That was magnificent, Fitzwilliam!” she squealed as she scrambled to her feet.

He brushed the snow from her. “Indeed, it was.” He caught her hand to lead her to the top of the slope again. “Are you ready, Cousin?” he asked as he set the sled for his next descent.

“I have not done anything like this since we were children, Fitzwilliam,” she confessed.

“It is time you lived again, Anne.”

She hesitated for only a moment and then seated herself behind him on the slick wood. “I am ready, Fitzwilliam, to be that girl again.”

“Then hold tight, Cousin. I mean to give you the ride of your life.” The footman gave the sled a mighty shove, and they were off, the trees a blur as they sped by them. Darcy listened for Anne’s scream, but it never came. Instead, she sang a note of joy—laughter exploding from her. He found that he liked the sound. If Lieutenant Harwood had given Anne the courage to laugh again, the man had earned a measure of Darcy’s respect.

When he helped her from the snow bank, along which they had skidded to a stop, Darcy leaned down to tell her,“You should laugh more, Cousin:You are beautiful when you do.”

“Thank you, Fitzwilliam. Today, surprisingly, I feel beautiful.”

Once, two sleds raced to the bottom. Darcy and Elizabeth won, just barely edging out the viscount and Georgiana. “That was so close,” Stafford asserted. “If it had been my servants helping to shove off instead of yours, Darcy, I believe the results might have been different.”

Darcy laughed heartily. “Maybe so, Stafford—maybe so.”

As the men returned to the hill, Elizabeth and Georgiana waited for Mrs.Williams and Mr.Worth to reach them.“Is this not great fun?” Elizabeth called as Worth helped the widow to dismount the wooden sled.

“Great fun!” he yelled back genially.“It has been too long since I have done anything so impetuous.”

Mrs.Williams motioned him on.“I wish to speak to Mrs. Darcy a moment.”

Worth turned to the hill and the climb once more.

“Mrs. Darcy,” the woman said as she caught Elizabeth’s arm. “I have a problem.” She glanced around to assure their privacy. “My petticoat, ma’am.The bottom of it has come loose. I caught it on the runner’s edge. I cannot go about with a lace ruffle hanging below my skirt. Do you have a suggestion? Should I return to the house?”

Elizabeth glanced down at the offending garment.“Is it just the lace ruffle?”

“I believe so.”

“Can you simply pull it free?

“I do not see why not.”

“Then how about the storage shed? No one will notice, and you can slip in there and free the ruffle before it becomes entirely unraveled.”

“I would be mortified if that happened.”

Elizabeth motioned to Georgiana to precede her on the climb. “Do you need my assistance?”

The woman glanced toward the small outbuilding. “As long as the door is unlocked, I can manage. If you go with me, it will bring more notice. Just tell Mr. Worth that I needed to catch my breath for a moment; he will not worry so much then.”

“I will do just that.”


Thirty minutes later, they all gathered at the bottom of the slope, shivering, but none of them willing to give up the camaraderie. When Elizabeth scooped up a handful of snow and struck Darcy on the shoulder with it, a melee broke out. Soft snowballs struck them all as a mist of snow filled the air, a splatter of white on a brown and green background. “Enough!” Elizabeth ordered as Darcy picked her up by the waist, threatening to dump her in a snow bank.

Deep baritone laughter and soft soprano giggles indicated everyone’s enjoyment. Lydia Wickham suggested a snowman. Again, teams formed, and they rolled small snowballs over and over, the frozen spheres collecting volume and becoming crude circular masses.

Bases fully formed, the men sat about stacking the globes one on top of another, while the women began to search for branches and nuts to use for decoration.