Mr. & Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy: Two Shall Become One

Chapter Thirteen Christmas at Pemberley

As the long years unfolded, the Darcys would experience a multitude of Christmases at Pemberley. Some would be intimate family affairs, and on other occasions the manor would be overflowing. In time, their children and the children of relatives would exponentially boost the festivities. The traditional Darcy feast for the tenants would resume and occur annually for decades. The Darcy heirlooms would proudly regain their historic locales, along with the candles and greenery and ribbons eventually further augmented by the Christmas tree. The vast majority of the holidays would be joyous gatherings with delightful memories, such as the year Lizzy’s birth sac burst while kissing her husband under the kissing bough on Christmas Eve and the year their eldest daughter became betrothed during the Cole’s Masque. Thankfully the somber years were infrequent, the saddest being the first season after Mr. Bennet passed, although it would also mark the only time all the Bennet sisters managed to gather at the same time.

In truth, this particular Christmas would not necessarily be counted preeminent, yet through the blissful years of their life together, Lizzy and Darcy would agree that it held a very special place in their hearts. The reason was simple: it was their first.

Christmas Eve dawned cold with ominous dark clouds threatening despite having dropped fresh snow in the night. All the guests were slow to rise, preferring to stay snuggled under warm blankets. As there were no particular plans for the morning hours, it mattered not. The Darcys, as host and hostess, strove to attend to their duties and so departed their chambers far earlier than they wished or had grown accustomed to. Darcy held Lizzy’s hand in the crook of his arm as they walked.

Abruptly Darcy stopped, causing Lizzy to collide with him, but prior to her uttering a sound, he propelled her backwards into an empty side corridor.

“What…” she began but he shushed her with a hiss and a finger to her lips.

“The Lathrops,” he whispered, pointing and cautiously sticking his head around the corner. Lizzy peered around his shoulder and stifled a laugh at the sight before her. At the bottom of the stairs, Mr. and Mrs. Lathrop had discovered one of the strategically positioned mistletoe balls and were dutifully obliging the custom.

“What shall we do now?” Lizzy asked her husband with a grin. At roughly the same moment, they looked upward and noted that they too were precisely under another mistletoe ornament.

“How many of these baubles did the maids fabricate, anyway?”

“I believe they were considering all the places the footmen frequent,” Lizzy said with a chuckle.

“Whatever the motivation, it is a ritual with historic dictates that we would be severely remiss to not observe.” Darcy stated firmly, capturing his wife’s mouth equally as firmly in an ardent kiss.

It must have been the day for espying lovers beneath mistletoe, for Col. Fitzwilliam’s chambers were down this very hallway and, with a chuckle, he ducked back into his room and busied himself until he deemed the corridor was clear.

The Pemberley occupants drifted into the breakfast room in spaced interludes throughout the morning, all with smiles on their faces and some with flushed cheeks and downcast eyes. Mrs. Langton and her fine staff had outdone themselves. The morning repast was stupendous with every imaginable type of breakfast cuisine. Mr. Gardiner had readily ascertained, as only a rabid angler can, that Mr. Lathrop shared his penchant for the avocation. Darcy assured them that the trout and other fish well stocked in the lake would happily acquiesce despite the half-frozen water. With obvious zeal, the two men quit the table, not to be seen until late in the afternoon.

The ladies decided a walk was in order. Darcy frowned, noting the persistent gloom and foreboding clouds as well as the slick pathways. He attempted to dissuade them, but Lizzy was insistent.

“We shall take care, Mr. Darcy, I promise. You need not vex yourself,” Lizzy assured him.

“Georgiana,” he turned to his sister, “I will trust you to keep to the safest paths closest to the house.” He glanced at his wife’s faintly scowling visage, pointedly ignoring her and declaring to the group in general in a tone which booked no argument, “Miss Darcy is most familiar with the walkways and knows which are best maintained and level. Please follow her lead.”

Assuring that Georgiana and his wife were properly attired, Darcy pulled Lizzy aside. He buttoned her coat for her as he whispered, “Be careful, love, and return if it begins to snow or rain. Promise me.”

“William, you are being silly,” she began but he cut her off with a piercing look, eyes darkening somewhat, and that small crease of annoyance flashing between his brows.

“Elizabeth Darcy, do not argue with me. Stay with Georgiana.”

“Yes, dear.”

Once outside, Aunt Gardiner turned to her niece with a smile. “Mr. Darcy certainly is protective.”

“Too much so at times, yet it is endearing; irritating but endearing!” They all laughed. Lizzy related their honeymoon luncheon experience and they laughed even harder.

Georgiana spoke then, in her quiet voice, “My brother has always hovered in this manner. I do believe nothing frightens him other than the thought of someone he loves being hurt. He still refuses to allow me to take my horse out without a groom shadowing me even though I have been riding since I was five!”

“I am afraid you are a more tolerant lass than I,” said Mrs. Lathrop, “I confess to being a bit of a rebel. My parents turned gray over my antics. Do you ever defy him, Miss Darcy?”

Georgiana was genuinely shocked. “Never!”

Despite Darcy’s concerns, the ladies had a lovely walk through the snowdusted gardens. Georgiana proved to be an excellent tour guide, pointing out with amazing knowledge the plant and tree varieties. They lingered for a short rest at the water nymph fountain and then Georgiana unerringly ushered them through the hedge maze.

While they rambled, they babbled together serenely. Mrs. Gardiner and Georgiana happily conversed about Lambton and its environs as Violet remembered them from her youth, including her memories of Georgiana’s parents. Lizzy and Mrs. Lathrop established a friendship that would persevere throughout their lives.

“How did you and Mr. Lathrop meet?”

Amelia smiled sweetly. “His family has interest in a sheep farm near Motherwell. My father is a baron of the region, and we were introduced when my father invited Mr. Lathrop to dine with us. It was love at first sight; however, my father required a bit of persuading! He was not too content with the idea of his daughter marrying a Sassenach.” They laughed. “He eventually consented, yet I do not believe he shall be entirely resigned until I have presented him with a grandchild or two.”

“How do you find Leicestershire, compared to Scotland?”

“Have you ever been to Scotland, Mrs. Darcy?”

“No, I have not been so fortunate.”

“It is far colder there. Rainier and very green with heathers and mosses in abundance. I mourn the absence of certain trees and flowers that only grow there. Mostly, though I miss my family. I have two older brothers and three younger sisters. Our house was perpetually loud and raucous. I never imagined I would miss it, but I do.”

“I understand how you feel. I have four sisters and spent much of my time escaping to the solitude and silence of the woods and meadows. Pemberley is beautiful and I love it here, yet it is imposing compared to Longbourn where I grew up, and very quiet. It is pleasant to have people in the house.”

“Even if we are disrupting your honeymoon?” Mrs. Lathrop said with a gentle laugh.

Lizzy blushed prettily. “Merely a brief hiatus, I think. The honeymoon shall continue unabated for a long while, I trust.”

“It is a delight to have made a ‘love match,’ is it not, Mrs. Darcy? I have learned that love often does not enter into the arrangements among the upper classes of England. This was a shock to me as these social considerations are not as important to the Scottish. Mr. Lathrop broke more than a few rules in marrying me, and his father did not approve.”

“I am sorry, Mrs. Lathrop. Was it uncomfortable for you?”

“Initially. My husband, contrary to his gentle demeanor, has a strength and stubbornness of astounding proportions. He tenaciously stayed the course in his devotion to me, and his father eventually capitulated. We established a tenuous peace between us prior to his death.”

“Mr. Lathrop sounds very like Mr. Darcy. Both are tenacious and stubborn. No small wonder they are such good friends.”

They laughed. “They also appear to have similar taste in women, Mrs. Darcy, if I may be so bold as to declare that I think we are quite similar in our temperaments. Outspoken, independent, and with no lack of stubbornness myself, I sense this in you as well.”

Lizzy smiled. “Along with a heavy dose of pride and misjudgment. Flaws that were almost our undoing, yet oddly aided us in coming together.” Lizzy noted Mrs. Lathrop’s quizzical expression and laughed. “It is a long and horrid tale. Perhaps later I shall tell you of it.”

Speaking of her husband and touching on the subject of their convoluted and painful journey toward matrimony brought an ache to Lizzy’s heart that could only be assuaged in his arms. As soon as she returned to the house, she sought him out. She had a vague idea where he would be, and a footman confirmed her suspicion. Upon entering the library her eyes immediately spied him alone and in his favorite chair by the far window, his back to her, and wholly lost in the pages before him. Her heart surged and skipped a beat as she rushed toward him silently on the thick carpet. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind, burying her cold face into his neck. He gasped in surprise and shock from her chilled nose.

“Who is this?” he demanded in mock severity.

“Are there a plethora of women who attack you in the library, Mr. Darcy?” Lizzy began loosening the knots of his cravat, planting cool kisses along his neck.

“No. I must confess this is the first occasion ever.” He closed his eyes and tilted his head to allow her freer access.

“How remiss of me,” she mumbled, “I vowed to kiss you in every room of the manor. I am slipping hideously in my promises. What are you to think of me?”

He chuckled and grasped her hands, pulling her onto his lap. “I will happily aid you in fulfilling your vows, Mrs. Darcy. Lord knows there is probably a mistletoe ball in each room to lend credence to the venture if we are discovered.” He rubbed her rosy cheeks and bussed her icy nose before seizing her mouth in a deep kiss.

He broke away reluctantly, snuggling her close to his body with her head resting on his shoulder. “You all returned safely, I presume?”

“Yes, my dear worrywart of a husband. No one fell or caught their death of cold.” She laughed but he frowned and held her tighter.

“Nothing wrong with being cautious, Elizabeth.”

“Of course not, love, but you must admit you fret excessively on occasion.”

He was silent for a while and then spoke very softly, “I suppose I do worry overly. It is just that… I could not bear to have anything happen to you, Elizabeth, or Georgiana either. It is my responsibility to assure your safety and protection. I fear… failing in some way and losing you.”

She gazed into his eyes and kissed him tenderly. “Forgive me, William. I shall aspire not to try your patience nor cause you anxiety. Nevertheless, you surely realize that you cannot control everything, my dearest. Accidents do happen.”

He shuddered. “Please, love, let us not discuss this now. Hold me tight and kiss me instead.”

She smiled. “With pleasure, Fitzwilliam, with pleasure.”

“I love you so completely, Elizabeth,” Darcy groaned, crushing her against him and kissing her ardently for a good long while.

“Ice skating, Elizabeth? You cannot be serious. Did you not satisfy your itch for outdoor activities earlier today? It is snowing outside!”

“Lightly snowing, William; the small pond is frozen solid, and I never tire of outdoor activities. Besides, I am not an accomplished ice skater, as I am informed you are, so the opportunities are ripe for you to clutch me tightly or perhaps even fall on top of me into a soft snowbank.” She said the last with a mischievous twinkle and he could not stop himself from laughing.

“You are incorrigible, Mrs. Darcy.” They stood in the hallway outside the parlor where their guests were lounging after lunch, except for Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Lathrop. The anglers had apparently lost all sense of time in their pursuit of the elusive fish, so a basket of food had been delivered to them.

She stepped closer to him, fingering the buttons of his coat. “You will arrange this for us, my love, will you not? And join us in our frivolous pastime as my savior if nothing else.” She looked up at him through her lashes.

He smiled, tenderly fingering her chin and cheeks. “My love, I shall likely chastise myself later for confessing this; however, I would doubtless grant you anything within my capacity to give, such is your power over me.”

In short order they were bundled snugly and laced into their skates. Mrs. Gardiner had opted to rest in her chambers, and Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Lathrop were still captivated by the trout pond, leaving Darcy and Col. Fitzwilliam to escort the ladies. Once Darcy relinquished his initial pique, the idea of ice skating actually sounded pleasant. He had not skated in several years and had almost forgotten how enjoyable the experience was. Georgiana had truthfully enlightened Lizzy on her brother’s abilities, which he displayed in a rare example of exhibitionism by effortless gliding onto the ice and rendering a dazzling figure eight with a spin on one foot before grinningly approaching his stunned wife.

“Braggart!” she declared, to which he bowed grandly before taking her hand. He tucked her in close to his side and set a measured pace. Lizzy was not truly as inept as she hinted but had decided to enjoy the deception for now, to the point of already eyeing the snowdrifts along the edge, thus saving the joy of seeing her husband’s surprise later when she smugly revealed her competence.

The small pond, as it was called, was indeed smaller than the other water bodies of Pemberley; it was roughly forty feet in diameter and shallow, allowing it to freeze quickly and easily. The purpose of the pond, Lizzy had been told by Darcy from the upper windows of the manor when he gave her the “tour” of the grounds, was primarily for winter skating and as a summer home for minnows, frogs, toads, and several species of ducks.

They passed a lovely two hours, twirling and floating, as the snow steadily fell in gentle flakes. Lizzy accidentally fell only once, picking a particularly cushy heap; however, her ploy failed. Darcy merely laughed and offered his hand. Once she was safely on her feet, he bussed her rosy pouting lips and slithered away, leaving her standing there with her mouth open.

“Mr. Darcy!”

“Come along, Mrs. Darcy; catch me up! I am wise to your charade.”

Col. Fitzwilliam had surreptitiously observed this little interplay, cataloguing it with all the other amazing actions, words, and expressions he had noted from his cousin, and marveling at the phenomenon. It was as if the Fitzwilliam Darcy he had known all his life no longer existed. No, he reconsidered, that was not accurate. Darcy had always had the propensity to laugh and joke, and was renowned in fact for his clever wit, but always with reserve and caution attached. Very few people, a mere handful in truth, could say they knew the relaxed side of his personality. Richard doubted whether Georgiana could claim to have witnessed her brother in a completely undone state and, with one glance at her shocked yet radiant face as she, too, observed Darcy’s antics, he knew he was correct. A Darcy who laughed boisterously, kissed and touched in public, smiled foolishly, blatantly ignored rules of propriety by whisking his wife off to their bedroom, and who teased and conversed affably was a new creature entirely. Richard could not be happier.

The final crescendo to the afternoon was a snowball fight started by Lizzy with a well-aimed lob at the back of her husband’s head. The game was on with all of them breathless, cold, wet, and smiling brightly by the time the snow began falling in earnest with a rising wind, prompting them to quit the pond. They met up with Mr. Lathrop and Mr. Gardiner, blue lipped and shivering, but also grinning broadly and proudly sharing their day’s results with the group, who displayed the appropriate amount of enthusiasm.

The staff scrambled to draw hot baths for all. Lizzy sank into her bathing tub with a grateful sigh, reclining and closing her eyes as the warm water seeped into her frozen, aching muscles. As she began to drift off into a doze, she was jolted awake by a soft whisper and the sensation of hands grazing over her shoulders and then down her arms. She yelped and thrashed wildly, sending a spray of water flying through the air, soaking her husband whom it was, naturally, standing behind her.

Her panic and anger was rapidly replaced by amusement at the sight of Darcy in his robe, droplets hanging from his nose and chin and an expression of incredulity and mortification flowing over his handsome face.

“Fitzwilliam Darcy!” she declared crisply, “How dare you frighten me this way?” Any attempt on her part to be stern was nullified in part by her nakedness and location, but mostly by the comical and heavenly vision of her spouse.

Lizzy had long marveled at the varying miens of the man before her. Darcy’s aspect could be haughty, domineering, blasé, grave, and forbidding; in all ways a face not to be trifled with. Then there was his tender, passionate, joyful, and smiling countenance, approachable and youthfully innocent. His most adorable face was the one he now wore: his “puppy face,” as Lizzy dubbed it. With his blue eyes slightly drooping, brows knitted, pallor marked, and full lips parted in confusion, he looked more an errant little boy than the Master of Pemberley.

“Elizabeth, forgive me! I did not intend to frighten you. I should have spoken louder. How thoughtless of me! I shall leave you.”

“William, wait!” she yelled with a laugh halting him at the door, although he kept his eyes averted. “You did startle me, which would have been avoided if you had only announced your presence in a less shocking manner. Nevertheless, I am not averse to your being here, depending on what your intentions are,” she finished playfully.

He glanced at her, pallor replaced by a blush, and her smile deepened. How can a man of nine-and-twenty suddenly look about twelve and be absolutely delectable!

“Your bathing tub is quite large… ”

“You purchased it, my love,” she interrupted.

“Yes, well…” he cleared his throat, “I thought at the time that you would appreciate it and that it could easily accommodate two, if such a situation arose,” he concluded lamely, waving his hand vaguely.

“You imagine now to be one of those situations?”

He flashed a grin, meeting her eyes hesitantly. “The maids have to carry dozens of pails, so I merely thought to spare them filling another tub.”

“How considerate of you.”

“Yes. I also recognized how cold you were and thought perhaps the added body heat would be welcome. I would not wish you to fall ill.”

“Mr. Darcy, you are the epitome of English chivalry.”

He was smiling brightly now, “puppy face” replaced by the more familiar one of passionate promise.

Lizzy laughed. “William, you are shivering and the water is growing cold. Hurry up, but lock the door first.”

He needed no further encouragement, and his robe was discarded hastily. He positioned his body behind Lizzy, wincing at the hot water on cool skin. She reclined gratefully against his chest, sighing and closing her eyes.

“Hmmm… This is better. Why have we not previously considered this?”

“We may not have; however, I unquestionably have.”

She was befuddled. “Yet you have not acted on the inclination. Why?”

He was silent and she could sense a hesitancy and slight tension in his body, even as his fingers lightly stroked her arms. She tilted her head to peer up at him and noted a faint blush on his cheeks. She frowned. “William? Whatever is the matter?”

He met her eyes with a level gaze. “Elizabeth, I love you to distraction. You know this, I am certain.” She smiled and nodded. “On occasion, in truth fairly continuously, I am… inundated by my need for you. I do not merely refer to our intimate relationship, for that is only a fragment of my desire for you. When we are parted, even for miniscule periods, I yearn for your presence. The ache is tangible and only assuaged by your voice or touch or simply seeing your face.” He traced her jawline with one finger.

She pondered his serious expression with heightened misery. “Does this yearning and need for me disturb you? You wish it otherwise?”

His eyes widened at the catch in her voice and note of pain, and his hand firmly cupped her cheek. “No, Elizabeth, God no! You misapprehend my words or I chose them poorly. Please, allow me to rephrase. You lend purpose to my life and I am an empty husk without you. My fear is that my… demands could in any way intrude upon you or become burdensome. I frightened you by coming in here, selfishly considering only my desire for you without contemplating if you needed solitude or preferred your privacy. You have had precious little of either since we have wed, and I would not want to be the cause of your dissatisfaction.”

She maneuvered around to face him, water sloshing. “My darling, you are being a baby again.” She smiled and kissed him, happy to feel her dismay evaporating and his eyes softening. “You are forgetting several facts. First, I am terribly forthright, a character trait you are painfully familiar with. If I need solitude, I will tell you. Second, I am as insanely in love with you as you are with me. If we were keeping score, I would venture to guess I have invaded your private sanctuaries and isolation far more often. You need never worry being welcomed by me. Just do not sneak.” She concluded with a precise assault to his ticklish zones, water flying.

The only sure method of halting her antics was to clutch her with strong arms and distract with a deep kiss. “Elizabeth, have I told you lately how utterly amazing you are?” He nibbled along her neck while delicately caressing her shoulders. Oddly enough, at least for the moment, his original intention of fulfilling yet another fantasy by making love in the water was not foremost in his mind. He had spoken honestly regarding his desire for her presence. Merely holding her, knowing he was welcomed and wanted to the same degree, was a balm to his heart. How could he doubt her love? He was ashamed of himself for entertaining the notion.

Thoughts of lovemaking may have momentarily fled his consciousness, but they had dawned with alacrity on Lizzy. Her hands were not content to remain in one area. She ran her palms over his torso, hairs silky and buoyant from the water. Oh, how she adored touching him! Darcy naked and wet was an ambrosial vision. She was ceaselessly energized by his solid, defined muscles, replete with raw power emanating from every pore. His skin was flawless and creamy, as soft as satin, and radiating heat and supreme masculinity. In each line and plane of his perfect body, she sensed strength, protection, fortitude, virility, and intoxicating sexuality. He was the embodiment of all things male and subsequently accentuated her femininity as nothing in her experience ever had. Lizzy knew her love for Darcy was profoundly deeper than merely physical, but, oh, how he aroused her!

She pressed against his chest, moaning softly. “William,” she whispered, “I love you so.”

“My Lizzy,” he sighed, grasping her shoulders lightly and pulling her back a space. He smiled, ran the tips of his fingers over her face, and then reached for the soap. “On your knees,” he commanded quietly as he rose to his. He lathered his hands and proceeded to fastidiously cleanse her body, lingering over each area. Lizzy followed his lead, quickly light-headed from the combined awareness of his hands gliding over her and hers sliding over him. It did not take long for the caresses to become stronger and more intimately focused, sensations raging uncontainable until the urgent necessity to unite as one overwhelmed them.

Darcy frantically clasped her body against his, forcing her to stillness, and kissed her roughly before gulping for air and control as they sank entwined into the slick water. “I do not want to rush this, beloved! I have dreamed of making love to you here for a very long time.”

“How long have you dreamed of this, my heart? And are your dreams being fulfilled?” She leaned down and sharply bit his earlobe, nibbling bites trailing along his wet neck.

“Far longer than it would be proper for me to divulge if I wish to maintain my reputation as a gentleman. As for the content of my dreams… as vivid as they were, none has remotely resembled the reality of your love, Elizabeth. Despite the stories amongst my peers, I had no true notion of the physical pleasure and absolutely not a clue as to the spiritual and emotional gratification I have attained in you, my wife.”

They kissed deeply and playfully. Hands touching everywhere: backs, breasts, arms, necks, faces… slipping nimbly in the filmy water. Oh, the ecstasy! Darcy was a man possessed. Some part of his mind was amazed anew at the love and desire he felt for this woman, his wife. Even throughout the long, hideous months of wanting her, he had not fully appreciated how utterly she would consume his existence or how vital she would be to his happiness.

Further, as he felt desire growing beyond what seemed physically possible, as the torrents of throbbing heat surged through his body, as breathing and heartbeat erratically pounded in his chest, and as rapture dominated and crashed over him, he acknowledged the ignorance and innocence of his former self. In all ways that mattered, he had been born and became a man on the day she married him.

Lord and Lady Matlock arrived late in the afternoon, blowing in with the wind and snow. Now all the Christmas guests were present and accounted for, and introductions were executed. Once again the outstanding Pemberley staff exceeded all expectations and served a lavish feast. The after-dinner activities were fairly subdued, all being fatigued from their daytime pursuits. The gentlemen renounced their usual private entertainments in favor of joining the ladies in the parlor. Hot cocoa and spiced cider was served as an accompaniment to a platter of sweets, fruits, nuts, and other finger treats. Conversation was sporadic and tempered.

Georgiana sat quietly and embroidered. Lady Matlock and Mrs. Lathrop had formed an easy acquaintance, based primarily on the fact that Lady Matlock had distant Scottish ancestry and adored the Highlands. She had visited there often in her youth, as her family owned a manor near Inverness, so they now conversed amiably. Darcy, contentedly sipping his cup of cocoa, sat near Mr. Lathrop in a far corner, the two old friends softly speaking as they renewed their association by reliving memories of bygone days and filling in the recent gaps. Lord Matlock read by the roaring fire, lulled in short order into a doze. Lizzy, Richard, Mrs. Gardiner, and Mr. Gardiner sat at the card table and played whist, the Gardiners teaming up against Lizzy and the Colonel. The card table was by far the liveliest spot in the room, yet even there a halcyon atmosphere prevailed.

Lady Matlock retired first, rescuing the Earl from embarrassing himself by snoring while he drowsed. Georgiana followed soon thereafter. The game ended, the Gardiners the ultimate victors with two sets won to Lizzy and Richard’s one. Darcy and Mr. Lathrop’s conversation had evolved naturally to the topic of their mutual bliss regarding their wedded states, prompting both gentlemen’s thoughts to deviate toward their lovely wives. As the party began to break up, it was clear to the remaining guests where the newlyweds’ musings lay. With gentle smiles of understanding, the Gardiners and Richard extended their good nights. Mr. Lathrop and Darcy claimed their spouses and wasted no time with excessive adieus.

Darcy and Lizzy parted to their respective dressing rooms with a slow kiss, Darcy commanding her to wait for him to retrieve her before entering their bedchamber—a request that puzzled her, but she agreed. In no time at all he entered wearing nothing but a robe, as Lizzy preferred, and assumed the task of brushing her hair. No words passed for some fifteen minutes, each content simply to enjoy the moment. Darcy reveled in the sensation of her sumptuous hair crackling with life in his hands, while Lizzy succumbed to the pleasure of his radiant warmth behind her and the soft kisses and caresses he interspersed while he brushed.

When he spoke, his voice was husky, sending thrills down her spine. “I have an early Christmas present for you, my dearest wife. Do you wish to see it?”

“How coincidental! I have an early present for you as well, and somehow I gather we shall both greatly benefit from our respective gifts,” she replied with a saucy smile. She rose from her seat, turning to face him as she leaned against her vanity, blushing faintly. Focusing on his expectant but puzzled gaze, she continued in an enticing whisper, “Today, my love, you fulfilled a fantasy of yours, to my tremendous pleasure, I hasten to add. Perhaps you would welcome sharing a fantasy of mine?”

He raised a brow and grinned. “As you wish, dearest. I am at your disposal.”

Her blush increased and she swallowed nervously but met his gaze boldly. “Nearly every evening, you enter my dressing room and brush my hair as I sit on my bench. You kiss my neck softly and caress my neck and shoulders with your beautiful fingers.” As she spoke she demonstrated his movements with her own fingers lightly brushing her skin. Darcy gulped, groin clenching. “Time and again I have visualized you proceeding further to my back and then down my arms as you seductively peel my robe away,” and she slowly removed her robe, letting in fall in a puddle of satin at her feet.

Darcy gasped and blinked in disbelief. She was wearing the sheerest, clingiest, and shortest chemise he had ever beheld, thigh-high silk stockings secured with lacy garters, and nothing else. Intelligible speech was literally impossible. She stood patiently, observing with a thrill of satisfaction his obvious excitement. Serenely she glided toward him until there was only the bench between them. Bending slowly until her lips were touching his right ear, she murmured, “Do you wish to hear what I then imagine, my heart?” She sucked his earlobe and he could only groan a raspy yes. “I dream of you loving me here, in my dressing room, too overwhelmed with your need to walk even to our bed.”

He froze in shock, staring at her in incredulity. What she was suggesting was in point of fact a fantasy he had harbored and vividly enacted in his dreams. Like all his more exotic fantasies, he had intended to work toward implementing them gradually as he deemed her receptive. Despite her openness in their intimate relationship and her astounding passion, he nonetheless was flabbergasted that she would fabricate such a fantasy and then beseech and obviously lust after him in this manner! Aghast he might be, but assuredly he was not unwilling to capitulate wholeheartedly to her supplication. A slow, sensuous grin diffused his face.

Happily, so very happily, he granted her wish. As they were learning with each passing day, their love knew no bounds. The joy they derived from each other was intense and infinite, acceptable and expressible in a multitude of ways and places.

Bliss was attained as easily as always, Darcy dazedly lurching to the bench and sinking gratefully as his legs trembled. Elizabeth sat on his lap with her head thrown onto his shoulder. Both were panting in ragged gasps, needing a number of minutes to regulate heartbeats before speech was possible. She turned her lips to his neck, kissing tenderly. “Thank you, Fitzwilliam. I do not have the words. I love you.”

He smiled. “And I love you, precious wife. Feel free to share any other fantasies you entertain. I live to please you.”

She kissed his mouth, chuckling softly. “Yes, you assuredly do please me, husband.” She rose then and exited to her water closet, returning shortly having freshened up and straightened her skimpy attire. Darcy was robed, leaning against the doorjamb, and still breathing heavily.

She approached him and lightly placed her fingers on his shoulders. “You have a gift for me, Fitzwilliam?” Her lovely, radiant face tilted toward his; expectant aspiration already reawakening, to her fortunate spouse’s delight.

He nodded, cleared his throat, and licked dry lips before he could speak. “Yes. Elizabeth, you are breathtaking and I am overwhelmed.” He kissed her tenderly, exploring every part of her mouth before releasing her, clasping her hand and ushering her into their bedchamber. “Close your eyes, beloved.”

He halted and moved behind her, encircling her waist with sturdy arms and pulling her firmly against his body, and then whispered into her ear, “As you wished for, my lover. Open your eyes.”

Lizzy grinned and laughed sensuously. Darcy had fulfilled her request by procuring an enormous bearskin rug and five generous, plush pillows situated precisely in front of the blazing fire. The room was lit solely by the fire and a smattering of candles randomly placed. A bottle of wine and two glasses sat by the rug. She turned in his arms, snaking her hands about his neck and fingering his hair, drawing his lips to hers.

“Happy Christmas, husband,” she murmured as he ambushed her mouth zealously, releasing her eventually as his knees were still weak from the desire stirred by her gift.

“Sit, Mrs. Darcy, and I shall pour us some wine. I, frankly, need it as you have effectively unhinged me.”

She laughed as she sat. “Poor Mr. Darcy.”

He grinned as he handed her a glass. “On the contrary, dearest, I am the luckiest man alive and emphatically not complaining. To us, on our first of a century of Christmases.” They clicked glasses and sipped.

“A century?”

“I did tell you I selfishly intend to live a very long time to love you. After your gift this evening, I believe I shall require a hundred years, if not more, to learn all the delicious ways to please you.” He sat with her between his legs, reclining against his knee. He sipped his wine, watched her fire-burnished face, and absently fiddled with the ribbons tying her chemise together.

Her free hand stroked his other leg where it draped over her lap. Time passed as they drank their wine and each placidly enjoyed the presence of the other, speaking occasionally but mainly silent.

“William, I love you.” She spoke softly and smiled with her eyes as well as her lips.

He bent near, gazing intently into her eyes, and then kissed her gently but thoroughly, tasting the wine on her tongue. His lips traveled to her cheek and along her jaw to her ear, nibbling the lobe and then tickling her with the moist tip of his tongue. “I adore you, Elizabeth. I worship you, I respect you, I lust for you, I admire you, I cherish you, I love you ardently. My wife, lover, companion, mother of my children, my soul, my heart…” His endearments fell fainter until they ceased as he devoted himself to the task at hand.

Lizzy sighed, excitement rising at his intoxicating touch. He pulled away, leaving her panting, and reached under a pillow. He handed her a small box tied with a red ribbon.

“A gift, dearest, although after your innovation and precociousness, as displayed most recently and on various other occasions this past month, I remain hesitant at the wisdom in presenting it to you. I must trust that you will take pity on your older husband and not strive to incapacitate him.” He was smiling as he spoke and Lizzy blushed, even though she had no idea what he meant.

She opened the box and removed a tiny brass key. She looked at him in bafflement. “It opens a cabinet in my study,” he answered her questioning expression. “Only I have the other key. The cabinet secures my most private and personal effects: my journals, letters from you, mementos… and a set of books.” He paused, staring at her as her brows rose and a naughty grin appeared.

“Books? How sweet of you, William. Always desiring to improve my mind. I promise I shall apply myself diligently to the cause and will practice as often as feasible.”

“You minx!” He tackled her and tossed her onto the pillows, lying fully on her and kissing hungrily.

Lizzy did not rouse at the knock to their door but did at the hoarse rumble of Darcy’s voice, felt as well as heard through his chest where her head lay. She stretched and nestled closer to his side, his arms immediately tightening their grip.

“Is it morning already?” she asked sleepily and yawned expansively.

“I fear so.” He nudged her gently, rolling to his side with her in his embrace until he could see her face. “Happy Christmas, Mrs. Darcy,” he murmured with a tender kiss as he stroked her hair.

“Hmmm… Happy Christmas, beloved. Must we rise straight away? Or do we have time to cuddle for a spell?”

“I believe an obligatory episode of Christmas cuddling is in order,” he said with a smile.

With a mixture of joy for the holiday and regret at departing their warm bed, the Darcys embarked upon their day. Lizzy joined her husband in their sitting room, having bathed and dressed, stunning Darcy as she approached in a resplendent gown of cream and emerald green taffeta. Marguerite had once again dressed Elizabeth’s hair elaborately, clips with emeralds and diamonds sparkling nearly as brightly as her fine eyes.

Darcy caught his breath and then smiled expansively. He took her hands, kissing each palm. “Lovely, Mrs. Darcy.”

“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” She curtseyed. “You are quite dashing as well, husband. I believe Samuel and Marguerite are consorting again.” She laughed, fingering the emerald green waistcoat he wore.

“Heaven forbid we clashed. Come, my love, our guests await and I am famished.”

Traversing corridors and staircases abounding with greenery, ribbons, and candles, along with the surfeit of mistletoe balls, the Lathrops joined the Darcys and the Matlocks, all attired in their holiday finery. Christmas greetings flowed. Georgiana, Col. Fitzwilliam, and the Gardiners were already in the dining room partaking of the fabulous Christmas morning spread. Mrs. Langton had cooked three versions of the traditional Christmas pudding frumenty as well as a vast array of sweet rolls and pastries. Further greetings ensued as Darcy went directly to the coffee and then piled his plate with food, pausing for a tender kiss to Georgiana’s cheek.

“Happy Christmas, brother.”

“Happy Christmas, my dear. All is well, Georgie?”

“Very well. Shall be better still once I open my presents from you,” she teased shyly, earning a raised eyebrow.

“Was I required to supply a present today? Must have slipped my mind.”

She giggled. “Nothing ever slips your mind, brother. I have no fears.”

“Or is it that you have been peeking in the parlor again?” he asked with a stern expression, causing Georgiana to blush and stare intently at her plate. Darcy laughed. “Father was not able to break you of the habit, so I shall not try. Nonetheless, you must bear the anticipation along with the rest of us until after church.”

The modest chapel of Pemberley was an old yet beautiful structure located an easy distance from the manor in a small, unnamed village exclusively for the needs of Pemberley’s workers. In fair weather the family would walk to church. Today, however, although the sky was mostly cloud free, the wind was brisk and snow had covered the ground some two inches deep, so the carriages were employed. Lizzy had previously attended services twice with Darcy since their marriage.

The Bennets were fairly regular church attendees, although it was Mary who embraced the tenets of religion most strongly. Lizzy, frankly, had taken church and the Bible greatly for granted. That is not to say she was a nonbeliever, simply that her day-to-day life had proceeded with scant thought to Biblical principles. Darcy, on the other hand, had been raised in a family of staunch Anglicans and was deeply devout. His grandfather, James Darcy, Sr., had met the famous John Wesley and had embraced many of the Methodist’s views.

James Darcy had not gone so far as to publicly break with the Church of England, but he had striven to incorporate certain doctrines into the teachings at the Pemberley Chapel. He had secured their current minister, Mr. Lyndon Bertram, who was then a young man and a pupil of Mr. Wesley’s. The decision created a stir and minor scandal at the time, but James Darcy had that healthy dose of pride and stubbornness that seemed inherent in the Darcy men. Now, some forty years later, Mr. Bertram was an old man, yet hale and with no plans to retire any time soon.

The Pemberley party arrived at the church and was greeted by Mr. Bertram and his wife Sarah. Lizzy liked the elderly couple, Pastor Bertram being a serious quiet man of few words and his wife the quintessential grandmotherly type. Milling about the courtyard were the inhabitants of Pemberley and the nearby communities who attended services here. Naturally Christmas brought forth a substantially larger crowd than normally seen. Lizzy was amused to note Darcy assuming his Master of Pemberley pose, reserved, somewhat aloof, and serious, as he greeted people with a curt nod and isolated comments.

Georgiana, on the arm of her cousin, shyly greeted a number of the wives and children she and Lizzy had met during their visits. Darcy cocked one brow in pleased surprise and smiled faintly.

The church was decorated with holly branches and festive candles. The service itself centered around the birth of Christ, unsurprisingly, with carols and readings from the Holy scriptures as well as a short missive from the Book of Common Prayer and one of John Wesley’s sermons on the Epiphany. To the delight of all, the service ended with a short play recounting the story of Mary and Joseph searching for the elusive inn in Nazareth, live donkey and all, as performed by the children of the parish. It was thoroughly adorable, despite the uncooperative ass and the Christ babe who refused to cease wailing. The entire congregation exited with laughter and smiles of joy.

After church, visiting was brief due to the wind’s resurgence and the threat of fresh snow. Once returned to Pemberley, all retired to the warm parlor, Georgiana hastening to the pile of wrapped gifts in the corner. Darcy smiled indulgently at his sister, secretly pleased at her childish behavior as he was not yet prepared to relinquish his grip on her life.

A light repast of mince pies, scones, plum cakes, tea, cocoa, and coffee were furnished to stem the tide of hunger until the Christmas feast was served in mid-afternoon. Gradually the gifts were passed out, everyone wishing to take their time to prolong the enjoyment. Georgiana was not disappointed, her brother having procured several pieces of sheet music, a stunning brooch of aquamarine, three gowns, and new leather-bound journal with her name embossed in gold.

With extreme effort, Darcy had forced himself not to inundate Lizzy with gifts. He knew she retained a residual discomfort regarding his wealth, their wealth in fact, although she was hesitant to regard it so, and he sensitively acknowledged her delicacy. Therefore, he avoided jewelry or furs or anything else overly expensive, opting for personal items. He bought her books he knew she wanted, a stationery set with her new name printed on the letterhead, two gowns, a shawl of exquisite Chinese silk, and a letter seal with ‘E.D.’ entwined amid the Darcy crest. This latter gift brought tears to her eyes. The combination of her initials boldly and permanently displayed with the ancient family symbol touched her, lending a magnified reality to her station and the history involved. Unfortunately the setting was inappropriate for her to thank him as she wished, so she settled for a dazzling smile and fleeting caress to his hand.

For Darcy, Lizzy felt that luck had been on her side. Marguerite had directed her to a bookstore in Matlock and, after she introduced herself to the owner, he had diligently applied himself to obtaining whatever she wished. Then, while strolling randomly down the sidewalk, she had spied the perfect gift in a shop window. The remaining two purchases had been purposefully sought. Thus, Darcy was jubilant to unwrap three books he coveted: Admiral Horatio Nelson’s Letters and Dispatches, Walter Scott’s Tales of My Landlord, and a volume of poems by Thomas Gray.

“Elizabeth, how did you acquire Tales of My Landlord? It was published not a month ago!”

“I charmed Mr. Stevens. Promised him Mr. Darcy of Pemberley would inform all his friends how accommodating he was. Then I fluttered my lashes.”

Darcy laughed. “Well, however you managed it, I do thank you. This is wonderful.”

Lizzy handed him the smaller gifts: a new dressage horse whip and saddle blanket, and a waistcoat of pale blue to match his eyes, strangely enough the one color he did not already own. Her final gift rendered Darcy speechless. It was an eighteen-inch-tall, intricately carved ebony statue of a rearing stallion with a man mounted. The workmanship was unparalleled.

Darcy sat with mouth fallen open. Lord Matlock and Col. Fitzwilliam leapt from their chairs, converging on Darcy and the statue with combined enthusiasm and expressions of awe.

“Unbelievable!” exclaimed the Earl. “Wherever did you find this, Elizabeth?”

Richard was equally amazed and blurted before Lizzy could respond to Lord Matlock’s inquiry, “It is a Ferrier! You found a piece by Lambert Ferrier in Lambton?”

All eyes were on Lizzy, her husband’s breathtaking in the delight and love they showed. She blushed. “Matlock, actually, at that little shop on Second Street…”

“Landry’s establishment?” Richard interrupted in astonishment and Lizzy nodded. “I have never seen anything of this quality in there.” He whistled sharply. “Fortunate day for you, Darcy. Your wife possesses the luck of the Irish to stumble across a Ferrier in Matlock! Now I am truly jealous of you.” He smiled and winked at Lizzy. Lord Matlock was caressing the statue as if were made of gold, and Darcy continued to stare at her, his eyes teary.

Lizzy was flabbergasted by the response. All Landry had said was that it was a collector’s piece. Lizzy knew little of art, so even if he had told her it was a Ferrier, it would have meant nothing. She only recognized fine craftsmanship in a general way and had been struck mostly by the faint resemblance to Parsifal and her husband in the statue.

She smiled at Darcy. “It surely was blind luck, William, I confess. I merely thought you would appreciate the figure as it mirrors Parsifal and you. I may not particularly care for your horse, but he is an elegant and noble creature… as are you,” she finished in a whisper. Darcy was overwhelmed as the entire room faded from his consciousness. He leaned over, taking his wife’s chin in his fingers, and kissed her lightly. He met her eyes and was further lost. Only the abrupt sound of his uncle clearing his throat broke his concentration, and he blushed scarlet as he pulled away from Lizzy’s lips with effort.

“Yes, well, job well done, Elizabeth, well done,” declared the Earl as he resumed his seat, grinning broadly.

The opening of presents absorbed the bulk of the early afternoon. There was rampant laughter, expressions of awe and delight, and pleasurable conversation. The gentlemen accompanied Darcy to his study, reverently, to select the perfect location to display his statue, after which they repaired to the game room where Darcy skillfully defeated each of them in billiards. The ladies visited contentedly.

Christmas dinner was served promptly at four. The feast lavishing the table eclipsed the last evening’s repast. There was enough food to satisfy twice as many diners: venison, goose, turkey, an assortment of vegetables, gravies, rare fruits such as oranges and pomegranates imported for the occasion, breads, souse, trifle, fruit and plum cakes, and a variety of pies. The remains of their banquet, as well as from the servants’ feast, which would occur later in the evening, were to be distributed to the two orphanages in the vicinity and the neediest tenants on Boxing Day. The courses were proffered in spaced intervals, allowing time for digestion and conversation.

The weather had deteriorated substantially, with snow swirling and drifting as the wind howled. An after-dinner stroll in the garden was unfeasible and therefore deferred in favor of a ramble through the Sculpture Gallery, Portrait Hall, and conservatory.

Mr. Lathrop was impressed. “Darcy, you have acquired some spectacular pieces since I was last here.”

“Miss Darcy, your bust is an amazing likeness,” Mrs. Lathrop exclaimed. “As is yours, Mr. Darcy. Superb artisanship. Mrs. Darcy, will you have a bust sculpted as well?”

Lizzy was genuinely taken aback. She had not considered the notion. She turned to her husband and saw an identical expression of mystification.

“In truth, Mrs. Lathrop, I had not given the prospect any deliberation,” Darcy said. “Thank you for the idea. Mrs. Darcy’s beautiful face should be here next to mine.” Darcy smiled at his wife’s blush.

“Mr. Darcy, I do not believe my husband and I ever expressed how awestruck we were by the art collection of Pemberley,” Mrs. Gardiner declared. “I allege no expertise in the artistic realm myself; however, I adore museums and viewing the works of the masters. Your collection rivals any I have observed in London.”

Darcy bowed graciously. “Thank you, Mrs. Gardiner. My family has amassed the pieces gradually over the centuries. I can personally accept few accolades.”

Paintings and sculptures were scattered throughout the entire manor. Those that graced the gallery were the rarest and dominated by marbles. The Portrait Hall, in truth the long hallway leading to the ballroom and formal dining hall, exclusively housed paintings of the Darcy family. The oldest, from 1438, was a group portrait of Alexander and Clara Darcy with their three children. When Lizzy had initially beheld this painting a week after her arrival at Pemberley, she had been stunned by the resemblance of the eldest son, also named Alexander, to her husband. The boy in the painting was approximately eleven and had the clear blue eyes of his mother, chestnut brown hair, and a serious set to his mouth, all of which were the image of the current Master. Lizzy smiled each time she viewed this painting, visualizing their future son.

The entire hall was a revelation of Darcy features. Blue eyes cropped up frequently. Brown hair dominated, although there was a smattering of redheads and numerous blonds. The men were usually tall and lanky with broad shoulders. Darcy’s chin cleft was a newer attribute, first noted on Emily Darcy, his grandmother, in 1760. Almost universally the men appeared serious and aloof, rarely showing the slightest smile, whereas the women displayed more good humor. Pemberley Manor and horses served predominately as backdrops.

Darcy’s parents had been painted shortly after their marriage, the love evident on their faces, even eliciting a small smile from James Darcy. A later portrait of Anne Darcy and her two children, commissioned two years after Georgiana’s birth, clearly captured a beautiful yet pale and tired Anne. Georgiana was a chubby, adorably bright toddler. Darcy at thirteen was incredibly tall, nearly six feet and grave, with a keen intelligence manifest in his eyes but also a lingering grief. This grief would consume his eyes further as the years progressed, until Elizabeth.

No one commented, but the thought was on all of their minds. Darcy, however, was gazing at his parents and marveling at the absence of pain in his soul. He missed them naturally, and always would, yet the melancholy was no more. He looked down at Elizabeth, squeezed her arm firmly to his side, and smiled charmingly.

Entering the conservatory at the very end of the northern annex was akin to stepping into summer. The snow continued to fall, blanketing the ground and the glass roof, yet the flowers and bushes inside bloomed. The room was perpetually warm and humid, fragrant and colorful. The group impulsively broke up as they strolled among the greenery. Darcy purposefully steered Lizzy to a far corner well concealed by an enormous weeping maple and pulled her into his arms. He held her against his chest and she closed her eyes in happiness, devouring his heat and strength.

“Are you enjoying your first Christmas at Pemberley, my love?” He inquired, resonant voice vibrating in her ear.

“I am enjoying my first Christmas with you, beloved. We could be on the moon and I would be delirious with joy. William, I have not had the opportunity to thank you properly for your gifts.” She tilted her face up to meet his eyes. “The gowns are lovely; the shawl is stunning; you know how I love books; and the stationery set is perfect and useful. Mostly I must tell you how touched I am by the seal. I am a Darcy! I know it is ridiculous, yet I still forget at times. I suppose I have been a Bennet for too long.” She laughed and he smiled.

“Have no fear, Mrs. Darcy, I shall remind you a hundred times a day if need be. I will never allow you to forget you are mine.” He tenderly caressed her cheek, then cupped her face with his hands and lavished light pecks all over her features.

Col. Fitzwilliam’s voice from around the tree successfully quashed any further romantic enticements, sadly. Darcy frowned and scowled at his cousin in annoyance, Richard merely raising one eyebrow and pointedly ignoring him. Lizzy took Georgiana’s arm and, with Lizzy giving her husband an amused glance, the sisters resumed their walk.

“Fine day, Darcy, wouldn’t you agree?” Richard asked with a grin.

“Tremendous,” Darcy replied with dripping sarcasm and Richard laughed.

The remainder of the evening passed in varied pursuits. Georgiana delighted them all on the pianoforte. Carols were sung, Richard adding his talents several times, as did Darcy twice. Refreshments were furnished, although no one was particularly hungry. A rousing game of charades was highly successful, as was a lively round of musical chairs, with Georgiana the ultimate victor. Richard challenged Darcy to a bout of darts. Darcy was fully aware he would lose miserably, to which Richard proclaimed it was healthy to be humbled periodically. Upon this decision, the gentlemen repaired to the game room for port, brandy, and manly activities.

The ladies retired to the parlor, ending what was universally agreed to be a first-rate Christmas with quiet conversation, cards, and a mind-boggling game of dictionary that they were all far too weary to take seriously.

Lizzy retired hours earlier than Darcy, the gentlemen capping their evening off rowdily. She was deeply asleep when he staggered into bed and only marginally aware of him gathering her into his arms. The urge to tease him the next day for his raging headache was potent, but she resisted. After all, she rationalized, fun was had by all and he deserved to celebrate as he deemed appropriate. Instead, the ladies allowed their smug smiles to speak volumes as to their lack of sympathy. Suffice to say, this Christmas would be remembered by all for a multitude of reasons!