Christmas at Darcy House

Elizabeth had her hands crossed over her chest as if to protect it from further inappropriate advances on his part. Tears glistened in her eyes, but she did not weep. In fact, she appeared liable to punch him again. He would let her. He deserved it.

And he would do it all again in a heartbeat.

Mr. Gardiner stepped forward, attempting to take charge of the situation. “Mr. Darcy!” he thundered, his body shaking in indignation. “How dare you treat my niece in such an infamous fashion? I-I ought to have you arrested!”

No doubt if Darcy were someone else, Gardiner would have him arrested; rank did have its privileges.

Darcy felt the heat rising in his face. It was difficult to defend himself when he knew his behavior was wrong, but he had done what was necessary to save Elizabeth. “I apologize to you, Mr. Gardiner, and to you, Miss Bennet.” Elizabeth’s eyes were averted from him. “I-I did not arrive with the purpose of engaging in such indecent behavior. But I…”

His words trickled to a halt. How could he possibly explain it? The truth—“I was saving your niece from Mr. Wickham”—would be both difficult to explain and readily denied by the man himself. “I did what was necessary,” he finished finally.

“Necessary?” Gardiner spat out. “You have compromised my niece! What necessity could possibly provoke such actions? You may be accustomed to enjoying such licentious behavior with impunity, but I assure you, sir, that it is not acceptable in my house!”

Darcy’s shoulders stiffened, and he reminded himself that the man had every right to his indignation. But he did loathe the assumption that he was a rake of the first order. “I am prepared to do my duty to Eliza—Miss Bennet,” he said.

Gardiner’s eyebrows shot up. Had he truly expected that Darcy would not do right by her?

“You will stand by that?” Gardiner asked, his eyes narrowed.

These aspersions on his character were growing more difficult to overlook. “I have said that I will,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Wait!” Wickham cried. “Elizabeth is my betrothed. Darcy cannot have her.”

Gardiner’s jaw dropped open. “Your betrothed?”

“I offered marriage to Elizabeth, and she accepted!” Wickham cried, aggrieved.

Mrs. Gardiner glanced at Elizabeth, who nodded slowly.

Wickham was warming to his indignation. “And then Darcy comes out of nowhere and starts kissing her and…and…other things!”

Darcy was secretly amused that even Wickham could not bring himself to say “held her waist” to the Gardiners.

“Yes, I noticed,” Gardiner said dryly. His hard gaze fixed on Darcy again. He clearly viewed Darcy as the enemy here.

“I have a prior claim!” Wickham cried.

Gardiner raised an eyebrow at the younger man. “I will not have my niece haggled over like the last potato at the dinner table.” Wickham subsided with a sulky scowl. “The fact of the matter is,” Gardiner continued, “that your engagement was not of long standing, having been agreed upon by the principals, what? Only five minutes ago?”

Wickham’s head jerked up. “But—!”

“And you have not gained my approval or Mr. Bennet’s,” Gardiner went on more forcefully. Wickham said nothing but glared mutinously at Darcy.

“In the meantime, Mr. Darcy has committed violations upon her person which would make it difficult for Elizabeth to marry anyone else.” His formidable stare was turned on Darcy. No doubt Gardiner was aware of stories about men deliberately compromising a woman so she would be forced to marry him. Such situations were rare but not nonexistent. However, they usually involved a penniless gentleman and a lady with a large dowry—and no doubt such incidents often took place with the lady’s knowledge and consent. Gardiner frowned, trying to puzzle out why Darcy would deliberately compromise a woman with no prospects, but Elizabeth was worth so much more than any fortune.

“No!” Elizabeth cried, a piteous sound that shriveled Darcy’s insides. “No!” The second cry was more forceful. “I did not consent to the-the attack!”

Attack? How could she think of our first kiss that way? It had been a spectacular kiss, and of long duration. Darcy’s lips still tingled, and his body retained the impression of Elizabeth pressed against him. Had she not enjoyed it even a little?

Beckett apparently thought the same. “She looked to be returning the kiss,” the manservant murmured to the maid. “Didn’t you think she was returning it?” She nodded with a barely suppressed smile. Apparently, this was better entertainment than Drury Lane.

Gardiner scowled at his servants and then glared at Darcy. “How can you possibly excuse this abominable behavior?”

Darcy straightened his shoulders, reminding himself that he was still master of Pemberley—even with a bloodstained handkerchief at his lip and a horrified woman staring at him. “I did what was necessary. Miss Bennet cannot marry Mr. Wickham. He is a blackguard of the first order and would ruin her life.”

Elizabeth gasped. “So this farce”—she gestured to everyone present—“is to prevent me from marrying George because you hold a grudge against him?”

George? Darcy winced.