Christmas at Darcy House

“And you as well, Mr. Darcy.” Gardiner gave him a pointed look. “We must discuss this matter another day.” In other words, he would cajole his niece into accepting Darcy’s offer.

Leave Elizabeth when she was experiencing such distress? Every instinct screamed against it. And he had not achieved his objective of telling Elizabeth the truth about Wickham. Darcy started to voice his objection, but Gardiner spoke over him. “You may return tomorrow if you wish to discuss…the future.”

Elizabeth made a noise like a wounded animal, and Darcy’s stomach churned even more sickeningly. How could he have misjudged her sentiments so completely?

Darcy nodded to the man and to Elizabeth. “Very well. I will return tomorrow.” He gazed into Elizabeth’s dark eyes, wishing he could say something to reassure and please her. Wishing he could see some spark of caring in her eyes. But her face was stony as she bit her lip, trying not to cry. Darcy trudged away, his entire body heavy with regret.

***

At this time of year, it grew dark early, but Darcy had not bothered to light any candles in his study. The gradually dimming light suited his mood. The fire had died down, but Darcy had not stirred from his armchair for hours, so the room had grown chilly. He had left orders that nobody disturb him…and now he sat in the chair trying not to think: about Elizabeth, about his egregious assumptions, about the monumental errors that had brought events to this head. Sleep would be the best remedy, but he feared dreams populated by Elizabeth.

His thoughts turned in circles like a dog chasing its tail. Where had he first gone wrong? Was it at the Meryton assembly? Or was it when he left Hertfordshire without declaring his feelings for Elizabeth? Perhaps it was his failure to warn Elizabeth immediately about the danger that Wickham posed.

No. He was deluding himself if he thought anything was to blame except for his arrogant assumption that she returned his attraction. If he had suspected Elizabeth harbored reservations, he had assumed her doubts would be quelled by his fortune.

Both his hands clenched into fists. Whatever he had done, however he had arrived at this place, Darcy was certainly guilty of ruining both of their lives.

By compromising her, Darcy had inevitably tied their lives together. Tied his life to a woman who did not want him. He could tolerate ruining his own life; after all, it was his to ruin. But being the instrument of destroying the life of the woman he loved…

That thought seemed to crush his lungs in an iron grip, making it difficult to breath.

That was the point when he usually gave up on thinking altogether. Or attempted to.

Without so much as a knock, the door was flung open. Light flooded in from the hallway. Darcy started and then twisted around in his chair to growl at whoever was disobeying his orders. Georgiana stood in the doorway with his cousin, Richard Fitzwilliam, behind her.

This did not bode well. They could not be as easily deterred as servants.

Darcy turned back toward the fire without a word, but they ignored the hint. Their footfalls were muffled by the carpet as they approached his chair. Georgiana spoke to Richard as if Darcy were not in the room. “He has been holed up in here for hours. Not working. Not reading. Not even lighting the candles.”

Richard leaned over to scrutinize his cousin, his face inches from Darcy’s. A move designed to provoke a reaction, which it did. With a hand on his chest, Darcy forcefully pushed his cousin away. A corner of Richard’s mouth curved upward as he addressed Georgiana. “It is good you sent for me. Will you light the candles? I shall get a blaze started.”

Remaining immobile, Darcy watched as his cousin stacked wood on the dying embers and coaxed flames into life. Damnation. Summoning Richard had been a clever thought. Darcy could have ignored Georgiana and ordered her to leave him alone; she was still the younger sister. But experience had taught Darcy that Richard would not suffer being ignored.

Once the candles were lit and a fire was warming the room, Richard strolled to the sideboard and poured a glass of port. Handing it to Darcy, he instructed, “Drink it all.”

Getting foxed sounded like a capital idea to Darcy, so he consumed it in three gulps and held out his glass for more. However, no more port was forthcoming, and Darcy did not have the energy to obtain it of his own accord.

Instead, Georgiana and Richard took seats on either side of his chair, bracketing him in. “Darcy, can you tell me what is the matter?” Richard asked gently.

“Everything is fine, Richard. Go away.”

Richard rolled his eyes at Georgiana. “You did not warn me that he would sound like a sulky child.”

“Earlier he would not speak at all,” she countered. “This is progress. I pray you, continue.”

“I will not depart until you speak with me,” Richard warned Darcy. “You might as well concede defeat now.”

Darcy continued to stare at the fire. “I have no need or desire for conversation.”

Richard leaned back in his chair. “Very well. I shall converse with Georgiana.” Darcy’s sister chuckled. “I pray you, fair cousin, tell me in great detail about your last shopping trip with my mother. Did you purchase a new hat?”

Georgiana immediately caught on to his scheme. “I did indeed,” she said with a grin. “It is blue, although Aunt Mary thought the green would suit me better. But I loved the feathers in the blue hat. Then I found the most exquisite lace. I thought it too dear, but Aunt Mary said I would not find such fine lace again in my lifetime, so I should purchase it while I could. I believe I will have it affixed to the new gown I am having made up for the dinner at the Randalls’. Or perhaps I will save it to be part of a ball gown for my coming out year. It really is so fine! Then we went to Madame Ballard’s shop, and she had the daintiest gloves in a white kidskin—”

Darcy’s patience was worn out. “Enough!” he bellowed. Georgiana giggled; they were enjoying themselves a little too much.

“Are you prepared to tell us what happened, or shall I torture you with details about dancing slippers?” she asked. When Darcy did not respond, she leaned forward anxiously. “Does this have to do with Miss Bennet?”

Darcy sighed at the sound of her name. Perhaps appearing to cooperate would be the best way to e