“You did?” She was shocked. “Did anyone else see?”
He shook his head. “They were listening for someone breaking in, not someone walking out. What was in the sack?”
“Children’s clothing,” she said. “We make them for all our tenants as a gift. I just made a few more than we required.”
Darcy recalled how large the canvas sack had been, and it had been at least half full. Elizabeth had done a great deal of work. He grew thoughtful as he processed her words. After a moment, he spoke softly. “And you have done all this alone? With only the Milners to help you?”
Elizabeth met his eyes, her own filled with emotion. “Not even my family knows the full extent of it. Secrecy is part of the legacy of Christmas House. Those who receive the help do not know where it comes from, so that they feel no obligation or shame.”
Darcy reached for her hand, wrapping his fingers around hers. “Elizabeth, this is a remarkable thing. But you cannot continue to do it all alone. You must allow me to help.”
Her smile was dazzling. “I knew you were the right man for me. I knew it all along.”
“Now I understand perfectly why Ellis chose you as his heir, for you are the most generous-hearted person I have ever met. But I must make a confession.”
“What is it?” she inquired, a bit of worry creeping into her voice.
“I have known about Christmas House for some time—Ellis was not as deft in hiding his work in his final years as he once was. I did not know it was something to be passed on, and I certainly did not know that he would make you his”—here he smiled— “Christmas heiress, but it is very like him to have done so.”
Miss Bennet held his arm close, and they walked in companionable silence for a time, the only sounds the crunch of snow beneath their boots and the distant laughter of the Gardiner children.
As they strolled deeper into the wooded walk, the snow-laden branches of evergreens created a magical canopy above them.
“Last summer, I never imagined I would be spending Christmas like this.” She glanced up at him, a shy smile playing on her lips. “In such a beautiful place with all of the people I love.”
Darcy’s heart skipped a beat. He knew she loved him, but to hear her say it . . . it had not lost any of its power to affect him. He did not think it ever would.
They came upon a small pond, its frozen surface glittering in the weak winter sunlight. Darcy guided her to a nearby bench that had been cleared of snow.
“May I?” he asked, gesturing to the seat beside her. At her nod, he sat down, careful to maintain a proper distance, though his body yearned to be closer.
A comfortable silence fell between them. Darcy reached out to take her hand in his, and she did not protest. Unfortunately, a gust of wind sent a shower of snow from a nearby branch cascading over them at just that moment. Miss Elizabeth let out a surprised laugh and stood to shake the snow from her bonnet.
Without thinking, Darcy stood to assist, reaching out to brush a few errant snowflakes from her cheek. His hand lingered a moment too long, and when she looked up and met his gaze, he found himself unable to look away.
“We should probably return to the house,” Miss Elizabeth whispered, though she made no move to leave.
“Yes,” Darcy agreed, equally motionless.
For a heartbeat, the world around them seemed to hold its breath. Then, gathering his courage, Darcy leaned in slowly, giving her every opportunity to pull away. Instead, Miss Elizabeth tilted her face up to meet his, and their lips met in a soft, sweet kiss, heavy with promise.
When they parted, both were blushing furiously, but Miss Elizabeth’s eyes shone with happiness, and Darcy suspected that his own were betraying a similar sentiment. He took a breath and offered his arm once more. “Shall we, Miss Elizabeth? I believe we should collect a bit more holly for the garland committee.”
After gathering more of the holly using Mr. Darcy’s penknife to cut the sprigs, they agreed to end their time out-of-doors. As they entered the house and divested themselves of their coats, Elizabeth could just make out the strains of a carol as it drifted out to greet them. Mary had barely left the new pianoforte, even to sleep.
“It seems the music has begun without us,” Elizabeth observed.
Darcy winced slightly. “I confess, I have never been one for singing.”
She could not help but smile. Her father had a terrible voice, as did Mary, but it had never stopped either from singing carols. “Come now, Mr. Darcy. Surely you cannot resist the appeal of a carol sung together with family?”
As they stood in the hall, they were enveloped in the warmth and cheer of the festive season. The entrance hall was bedecked with garlands, and Elizabeth imagined she could detect the scent of nutmeg and ginger wafting from the direction of the kitchens.
In the music room, they found a lively scene. Georgiana—who had insisted they dispense with formal titles once she learned of her brother's proposal—sat at the pianoforte, accompanying the singers. Each of Elizabeth’s sisters stood beside one of their Gardiner cousins, the children fully swept up in the merriment,their little voices rising above the rest as they serenaded the rest of the family.
An hour passed in a whirl of music and laughter before Mr. Darcy was called away. Elizabeth lingered by the hearth, though she turned to survey the room. It was almost magical, having so many of her family here.
Mr. Darcy returned a quarter of an hour later, his expression softened by the joy of the day. “I wonder if you would like to accompany me on an errand?” he asked quietly.
