“Of course,” she replied and took his arm. She was curious, but did not press him to explain.
When they arrived at the front of the house, he helped her into her warm coat and cloak and escorted her out the doors. When they emerged from the house, he gestured towards the sleigh that awaited them.
“My driver brought the sledge,” he said with a smile. “Mrs. Reynolds also thought the children would like it, and unlike me, she knew precisely where it was to be found.”
Elizabeth smiled, taking his offered arm, and together they stepped out into the frosty air. The sleigh was piled with parcels of firewood and food, stood ready.
The horses snorted impatiently as Mr. Darcy helped her into the seat. “It is not far,” he said, settling beside her, “but I thought this might be a pleasant way to make an important delivery.”
Elizabeth laughed softly. “What delivery might that be, Fitzwilliam?”
He helped her into the sleigh. Then he took his own place, clicked the reins, and the sleigh began to move, its runners gliding smoothly over the snow. The rhythmic sound of the horses’ hooves and the jingle of their harnesses filled the air as they traveled, the chill of the evening balanced by the warmth of the blankets tucked around them.
They soon crossed onto Pemberley land and arrived at a small cottage with a newly thatched roof. Mr. Darcy halted the sleigh, and together, they gathered the parcels of food and firewood and made their way to the door.
An elderly man opened the door slowly, his face lighting up with surprise at the sight of his visitors. "Mr. Darcy! What brings you here in such weather?"
"We thought you could use a bit of extra warmth, Mr. Adams,” Darcy said, gesturing to the provisions. "And I thought you might like to meet my betrothed, Miss Bennet."
The old man smiled gratefully, his eyes misting over. "Well now. Congratulations to you both! Miss Bennet, it is a pleasure. Please come in."
As they stepped inside, Elizabeth could not help but notice how sparse the little cottage was, but there was a fire burning cheerily in the hearth. Mr. Darcy set the wood near the fireplace, and she placed the basket of food on the little table in the corner. Mr. Adams thanked them profusely and offered them both a spot near the fire. He had only the one chair, so Elizabeth politely declined, and they all stood and chatted for a few minutes.
Mr. Darcy spoke little, but Elizabeth could tell by the way he listened to the older man that he felt deeply for Mr. Adams's situation.
As they rode back toward Hollydale, Elizabeth stole a few glances at Mr. Darcy when she believed he was not looking. She did not think she could be happier to be promised to such a man, for he was not only strong and capable, but also had a compassionate heart.
"Thank you, Fitzwilliam," she said softly, leaning against his shoulder, and though she did not elaborate, he seemed to understand.
The saloon was aglow with warmth and cheer. The Yule log crackled merrily in the fireplace, casting dancing shadows on the floor. The remains of a sumptuous Christmas pudding lay on a nearby table, evidence of the feast they had all enjoyed before she slipped away. The adults lazed contentedly on various chairs and sofas, pleasantly weary from the day's activities.
Darcy's hand moved towards his pocket, but before he could retrieve its contents, a gasp of surprise from Miss Lydia woke them all from their stupor. Everyone turned to see Mr. Bennet holding a sprig of mistletoe over Mrs. Bennet's head, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
“My dear,” he said, “you owe me a kiss. But first, you must take one of the berries, as tradition dictates.”
Mrs. Bennet laughed. “You know very well it is the man who hands a berry to the woman for a kiss, Thomas.”
“Do you trust me?” he asked seriously.
His wife hesitated, but then nodded. “Yes. I do.”
“Then take a berry, my dear.”
Mrs. Bennet reached up to pluck a berry from the sprig. Her laughter turned to a gasp of her own as she realised it was not a berry at all, but a luminous pearl.
Mr. Bennet cleared his throat, his voice soft but carrying clearly in the hushed room. “My Fanny, pearls are said to be the tears of the gods. We have shared many of them over the years, both sad and joyful.” He produced a thin gold chain from his breast pocket and slipped it through the clasp at the top of the pearl. “This is to remind you of all we have been through together.” His voice grew warmer as he continued, “But more importantly, it is to celebrate the happy times to come—ourdaughters finding their paths, grandchildren to spoil, and many more years of laughter and love between us.”
Mrs. Bennet's eyes glistened as she touched her forehead to her husband’s, and everyone applauded. In the commotion, Darcy discreetly slid his hand out of his pocket, empty.
As the excitement settled and the evening drew to its inevitable close, Darcy approached Mr. Bennet. “Sir, might I have a private word with Miss Elizabeth in the library?”
Mr. Bennet raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Elizabeth is to be back in this room in a quarter of an hour with every hair in place.”
Darcy inclined his head and went to collect his betrothed.
When they had reached the library, and Miss Elizabeth regarded him with an expectant smile, he said, “Miss Elizabeth, I must confess I had a similar idea to your father.” He produced a small box from his pocket. “Though I fear my presentation was not as timely and I have not prepared an eloquent speech.”
Miss Elizabeth took the box and lifted the lid.
