“My words are only for you, Elizabeth,” he told her solemnly. “Therefore, it is sealed.”
“Are you suggesting that I ought to seal mine?”
“No, for you do not have the bad habit of tucking important items into your pockets as the boys and I do.”
Her husband rarely lost anything unless it had been moved by someone else. Bennet and Fitzwilliam still lost things on occasion, and Edward, at five, lost everything. “Only because I do not have any. I intend to have Kerr sew pockets into all my dresses and Georgiana Jane’s as well, I shall have you know. You make us quite jealous over them.”
He chuckled and tapped her nose with the end of his letter. “You have pockets in your coats.”
Elizabeth had mentioned once in passing how warm his greatcoat had been, and on St. Nicholas Day that year, he had presented her one of her own. It was slimmer than Fitzwilliam’s, clearly fashioned for her smaller frame, but made of the same sort of materials and very warm. When Georgiana Jane, named after his sister and hers, had shown signs of taking after hermother rather than her namesakes, Fitzwilliam had quietly spoken to the tailor in Kympton. The result was that perhaps the tiniest greatcoat ever made in England had been shortly thereafter gifted to little Miss Darcy. To say that their daughter had been thrilled was an understatement, though her older brothers were not quite as pleased, for now the youngest Darcy could remain out in the snow with them for a good deal longer than she had before, and though her little legs carried her a long way, the distance was accomplished very slowly.
“It is important to have pockets when you are determined to collect every interesting stone at Pemberley,” Elizabeth said fondly, shaking her head.
“Do you mean our daughter or you?”
She laughed. “I will not answer that.”
“The coats are becoming and practical. I shall not apologise for worrying about you.”
It had been some time before Elizabeth realised that her little escapade at Netherfield’s pond had affected him so badly. Elizabeth recalled that day with amusement, but her serious husband did not.
“You worry anyway,” she replied gently.
He shook his head at her. “Read your Christmas letter, Elizabeth.”
“I shall, so long as you read yours.”
He unfolded his letter and began to read, but Elizabeth did not open her own. She watched his eyes moving across the page. Then his lips pressed together. She expected him to speak, but instead, he turned to her, placed a warm, loving hand on her abdomen, and kissed her softly.
Only after a few moments had passed did he ask, “When?”
“Early June, I believe,” she told him. “Is it wrong for me to hope for another little girl?” She nudged him with her elbow. “We women are outnumbered here, and I am still not used to it.”
“Not at all,” he told her. “But I shall be happy with whatever we are given, so long as you and the child are safe.”
“Always the same answer,” she replied with a smile.
“Always the same prayer.” He kissed her forehead and nodded at the page in her hand.
Elizabeth broke open the seal and began to read the latest of Mr. Darcy’s Christmas letters.
The End
Caroline is less than impressed with Mr. Darcy’s choice of wife. Hear her impressions of the Darcys’ marriage inMr. Darcy’s Christmas Letters Bonus Epilogue! Click here: https://BookHip.com/WGGHZNL
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Want more Darcy and Elizabeth at Christmas?
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Excerpt fromAn Accidental Holiday
Netherfield was in chaos. Well-organized chaos, but even so, it was too much for Darcy to bear. Instead of answering a letter from Pemberley’s steward as he had planned, Darcy decided to put it off until he arrived in London. Though it was nearly three and would be dark in an hour, he left his valet to pack up his things and went for a ride. If the weather held, it would be too cold to ride outside the carriage all the way to London tomorrow, so this might be his last opportunity for some time.
As he guided his horse out into the meadows for a bracing run, he wondered how Bingley had fared, riding out so early in the cold. It must have been an uncomfortable trip, but by now he would be settled in his rooms at The Albany next to a roaring fire with some convivial company.
