He continued the teasing questions. “Bathing together so your back will be adequately cleaned?”
“Now that is a fine idea! What say we squeeze that in between dressing in our Christmas finest and attending to our customary private celebration?”
She wiggled her brows, Darcy erupting in laughter and flipping her onto her back. “You are insatiable. I love you, Elizabeth.”
“And I love you, Fitzwilliam. Now how about showing me your abiding devotion and passion.”
“As you wish.”
It was over three hours and one extended bath later when a whistling Darcy exited his dressing room. Hair trimmed, face shaved and splashed with cologne, and garbed in an impeccable, fashionable suit of dark blue wool, he exuded dignity and refinement. The jaunty spring in his steps as he headed toward the staircase flowed naturally and did not mar the aura of authority he wore. At the bottom of the stairs he paused, a wide grin spreading over his face before he quickly dashed to hide around the corner.
“Stop! Would you two listen to me? When I catch you there will be hell to pay! Are you listening to me?”
Darcy held his chuckle inside. His sister’s unheeded commands mixed with high-pitched peals of laughter and the stomp of small, running feet. The sounds grew louder by the second until two bodies barreled around the corner. Darcy shouted and leapt into their pathway. They shrieked in unison, but smoothly veered to either side of his legs, their wild rush not slowed in the slightest as they raced by. “Happy Christmas, Uncle William!” floated on the air behind them as they plunged down the corridor, still laughing.
Georgiana rounded the corner seconds later, pulling up short before crashing into her brother’s much larger body. “You didn’t stop them?”
“I tried, but…”
“Never mind! Oh thank God. Richard! Harry! Grab those two ruffians please.”
Yells and laughter rang out as the two men jumped into the fray, making a grand procedure out of capturing the two five-year olds. With a kicking and squirming boy tucked securely under an arm, Richard and Harry walked toward Georgiana and Darcy.
“What is the penalty, Aunt Giana? Twenty lashes? The rack?”
“Mr. Burr was talking about a huge ant hill he discovered,” Richard offered with a wink not seen by the twins, who were now limp and quiet. “I hear that is an ideal form of torture.”
“Mama! We promise to be good!”
“We just want to see the tree!”
Georgiana rolled her eyes. “Everything is ‘the tree this’ and ‘the tree that.’ Whose idea was it to have a tree?” It was a rhetorical question, as the three men knew, and they all laughed. “Just take them to the dining room if you don’t mind.”
“But Mama!” They cried with identical whines and pouting faces.
“We will take you to the ballroom first, how about that? But you must promise not to try climbing the tree, agreed?”
“Yes, Uncle Richard.” Pledged in tandem, and after merry Christmas wishes and proper good morning greetings, Colonel Fitzwilliam and his son jogged away briskly with the cheered boys dangling from their hips.
“Those two will be the death of me, I swear. Why me? The girls are so dainty and mild. Then I am cursed with twin hellions. Now I find out that their father was a crazed child before he became the sedate man I married. Why did he not tell me this beforehand?”
“Would it have changed your heart, my Lady Essenton?” Darcy asked with a laugh.
Georgiana flushed prettily. “Unlikely. But I would have been forewarned!”
“Where is your husband anyway?”
She grunted. “Leaving me to flounder while he hides in the music room practicing the piece we wrote for today.” She brightened, squeezing her brother’s arm as they strolled the wide corridor leading to the north wing. “It is very good, William, if I say so myself.”
“I have no doubt it will awe and delight, dearest sister. And the tree is a fabulous idea, despite the overzealous enthusiasm displayed. Your frequent excursions abroad for concerts and study have paid off in numerous ways, this German custom only the latest inspiration.”
“This ‘German custom’ has been practiced by our royal family for years. Queen Victoria has written of her fondness for a decorated tree. You wait, my skeptical brother. Soon everyone in England will have a tree for Christmas. Once the Pemberley tree is decorated with the glass ornaments we obtained while in Lauscha and the German lametta, silver tinsel, in addition to the ornaments the family has made, the ribbons, and candles, you will be as awed as we were while living in Hamburg and Vienna. The Christmas markets, they call them weihnachtsmärktes, are incredible. I have trunks of ornaments at home, but brought a large box of my favorites.”
“You misunderstand me, Georgiana. I am quite delighted at the concept of a tree. I personally chose the Scots pine hewn and now erected in the ballroom. Days spent on horseback scouring the woods, mind you, before we found a gorgeous specimen that may not contend with your German varieties, but is stunning and will decorate nicely.”
“Are we talking about the Christmas tree? It seems to be the prime subject these days, even to the point of wandering dark hallways and injuring body parts.”
Georgiana and Darcy turned at the sound of Fiona’s voice, noting her amused smirk and Alexander’s wince. Lizzy was walking alongside her faintly limping son and by the twitching of her lips it was clear she was privy to the story behind Fiona’s remark.
“Our son may look exactly like you, my love, and we know his temperament is remarkably similar. But apparently he did not inherit your uncanny ability to sneak quietly.”
“Oh? I have never noticed. He is adequately stealthy when we hunt.”
“Very well! Since I know my humiliation will be publicly broadcast, I may as well recount my clumsiness to the entire family all at once and get it over with.”
Fiona nodded and continued to smile brightly. “Indeed it is a perfect Christmas story. My father will love it!” Alexander blanched, immediately remembering what happened minutes after his embarrassing stumble. Fiona merely laughed and lifted to kiss his cheek. “Do not fret. I promise not to mention how I alleviated your pain.”
Her dimpled smile and wink made Alexander groan and redden. The others burst out laughing.
The formal dining room was nearly filled to capacity. Between the recent wedding of Alexander and Fiona, Noella’s eighteenth birthday, and the advent of the Christmas tree to this year’s holiday, nearly every relative and friend of the Darcys had been invited to celebrate this Christmas at Pemberley. Most were housed in the manor, with every bedchamber in use for the first time in memory. Other friends from the neighborhood would be arriving after church for the tree decorating and luncheon birthday extravaganza. Due to the multitude of people anticipated and the size of the tree selected by the Pemberley groundsmen and Master, the massive ballroom had been converted into a comprehensive parlor, music room, and gift repository.
Breakfast was an organized affair, unlike the usual free flowing manner, with food kept at the sidebar. Place settings were assigned and courses served in a regimented schedule. Of course, this controlled timetable in no way meant that calm and serenity reigned.
The Master and Mistress of Pemberley entered the room arm-in-arm, taking in the gay atmosphere with happy smiles. But before either could speak, the birthday girl’s voice interrupted their thoughts and cut through the lively air.
“As far as I am concerned, Hugh Pomeroy can fall off a cliff. Good riddance, I say. He better not say a word to me or I will give him a piece of my mind!”
They turned to see their eldest daughter flouncing angrily toward them, her face a thundercloud. She was talking to Jane and Mary, both women trying hard not to laugh.
The object of Noella’s harsh dismissal stood several paces inside the door talking to Michael. He glanced up at the irate declaration, but instead of looking worried he grinned and started chuckling. Michael grabbed his arm and forcefully propelled him across the room to a curtained alcove.