“Elizabeth, are you ready to be to Lambton?” Darcy had found his wife in their joint sitting room. “Mrs.Wickham’s coach should arrive within the hour.”

“I worry for the roads.” She sat on a window box, looking out across the formal garden. “The rain has turned icy.”

Darcy came to where she sat. Resting his hand on her shoulder, he peered through the fogged-up glass. “All the more reason to take our leave now—to give Mr. Stalling extra time to negotiate the roads. Your sister will have no transportation… if we do not venture forth.” He leaned down to kiss the top of her head.“I could go alone,” he volunteered.

Elizabeth turned to gaze into the face she found most comforting in the world. “No.…no…I will bring Lydia here. I shall not send you alone to bring Wickham’s wife to Pemberley. You show me a kindness, my Husband, by tolerating my sister’s intrusion upon your life and your home.” She stood and caressed his cheek.

“Our home,” he corrected. “Pemberley is our home, and Mrs. Wickham is your sister—and mine, too. If you must endure my aunt’s intrusion, then I can allow Lydia’s naïve exuberance to permeate the hallowed walls of Pemberley. As long as I sleep with you in my arms, I am a happy man.Very little else matters in the scheme of things.” He bent his head to brush his lips across hers.

“I love you, my Husband,” she whispered close to his mouth, “with all my heart.”

Darcy smiled mischievously.“I surely hope so, Mrs. Darcy, as we are about to be snowed in with Attila the Hun and Kathryn Howard. If nothing else, the mixture should be entertaining: our own little circus—it will be a juggling act, keeping them apart.”