“And so we were. Father enjoyed hearing you play, as I do. Please continue.”

So Georgiana played and Darcy listened as the fog and darkness thickened. The ancient tower of a church, whose gruff old bell was always peeping down at Darcy’s house out of a gothic window in the wall, became invisible and struck the hours and quarters in the clouds, with tremulous vibrations afterwards as if its teeth were chattering in its frozen head up there. The cold became intense. It became foggier yet, and colder! Piercing, searching, biting cold that chilled one to the bone. Still, there were those who chose to brave the weather.

The owner of a scant young nose, in danger of being frozen, stooped down at Darcy’s keyhole to regale him with a Christmas carol, at the first sound of God bless you, merry gentleman! May nothing you dismay! Georgiana began to accompany the caroler. Darcy gave a footman some coins to toss at the singer.

“Thank ya, guv,” was the cheery reply, as the lad went off to the next house on the square.

At length, the hour of going to church arrived. Darcy rose from behind his desk, and Georgiana instantly fetched her cloak and hat.

They entered the carriage and made their way to the Christmas Eve service. “You are looking forward to tomorrow, I suppose?” asked Darcy.

“Yes, Fitzwilliam.”

“It is not as festive here in town as at Pemberley,” Darcy warned. “You will be expecting something grand for your Christmas present, no doubt.”

Georgiana smiled faintly at this teasing. What she really wanted for Christmas was a new sister. One with laughing eyes who made her brother smile.

“And,” said Darcy, “you do not think me ill-used, that I have searched high and low for your gift.”