Chapter Eleven #2
It started as a small sound like a chuckle but grew into something open and helpless that transformed his entire face. Elizabeth felt the knot in her shoulders loosen as she watched him survey his destroyed belongings with nothing but amusement.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, but his laughter was contagious. “I’ll pay for cleaning, or replacement, or—”
“Don’t,” he said, shaking his head and waving a hand at Waffles. “It’s just . . . look at him. He’s such a little terror, but he’s so happy about it.”
Elizabeth knelt to extract Waffles from the suitcase, then began gathering scattered items. “Let me help you repack. It’s the least I can do.”
Darcy’s packing system was as meticulous as she’d expected. Everything had its place, clothes were folded with sharp creases, toiletries organized by some system she couldn’t decipher but found oddly touching.
She wanted to talk to him about the headphones. Given the kissing, maybe she was working herself up over nothing. Or maybe he thought they were just having a good time.
Argh. This was driving her mad. She opened her mouth to speak.
“William! Elizabeth!” Georgiana’s voice drifted up from downstairs. “Have you found them?”
They looked at each other across the half-repacked suitcase, and Elizabeth saw her own frustration reflected in Darcy’s expression. Every time they got close to having an actual conversation, the universe seemed determined to interrupt.
“We should go down,” she said.
“Yes.”
They returned to the drawing room to find Georgiana perched on the sofa, a small tower of presents arranged before her as though Waffles’s earlier romp had never happened. Athena lay nearby, sphinx-like, one paw resting protectively on a neatly wrapped box as though daring anyone to take it.
“Finally,” Georgiana said, all wide-eyed innocence. “I was beginning to worry the glasses had eaten you both alive.”
“They were not in either cupboard,” Darcy informed her as he reclaimed his seat. “Care to explain?”
“Maybe I left them in my room,” she said in a blithe tone that guaranteed she had not. Then, before he could argue further, she shoved a package into his hands. “Here. Start with this.”
Elizabeth laughed at Georgiana’s complete unconcern and settled back against the cushions, watching as Darcy unwrapped a slim leather notebook. It was bound in dark green, the initials W.D. embossed in understated gold on the cover.
“For jotting things down when you’re walking the grounds,” Georgiana explained. “You’re always stopping to make notes on your phone, and I thought it might be nice to have something you wouldn’t forget to charge. Just in case.”
Darcy traced a finger over the gold letters, his expression softening. “It’s perfect, Georgie. Thank you.”
“And this one is for Elizabeth.” Another box, smaller, wrapped in red paper. Inside was a delicate porcelain cup painted with tiny violets.
Elizabeth’s throat tightened. “It’s beautiful.”
“It’s from the village market,” Georgiana said, pleased. “One of the local artists makes them. I just thought it was pretty.”
Elizabeth met her gaze, struck by how easily Georgiana included her, how little hesitation there was in the gesture. “I love it. Thank you.”
More packages followed, each one thoughtful rather than extravagant.
A pair of impossibly soft wool socks for Elizabeth, dyed in shades of lavender and moss.
A set of hand-stitched bookmarks for Darcy, each with a different motif.
A framed sketch of Athena and Waffles sleeping nose to nose, which caused Darcy to cough suspiciously while Elizabeth marvelled at Georgiana’s obvious talent.
“How did you even—” Elizabeth began to ask.
“I asked William for a picture. He took one on his phone.”
The moment lingered, warm and golden, before Georgiana broke it with a brisk clap of her hands. “Well. That’s the lot. And before either of you scold me about overspending, I’ll remind you that I am quite capable of affording Christmas presents.”
Darcy sighed. “I know how capable you are, Georgie. But you don’t need to spend your money on me.”
“One day I’ll have a husband and a family and maybe I won’t. But for now, just enjoy it.”
Darcy turned to Elizabeth. “She doesn’t confine her presents to Christmas.”
She grinned. “I’ve heard that’s a family trait.”
Georgiana rolled her eyes. “What good is money if we can’t spend it on the people we love?”
“Charities are a good start, I hear,” Darcy answered drily.
“As if I don’t donate on the regular.”
Elizabeth watched them bicker good-naturedly and broke in before it escalated. “I don’t think I’ve ever asked what you do, Georgiana.”
Georgiana smiled. “William hates when I mention it, but our father left Pemberley in a trust and gave him lifetime use of the property. He left me a different trust with money.”
“He was wrong to do that,” Darcy said and turned to Elizabeth. “Pemberley is worth far more than the amount put aside in her trust.”
“But you have to pay enormous taxes on the trust and it takes more work to keep it profitable,” Georgiana replied. She addressed Elizabeth. “So, you see, it wasn’t a present in the proper sense. More like a perpetual responsibility. Along with the guardianship of his much younger sister.”
“I think Pemberley is the best present I’ve ever heard of,” Elizabeth said with a little smile.
“Oh, it’s a privilege, to be sure.” Georgiana reached for another cup of coffee. “But one we have to work diligently to keep.”
“That’s the truth. So, I asked Georgie to legally join the trust when she turned eighteen—”
“And when I did, he stipulated that I was entitled to 50% of whatever was left after all the expenses were paid. I told him that before I signed off on that, he would have to take my inheritance back and use it for Pemberley. And now we’re in it together, fifty-fifty.”
Elizabeth looked at Darcy, who still seemed exasperated that his sister hadn’t kept her inheritance to herself instead of using it for Pemberley’s benefit—and his. How very like him. “Did he argue with you about it for long?”
“A month or so, but I flatly refused to sign the papers adding me to the Pemberley trust until he promised to take the funds.”
Darcy wasn’t the only stubborn member of his family. Elizabeth quite approved.
“I still say that you didn’t need to sink your money into the estate trust,” Darcy said.
“It was a risky step.” He turned to Elizabeth.
“The taxes are a constant source of concern. It’s why our grandfather put the estate in a trust. The taxes are a good deal lower, and having most of the land tied up in agricultural uses helps a good deal, but every ten years there’s a rather substantial bill to pay. ”
“I suppose that’s why you studied finance?” Elizabeth asked him.
“I do enjoy it, but yes, that’s the primary reason.” He smiled a little bashfully at her. “I always knew I’d need to run Pemberley as a business to keep it in the family.”
“But with your head for numbers and mine for event planning, we have both reaped the rewards that feed my present-giving habits.”
Darcy shook his head before changing the topic a little.
“Georgie studied both music and business at university. She’s been in charge of all the major events we hold here for two years now, and she’s started a classical music festival that brings in musicians from all over the world.
Last year it made us enough to run the house for the next twelve months.
And it’s not the only large event she’s planned. ”
“I love it,” Georgiana said. “I don’t think I could have found a better job for me.”
“I couldn’t do it without you,” Darcy said.
His sister waggled her eyebrows. “Don’t I know it.”
Elizabeth's laugh was soft. “I love everything about this story. Do you do smaller events too, like weddings? It’s so beautiful here.”
“In the shoulder months,” Darcy said. “We make too much on the larger events from May to August to tie up the property for smaller ones.”
Elizabeth found this all rather fascinating. “And in the winter?”
Georgiana answered this one. “We allow the Kympton and Lambton communities to hold a few tours and holiday fundraisers for free, provided they carry their own insurance, but we don’t run any events ourselves. It’s our time to enjoy the property.”
Elizabeth smiled at that, picturing Pemberley’s great house quiet at last, its rooms belonging only to the family after months of visitors.
They had made a life after the loss of their parents, stitching routine to tradition, generosity to good sense, until the house itself seemed to rest on their habit of looking after things: music and ledgers, dogs and dinners, each other.
She didn’t know what she would do without her own family to catch her when she slipped; the thought of standing up after loss and stubbornly carrying on felt like lifting a weight she wasn’t sure she could bear. But they had borne it.
“More coffee, Elizabeth?” Georgiana asked, and filled the cup that Elizabeth held out. “The secret to running Pemberley, I’ve learned, is excellent coffee and refusing to let your brother take himself too seriously.”
Darcy gave his sister a look of mock-offense. “I’m sitting right here.”
She smiled at him. “I know,” she said.