Athena considered the paw for a long moment, then graciously pawed at it. Elizabeth felt her heart melt a little at the sight.
“Greetings accomplished.” Georgiana clapped her hands together. “Shall we get everyone settled? Elizabeth, I’ll show you to your room.
“I’ll put the dogs in the back room,” Darcy said. “We have it set up for them when we can’t be around to supervise.”
Pemberley’s interior was even more magnificent than Elizabeth had imagined, but as Georgiana led her through the corridors, she found herself noticing more of the smaller details that made the grandeur feel lived-in rather than museum-like. A pair of reading glasses abandoned on a side table. Georgiana’s music books stacked somewhat haphazardly on a windowsill. A coffee mug bearing the faded logo of what appeared to be a university rowing club sitting on a coaster, both atop what looked like a priceless antique desk.
“That’s William’s.” Georgiana caught Elizabeth’s glance. “He’s had it since Cambridge and refuses to drink his morning coffee from anything else. Mrs. Reynolds despairs.”
“It’s nice,” Elizabeth said, and meant it. “I like seeing how people actually live in a place.”
Her room was beautiful, all creams and soft blues, with windows overlooking gardens that would surely look spectacular in daylight. But the small touches were what struck her first. Fresh flowers on the bedside table. A stack of books that someone had chosen with her tastes in mind. A soft throw draped over the reading chair that looked like it had been intentionally placed there for curling up with tea and a novel. “Georgiana, this is charming.”
“I’m so pleased you’re here,” Georgiana said warmly. “William’s been . . . well, he’s been rather hopeful about this visit. I think he wants you to love Pemberley as much as he does.”
The words sent a little flutter through Elizabeth’s chest. “Has he?”
“Oh yes. He spent ages planning which rooms to show you first, what walks would give you the best views. I haven’t seen him this invested in anyone’s opinion in . . . well, ever, really.”
Before Elizabeth could process this information, a soft thud from somewhere downstairs suggested that the dogs were indeed sorting themselves out with the help of whatever furniture happened to be in their path.
“Perhaps we should check on them?” Elizabeth asked.
They found Darcy in what appeared to be a utility room, watching Waffles try to fit his entire head into Athena’s food bowl while the Great Dane sat nearby with an expression of profound long-suffering.
“Waffles, you absolute scoundrel.” Elizabeth sighed, moving to extract her dog from his position as food critic. “I’m sorry, Athena. He has no concept of personal boundaries.”
As if she understood the apology, Athena graciously moved to her food bowl and began eating with a delicate neatness that made Waffles’s eating style look positively barbaric by comparison.
“I should fetch my present,” Elizabeth said, remembering the wrapped scarf box she’d left in her overnight bag. “Just to make sure everything’s still . . .”
She trailed off, catching herself before she revealed too much about her anxiety over tomorrow’s present exchange.
“Of course,” Darcy said. “Shall I show you where we’ll put everything under the tree?”
Back in her room, Elizabeth opened her bag with growing dread. The neat box she’d so carefully selected was now half crushed, victim of her hasty packing and Waffles’s earlier enthusiasm in the car boot. The ribbon had come undone, and one corner of the paper was torn.
“Oh, brilliant,” she muttered, lifting out the damaged package.
Twenty minutes later, Elizabeth stared down at her handiwork with a mixture of pride and dismay. She’d managed to rewrap the scarf using tissue paper and a length of ribbon she’d cannibalized from the flowers on her bedside table. The result was . . . distinctive. It looked less like a beautifully wrapped present and more like she was concealing something vaguely contraband.
Her novelist brain kicked in unbidden.Plot idea—murder weapon disguised as Christmas present. How would you hide a blade in—
“Focus, Lizzy,” she said aloud, shaking her head.
She picked up the lumpy package and groaned. Next to whatever elegant present Darcy would have chosen for her, this was going to look terrible. Surely she could find some tape and wrapping paper somewhere.
A soft knock at her door interrupted her spiralling thoughts.
“Elizabeth?” Georgiana’s voice came through the wood. “I’m making mince pies downstairs if you’d like to join me. Fair warning—I’m much better at theory than execution when it comes to baking.”
Elizabeth shoved the re-wrapped present into her bag and opened the door. “That sounds wonderful. I should warnyou, though, that my relationship with pastry is complicated at best.”
“Perfect.” Georgiana grinned. “We can be disasters together.”
The kitchen at Pemberley was enormous, all cream-coloured cabinets and marble worktops that gleamed under warm lighting. But despite its grandeur, it felt surprisingly homey, perhaps because Georgiana at once set about making it untidy.
“Right,” she announced, pulling ingredients from various cupboards with the enthusiasm of someone who enjoyed the process more than the results. “Mince pies. How hard can it be?”
