“You said he was a force of nature with questionable impulse control.”
He shrugged. “That’s also accurate.”
The formality that sometimes crept into his speech and bearing disappeared when he spoke with Georgiana, replaced by something warm that made Elizabeth’s chest tighten with a feeling she couldn’t quite name.
“I’ve brought more presents,” Georgiana announced, hefting a large bag. “And I’m now prepared to be thoroughly spoiled.”
Elizabeth glanced toward the morning room, where the headphones still sat, representing everything she couldn’t quite articulate about her relationship with Darcy.
She’d watched him handle her scarf with such careful appreciation, wrapping it around his neck despite the morning room’s warmth, and she’d felt that familiar flutter of affection mixed with something deeper. But the memory was complicated by her growing awareness of how different their presents were. She’d learned to knit so she could make him something. He’d . . . well, he’d probably researched extensively and chosen the best possible product, but at the end of the day, it was still something he could have ordered online. He obviously hadn’t even wrapped it himself. Expensive, thoughtful in its way, but not personal.
Which was fine. Really, it was fine.
But she’d hoped his present would tell her where she stood with him. Had she made a terrible error putting so much time into her present? Was she farther along in her feelings for him than he was for her?
“William told me about your present exchange this morning.”
Elizabeth’s heart performed an uncomfortable somersault.
“He said you’d made him something? I’m hopeless at anything crafty. I once tried to knit a bookmark and somehow ended up with what looked like a very small fishing net.”
“A scarf." Elizabeth offered Georgiana a small smile. "But it’s not exactly Jermyn Street standard.”
“The best presents never are,” Georgiana said. “Shop-bought things are easy. Anyone can buy something expensive.”
Well, most peoplecouldn’tbuy something expensive, but Elizabeth still felt a small warm glow at the words. She chanced a glance at Darcy, who appeared thoughtful. But then, he always looked that way.
They moved into the morning room, where Georgiana gravitated toward the fire, pulling off her coat to reveal a beautiful cashmere jumper that somehow looked effortless rather than showy.
“Right then.” Georgiana settled into an armchair as both dogs competed for her attention. “Shall we exchange presents? I’ve been looking forward to this for weeks.”
“You don’t exchange them in the morning?” Elizabeth inquired.
Darcy shook his head, a little smile playing on his lips. “We would, if I had my way, but Georgiana sleeps so late that the day’s half gone before she’s up. We switched to Christmas Eve exchanges the year she turned sixteen.”
“Not all of us are up at five every morning,” Georgiana replied, rolling her eyes. She reached into her bag and produced two packages wrapped in brown paper and tied with silk ribbon—elegant without being precious, thoughtful without being overwhelming. Elizabeth watched as Darcy opened his present to reveal what appeared to be a book, something old and important-looking.
“Byron.” He ran his fingers over the cover with reverence. “Where on earth did you find this?”
“Bookseller in Edinburgh. I remembered you mentioning Father’s copy had been lost.”
Elizabeth watched Darcy’s face transform as he opened the book and read something on a card tucked into the inside cover. There was an intimacy to the moment that made her feel like an intruder, witness to a conversation conducted in shared history and understanding.
Georgiana opened her present from Darcy, a vintage music box that had some significance Elizabeth couldn’t parse, and the look that passed between the siblings was so full of mutual affection that Elizabeth felt a sharp pang of something that might have been loneliness.
This was what present-giving looked like when people truly knew each other. Expressions of shared memory and careful attention to what mattered most. The intuitive understanding that came from years of loving someone enough to notice what they wished for before they’d realised it themselves.
She reminded herself sternly that it had only been three months. Part of a serious relationship was building those memories. It took time.
“I brought something for you as well, Lizzy.” Georgiana produced a small wicker basket tied with a cream ribbon. “Nothing grand, just some things from the estate.” She lifted out two glass jars, one filled with golden honey, the other containing what looked like strawberry preserves with actual pieces of fruit visible through the glass. “The honey’s from our own hives, and Mrs. Reynolds made the preserves from berries we grow in the kitchen garden. I thought you might like to take a bit of Pemberley home with you.”
Elizabeth was touched. “That’s so thoughtful, thank you.” She reached for a small, elegant box tied with burgundy ribbon she had placed under the tree. “And I brought these for you—they’re from The Secret Truffletier in Woolmer Green, not far from where I grew up. They’ve been my absolute favourite splurge since I was a teenager. My sisters and I used to pool our pocket money to buy a box whenever we’d done something worth celebrating. They’ve been around forever. Swiss-style truffles. I am telling you, they’re glorious.” Georgiana’s face lit up as she accepted the box, and Elizabeth felt that pleasant warmth of giving something that welcomed Georgiana into her group of sisters.
Mrs. Reynolds appeared in the doorway to ask about a detail for the Christmas morning brunch, and Darcy rose at once to confer with her, leaving the women by the fire.
“He’ll give Mrs. Reynolds and the other staff their presents tomorrow,” Georgiana said as she watched him go.
“He buys them each a present?”
