Happy Christmas from the Darcys

Lizzie and Darcy return to share their first Christmas as a married couple. Enjoy Happy Christmas from the Darcys

Due to high demand (pleading) for just one more book in the series – Lizzie and Darcy invite all friends and fans to their first Christmas as Mr. & Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy.

With the best of intentions Elizabeth Darcy plans a surprise Christmas Eve for Fitzwilliam Darcy at their London penthouse. How much chaos will little urchin Annie and her seven siblings, plus the entire Bennet clan, bring to One Snyde Park? Add two basset hounds, one borzoi, a shaggy otter hound, and a disheveled nun who bears a striking resemblance to Caroline Bingley; then stir in some holiday magic and you have a Happy Christmas wish from the Darcy home to yours.

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With the best of intentions Elizabeth Darcy plans a surprise Christmas Eve for Fitzwilliam Darcy at their London penthouse. How much chaos will little urchin Annie and her seven siblings, plus the entire Bennet clan, bring to One Snyde Park? Add two basset hounds, one borzoi, a shaggy otter hound, and a disheveled nun who bears a striking resemblance to Caroline Bingley; then stir in some holiday magic and you have a Happy Christmas wish from the Darcy home to yours.

Excerpt:

Christmas Eve

See that Christmas tree lying on its side? It’s not the nouvelle cuisine in holiday decorating in the Darcy household; nor are those two less-than-adorable-at-this-moment basset hounds tethered by a garland, standing in as reindeer for a false-bearded Father Christmas. And those small children running about are not workshop elves. They are the Jones siblings, including Darcy’s favorite, Annie, part of the surprise I planned for his welcome home from an arduous and secretive business trip.

Chaos reigns this Christmas Eve as my darling husband enters his normally quiet domain in our London penthouse in One Snyde Park, the most secure building—until now—in all of England.

The gently falling snow continues to build on Knightsbridge Road, and for all the hustle and bustle of last minute shoppers it is still a quiet contrast to the bedlam created indoors by eight hyper children giddy on chocolate, and two basset hounds excited at having children to chase.

The tree had been a glorious creation, stretching twenty feet to the ceiling, with a smiling angel perched on top. Now the angel is in one of the security guards hands, and the body of the tree sprawls across the living room. Our housekeeper Mrs. Reynolds is carefully cleaning up while Georgiana, Richard and I keep the children and the bassets out of the shattered glass.

This is not exactly the way I intended Christmas Eve to unravel.

“Lizzie!” Darcy calls from the living room doorway. Excuse me while I greet him with a kiss and an explanation. Every time I look at him I am amazed that this man fell in love with me—a humble dog psychologist. Darcy calls it destiny, or did he mean destruction?

When we first met, Darcy was a new client with a sour attitude. I had no idea as I began to train his adorable basset hounds, Derby and Squire, that Darcy was silently falling in love with me. I wasn’t interested in him—honest! I merely wanted to build my canine practice.

Darcy loops his arm around my shoulder and leans in to kiss my cheek, while whispering in my ear. “What the dickens is going on? And where is Matthew? I can see Edward, but where is the other guard?”

Watch me bat my eyes. That always gets him. “This is a surprise Christmas Eve party—for you. I gave Matthew the night off. It seems he has something very important brewing.”

Darcy looks grumpy. Must have been a bad trip. My husband is occasionally cranky when dealing with his overseas customers. Can you imagine that I once thought him to be a pompous pill? Darcy does make a poor first impression personality-wise, but I was entirely wrong in my initial judgment of him. He carries a lot on his mind, some of which I am privy to and some I can only guess at.

“Jane and Bingley are here with baby Elizabeth,” I mention them as a peace offering.

“I’ll greet them in a bit, but first I need a drink,” he turns toward the bar unaware that Boris is sitting within inches of his feet. Darcy manages to catch himself as he stumbles over the Russian wolfhound. The canine James Bond shoots Darcy a glare, which he returns in kind. “Get that dog a lady friend! I am tired of his clinging to you!”

Boris mutters a low growl.

You can see one of my problems—the borzoi and Darcy are both madly in love with me. They just have trouble tolerating each other.

“Stay!” I shush the dog and follow Darcy. I am wearing my pink poodle slippers and manage to trip over a child. I think it was Annie’s brother, Duffy, tussling with her otter hound Sammy. Whoever it was has run off.

“We made wassail.” I pour Darcy a cup and attempt to hand it to him “Careful not to burn your mouth.”

“I could really use a stiff drink, first.” He bolts back a glass of scotch and then accepts the holiday hot cider brew. The word wassail means good health and I hope, good mood.

“Tell me who our guests are. Is that your parents dancing behind the fallen tree?”

Notice the incredulous look on his face?

That is my mother slow dancing with my father. Aren’t they cute, embracing in the sputtering half-glow of the fallen tree? Yes, that is a baby bump between them. Mother is expecting a boy in January! Does that not tickle your heart? I am to have a baby brother—at my age!

What a magical place Pansy Cottage turned out to be. After a few clandestine meetings at the cottage, my parents discovered they were still in love with one another. Jane and I have vacated grandmother’s cottage. Father and Mother use it for their regular rendezvous now as it adds an element of the forbidden and gives them privacy from the servants. It is a poorly kept secret.

I kiss Darcy’s cheek as I see him warming to our guests. “Don’t my parents look at least a decade younger then when you last saw them? Are they not terribly dreamy? The doctor says Mother is healthy as a horse and should have an easy delivery since this is baby number six.”

He kisses the top of my head. “Who would have dreamed it?”

Look at them. Mother has been an entirely different person and I must say the change is most welcome. She dotes on Father and he in turn seems to have…well…grown a spine. He is a new man and has even taken Lydia under control! Who could have imagined he could get that minx to obey him?

At first my youngest sister walked around with her mouth hanging open—stunned at Father’s new authoritative stance—but now she has adjusted—as much as she ever will adjust. Of course Kitty followed Lydia’s example. As the Bennets always say, whither Lydia goes, Kitty is soon to tag along.

You might wonder about the fifteen rescue greyhounds I shelter at Pansy Cottage. I hired a wonderful retired chap, Harry Potts, who cares for them as if they were his children.

Darcy gazes around the room taking in the number of guests. He runs the total against the strict security at One Snyde Park. “How did you get this many guests in without my authority?”

“Don’t blame your guards. It was done in the spirit of Christmas and not in the sneaky way Caroline Bingley used to breech your walls—until we tucked her away.”

I should resist mentioning the witch on Christmas Eve. Happily she is ensconced in a cloistered convent in Scotland. Oh—you did not know? That woman has been under the care of Sister Dorothea at the Our Lady of Perpetual Patience nunnery for months. But that’s another story.

“Let’s go stand at the window, darling. It will give us a moment to chat in private.” I tap my husband’s arm.

Darcy turns to follow me but at that moment, Annie’s brothers, John and Chip free Derby and Squire from the tree’s garland trimming. The bassets are overjoyed to see their master and rush at him, tripping over their ears and thudding along the marble and carpet floor.

Watch how they respond to his touch, rolling on their backs and exposing their bellies. I can identify with them. Darcy stoops to rub their tummies and lecture them about their behavior. Being an expert at dog-think, I know they are not understanding any part of his reprimand and are quite satisfied to have brought down the threatening tree.

“Mr. Darcy!” Annie shrieks and rushes at him while he is still in a stooped position. The impact of an eight-year-old child running at full speed knocks Darcy flat over. She plants a kiss on his cheek and then braces her patent leather shoes in a vain attempt to pull him to his feet. The red ribbon falls from her blonde curls as she tugs trying to right him.

Darcy is putty in the child’s hands. We met Annie at this time last year and she has become a part of our extended family. The four Jones girls performed as flower girls at Jane and Bingley’s wedding. They so enjoyed it that Annie formed her own little business supplying professional flower girls for weddings. Thus far, her only other clients have been Darcy and me at our marriage.

If you met Darcy outside our home, you might think of him as aloof, but that is his way. He is a true knight of the realm and a quiet hero who keeps his emotions in check in public. I help him whenever I can even if he doesn’t ask for my assistance. He’s not always thankful for my aid but eventually he sees things my way.

Watch when I kiss his neck. That gets him warmed every time. “I know I have a tendency toward unpredictable behavior, but I wanted to surprise you by inviting the entire clan. I pulled in some favors from security.”

Darcy sips his wassail and shoots me one of his superior looks. “You know I shall have to fire my bodyguards and request the building security do a detailed check to tighten up their procedures.”

“Or you could just be nice about it and enjoy the holiday. Now button those delicious lips and drink your wassail.”

“That is a physical impossibility,” he says placing his arm around me. “I do love you Lizzie, but there are times when you strain my patience.”

Speaking of love, were you in attendance when Darcy and I were married last spring in Temple Church? If I didn’t welcome you then, let me thank you for being there. It was divine to have so many friends in virtual attendance.

If you were there, you might be wondering about the handsome clergyman who officiated at our union; but alas, I am not permitted to share his identity, other than to say he is Darcy’s boss. If you did catch his name in our Templar adventure, please keep it to yourself.

“Now I am fortified with wassail, I can traverse the battlefield of our living room to greet Bingley.” Darcy waves at his friend.

“Jane and baby Elizabeth, too! See how magical this evening is with our nearest and dearest here? And I have a few surprises for you.”

“Oh please—no surprises, Lizzie. Each time you surprise me in one form or another, I feel my heart stop, and not necessarily in a good way.”

“Cheers! Look Richard, Edward, and Bingley have righted the tree!” I am pleased.

Crash!

“Or not.”

The tree lay back down on the floor like a sleeping giant.

Happy Christmas from the Darcys

Direct link to entire Mister Darcy series

Mister Darcy’s Dogs ~ Book One

Mister Darcy’s Christmas ~ Book Two

Mister Darcy’s Secret ~ Book Three

Pansy Cottage ~ Book Four

Mister Darcy’s Templars ~ Book Five

Mister Darcy’s Honeymoon ~ Book Six