Excerpt from His Perfect Gift

We’re getting closer and closer to Christmas day, so I thought I’d share the Christmas chapter from His Perfect Gift today. It’s one of my favorite chapters and I hope you enjoy it! If you haven’t read His Perfect Gift, make sure you check it out on Kindle, KU, Paperback, and audiobook.

Chapter 11

The morning dawned frigid in comparison to the days leading up to Christmas, the chill evident in the frost clinging to the window as well as the biting cold that penetrated the glass when Elizabeth stood too close. With a light touch, she pressed her fingertips to the window, melting the ice and leaving a clear mark when she pulled them away.

“Lizzy, come sit by the fire,” said Jane, who had paused from reading Goody Two Shoes to Jemima.

Even though Elizabeth’s gown covered her arms to her wrist, she grabbed her shawl and wrapped it around her. Between her sleeves and the wrap, she would not become ill—she refused. She had too much to anticipate in the weeks to come. Besides, she could not leave the window. She wanted to know the moment Fitzwilliam arrived.

“Watching will not make him come any sooner,” said Aunt Gardiner with a hint of a smile. “I daresay he stuffed his poor sister into a carriage the moment she completed her toilette.”

“Aunt!” Jane laughed while Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “You are being silly. You know they were to attend church just as we did.”

Elizabeth tapped her foot and crossed her arms over her chest. “What if he is angry over what occurred with Miss Bingley?”

Aunt Gardiner rested her needlework in her lap. “When he returned you home last night, he was not a man upset. He still observed you as he has since we first made his acquaintance. You also told us he chastised the lady after his sister did so. I do not believe he would think nothing of it at the time, then completely change his opinion.”

“I cannot imagine him so alterable,” said her uncle. “Can you?”

“No, I cannot.”

The steady striking of horses’ hooves against the road caused her to jerk her head back so she could see the street. He was here! She rushed to the hall and stood before the door, pinching her cheeks then straightening her skirt. Good grief! When had she become Lydia? Well, maybe she was not so much like her youngest sister. Lydia would surely adjust her bosom and not her skirt.

After a deep breath, she opened the door as Fitzwilliam’s foot hit the pavement. “Happy Christmas!” Her breath created a white cloud that floated away on the breeze. “I hope your journey was not too cold.”

He handed out Georgiana with a slight lift to his lips. “We wore our warmest coats and the grooms heated bricks for us. We were quite comfortable, I assure you.”

As they stepped towards the door, a footman followed with a small trunk. “What is this?” asked Elizabeth.

Fitzwilliam glanced at his sister with his smile widening. “You will see soon enough.” Once they entered and had removed their coats and hats, Georgiana hurried into the drawing room while she and Fitzwilliam lingered behind. “You were waiting at the window?”

“I was.” Why were her cheeks so warm? “I admit to fretting about what occurred with Miss Bingley yesterday. I fear I have driven my aunt and Jane to distraction.”

His strong hand took hers with a gentleness she had once not considered him capable of possessing and bestowed a kiss to her knuckles. “Bingley awaited me when I returned last night.”

A pang ripped through her chest. What if she caused their friendship to end? Would he blame her? “I hope he understood.”

Fitzwilliam lifted his eyebrows while he retained his hold of her hand. “No, I am afraid he did not, but I would much prefer to delay this conversation for now. I promise I am not upset with you or Georgiana, but today is a happy occasion. Perhaps we can speak of it later.”

She nodded and tried her best to cease that persistent niggle pestering her that something was amiss. They would speak of it, and he was not angry. That was what mattered most.

When they entered the drawing room, her aunt stood and clasped her hands in front of her. “Happy Christmas!” Her children, husband, and Jane all echoed her greeting before they bowed and curtseyed. Elizabeth grinned at Georgiana, who must have been immediately snatched by Jemima since the little girl sat on Georgiana’s lap and held the book in front of her. Beatrice curtseyed with her parents, the needlework her mother was teaching her abandoned on the sofa.

“Would you care for some wassail?” Aunt looked between their guests. “I can also offer tea, coffee, or chocolate if you prefer.” After Georgiana requested chocolate and Fitzwilliam coffee, they joined the others seated near the fire. At a gesture from Fitzwilliam, the footman set the small trunk beside him, bowed, and hurried from the room.

“Mrs. Gardiner, I hope I do not overstep, but I brought gifts for everyone.”

“You should not have gone to such trouble,” said Aunt Gardiner. The children each perked up and watched their mother.

“’Twas no bother; I assure you. I am grateful for the invitation to spend the day with your family.” He flipped the lid and pulled out two small packages he handed to Georgiana. “My sister selected the gifts for the children.” He withdrew the next two, which he handed to Mrs. Gardiner and Jane, followed by the last that he handed to her uncle.

When he held Elizabeth’s before her, she winced and bit her lip. “But I have nothing for you.”

“Never fear, my dear,” said her uncle. “I can help you select something from my stock.”

Fitzwilliam set the parcel in her lap. “I did not select this gift in expectation of one in return. Pray, do not feel obligated. Being here today is a gift to me.”

She glanced to the children. Beatrice had forgotten her sewing in favour of the ball and cup she must have removed from the paper, now discarded beside her needlework. Jemima unfolded the wrapping with great care and gasped. “A doll! She is so pretty. Mama, look at her gown.”

Her aunt smiled and fingered the silk folds. “I wonder if Miss Darcy made your doll and her gown. Pray, make sure you thank her. If she made her, she spent a prodigious amount of time on her.”

“Thank you,” said Beatrice, taking her eyes from her new toy for but a moment. Elizabeth pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. While Jemima more resembled Jane in demeanour, Beatrice oft times reminded Elizabeth of herself at that age.

Jemima’s wide eyes looked up at Georgiana. “Thank you. Did you make her?”

“I did. One of my governesses taught me how to make dolls out of fabric scraps and sometimes even my old gowns. This was a gown I became too tall for and had only worn a handful of times. The doll’s body and face are the underdress and her gown is a recreation of the one I used to make her.”

Her small cousin touched the ribbon around the waist. “Will you teach me to make one someday?” Elizabeth pressed her hand to her chest at Jemima’s sweet countenance and heartfelt request. She was such a good child. If she remained unaltered, she would be just like Jane when she grew up.

“Of course,” said Georgiana. “I would enjoy teaching you.”

Aunt Gardiner and Jane both exclaimed over their beautiful white embroidered shawls as Uncle thanked Fitzwilliam for the rare edition of Shakespeare. While Elizabeth fingered the tie on her own gift, the cheerful voices of her family surrounded her. She adored that sound. Their laughter and joyful countenances were the best part of the season, not to mention that the Gardiners’ home was a great deal happier than Longbourn lately. She did not miss her mother’s laments over Mr. Bingley’s departure or her own refusal of Mr. Collins. She could be nothing but thankful her father agreed to their removal to town.

“Will you not open yours?” She lifted her eyes to those of Fitzwilliam’s, who watched her with a soft expression.

“Lizzy,” said her aunt, “if you would prefer, you and Mr. Darcy may go to your uncle’s study.” She dipped her chin down a bit. “The door should remain open.”

After Fitzwilliam stood, he offered her his hand. “Thank you, Mrs. Gardiner.” She stood but held her gift with both of her hands rather than placing one upon his arm. When they were alone, she set the wrapped package on the desk. “Does something displease you?”

“No, I simply feel remiss in not having something for you.”

“I wish you would not. I am truly not concerned.” He pressed the gift closer to her. “Pray, open it.”

With shaky fingers, she tugged the string and let it fall open before she drew the paper away. A gasp escaped her. “’Tis stunning.” She took a corner of the India shawl and lifted, but he stayed her hand.

“Careful. I wrapped something inside of it.”

At his warning, she peeled back the layers of fabric to reveal a small box. She glanced at him before she picked it up and lifted the lid. “What a lovely comb.” She drew the delicate silver piece from the material protecting it. “Would you put it in my hair?”

He cradled the ornament in his palm while she turned. “I am unsure of how to do this.”

“I trust you. Place it where you think it will look best.”

Once the teeth of the comb slid against her scalp, his finger brushed down the back of her neck. “I was correct. The silver complements the ebony of your hair.”

She struggled to ignore that gooseflesh he created while she turned and wrapped the shawl around her shoulders. “How do I look?”

“Lovely,” he said. He snagged a corner of the wrap and rubbed it between his fingers. “My mother loved India shawls. My father gave her this one for her birthday. She did not wear it much before she became too ill.”

Her heart cracked and bled for him and Georgiana. The pain they must have endured losing both of their parents within a few years of each other. “Are you certain you wish me to have such a cherished keepsake? Georgiana may desire to wear it one day.”

“No, she has her favourites, and when I asked of her feelings, she mentioned this one specifically.” He cleared his throat and blinked. “We should return. I do not want to test your uncle’s patience.”

He made to turn, but she grasped him by the sleeve. “Fitzwilliam?” Before she could give it much thought, she rose to her tiptoes and kissed his cheek, her heart beating in a mad cadence against her ribs. What if she fainted? How horrifying would that be!

She hastened ahead of him without looking at him, but when she reached the hall, a hand to her elbow kept her from walking any further. She turned to his wide grin and a finger pointing towards the ceiling. When she lifted her head, a kissing bough hung just outside the study door, beckoning for a wayward couple to be caught underneath. “I had not noticed when we first passed. I believe ’tis bad luck to do so once much less twice. We should not tempt fate.” Her eyes were surely as wide as saucers. Did he mean to kiss her—as in a real kiss?

His face crept closer and closer until she could not hold his gaze any longer and let her eyes flutter closed. Her heart was going to burst from her chest. His warm breath fanned against her cheek, only increasing the disconcerting light-headedness. When his lips caressed hers in the faintest of whispers, she inhaled a quick burst of air. A moment later, he was gone.

She opened her eyes and released her hand, which was squeezed impossibly tight around his mother’s wrap. “Is that all?”

His low rumble filled the hall. “Is that all? Did you want there to be more?”

“You said we passed under the kissing bough once before. I thought we had to atone for our first passing as well.”

His eyebrows shot up onto his forehead, and he stepped forward. “A good idea. We should certainly not leave anything to chance.”

Her breath caught in her chest as his hand cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing along her cheekbone, while he bent forward. This time, her eyes closed a bit quicker, and his kiss was a bit firmer. She grasped his arms to keep from collapsing in a puddle at his feet but removed them with haste when he drew away.

At a tiny gasp, they both whipped around as a little head of tawny locks darted back inside the drawing room. “Mama! Papa! I saw Mr. Darcy kissing Cousin Lizzy under the kissing bough!”

Elizabeth pressed her palms to her burning cheeks while Fitzwilliam steepled his hands in front of his mouth, his shoulders shaking. This had to be the most horrifying moment of her life!