Page 10

Pierre Lambert, the patriarch of the family, Evangaline, and Adam had related to the two Bennet girls as if they were truly Maddie and Edward’s daughters.

The feelings had been returned in full measure.

Lizzy and Mary loved their Lambert family, especially the little cousins, Esmé, who then was two, and Philippe, who was a few months old.

His cousins called him Little Phillip, rather than the French version of his name.

The girls had been loath to leave Lambton, so the Gardiners had promised they would return when they could.

That promise had resulted in the journey they were on now. On their way north to spend Christmastide with the Lamberts in Lambton.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

The Duke of Hertfordshire was happy to be at Castlemere for Christmastide.

He was looking forward to the Barringtons arriving in two more days.

Colbath, his wife and children would arrive a day or so after Leticia and her family, and if that were not enough, they would all be in company with the Darcys, and the Fitzwilliams—sans Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

Since losing her husband less than two years past, she had become more insufferable than ever.

Along with the latter, he would see the Portnoys as they were spending the season with the Darcys.

Ever since he completed his year of mourning for his wife, women who hoped to be his duchess had been doing everything they could to gain his notice.

One had even attempted a compromise. Hertfordshire had forcefully refused to give in to an entrapment, so the ruined lady and her family had scurried to their country seat, tail between their legs.

Any other in a mind to compromise him had changed their plans.

Lady Catherine de Bourgh had attempted to gain access to Hertfordshire House to see him.

She had been denied entry and told never to return to any of his properties.

He was sure that now that she was a widow, she thought she could attain that which had been denied her when she had earlier tried to entrap the then Marquess.

If he found a lady he could love and respect, who genuinely returned the sentiments, he would pursue her.

So far he had not met a woman who came close to exciting his interest. There was no pressure; Leticia’s son Anthony would be the next duke if he never sired a son.

Hertfordshire was at peace with that, if it came to pass.

His nephew was a very good young man who, at fifteen, was in his second year at Eton.

He felt he could fully relax at Castlemere, even more so than Falconwood or even Greenfield in Ireland.

In a few days he, the Barringtons, and the MacIntyres would join the Darcys and their family at Pemberley.

Nothing could be better than to be surrounded by family and true friends.

He remembered that as of early March of the current year, the Darcy family members had grown by one.

Just when Lady Anne had given up on another child, Georgiana Felicity had been born.

From what he had been told, her twelve-year-old brother had called her Gigi, and the name had stuck.

On the morrow he planned to call on the Lambert men—the Lambton living was in his gift—and go over parish business, more importantly, to ensure they had more than enough resources so they would be able to meet the needs of all of the poor and downcast in the parish.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

“But, Grandpapa Lambert, you promised to tell me a story about when Aunt Maddie and Uncle Adam were my age,” Elizabeth insisted indignantly, her arms akimbo.

She had just been told that she would have to wait, as the vicar’s patron was calling soon.

Patience was not one of Elizabeth’s virtues. Neither had heard the doorbell jangle.

Hertfordshire knew the way to the study, so he released the housekeeper and made his way there unguided.

He arrived to hear the little pixie make her demand of Lambert.

She was not very tall; he would have guessed her to be about four until he heard her speak.

As soon as he did, he knew she was older.

“But Lizzy, I must meet with Lord Hertfordshire, and it will not take me very long, I promise,” the Vicar replied with a twinkle in his eye. He saw the Duke behind Lizzy and was about to say something when His Grace shook his head.

“Surely this Lord Hertfordshire can come back later,” Elizabeth decided.

“I suppose I could, but I am not sure if it will be convenient for Mr Lambert,” Hertfordshire stated as he fought not to laugh at the little impertinent miss.

The girl spun around, her eyes big and her mouth forming an ‘O’. She was one of the prettiest girls the Duke had ever seen, and her wide-open emerald-green eyes shone with intelligence.

“Who are you?” Elizabeth asked suspiciously.

Seeing that Lambert was about to admonish the girl, Hertfordshire shook his head again.

“I am your grandfather’s patron, the one he told you he needed to meet with.

My name is Lord Archibald Winston Chamberlain, the Duke of Hertfordshire.

My friends and family call me Archy. Do you know what a duke is? ”

“Of course I do,” Elizabeth responded indignantly. “I am not a little babe; I am almost six! A duke is a peer of the realm, and the highest non-royal title there is.”

“Excuse me, young lady, I did not know you were so very old. And yes, you are correct about my rank.” Hertfordshire paused and looked at the rector. “I thought your son’s eldest was close to three, or is this fascinating young lady your daughter’s?”

“Silly man, I am a girl, not a young lady,” Elizabeth corrected. “Mary, my younger sister, and I are Bennets. We are Aunt Maddie and Uncle Edward’s nieces.”

“Run along, Lizzy. I promise to come find you as soon as His Grace and I have completed our business. Please ask your Uncle Adam to join us,” Lambert instructed.

As soon as Lizzy left his study, closing the door behind her, the vicar gave a brief explanation of how it was the two girls lived with his daughter and son-in-law.

“Neither of those two deserve to be parents,” the Duke spat out as he shook his head.

“You have the right of it, Your Grace,” Lambert agreed. “When I see children being granted to parents such as those two, it is the only time I question God’s plan. I know I should not, but it does make me wonder.”

Just then the door opened, and Adam Lambert entered the study. “You must be speaking of those worthless Bennet parents,” the younger Lambert guessed once he had bowed to the Duke and received an inclined head in return. All three shook their heads and began discussing the parish’s business.

Before he left, the Duke had pledged an additional thousand pounds—over and above his already generous donations—to the parish to ensure no one would go cold or hungry over the winter.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

“Darcy, how is it your steward’s son is at the manor house and not home with his father?

” Hertfordshire enquired after the ladies had left them to their libations and, for those who desired to smoke, their cigars.

“It is your home, but is it not the place for all of us with family on Christmas Day?”

“You are not the first to question why that boy is always around,” Matlock stated as he exhaled a cloud of blue-grey smoke.

“I have asked my brother the same,” Portnoy added.

“Both Anne and my Edith do not like the boy, and they find him too charming by half.” He held up his hand.

“Before you say it, Darcy, it has nothing to do with him being Mr Wickham’s son.

You know we do not have that kind of pride.

How is it that whenever there is trouble, it is Andrew’s, Richard’s, or more often than not, William’s fault, and never young George Wickham who is responsible? ”

Before Robert Darcy could defend his godson, his brother-in-law Matlock interjected. “My sons and William always insist it is young Wickham who is at fault. How is it you never believe them, and take the boy’s word instead?”

“I owe Wickham greatly. He saved William’s life when he almost drowned,” Darcy defended.

“That was five years ago, and if you ask your son, he will tell you that his so-called friend was the one who pushed him into the lake,” Portnoy pointed out.

“George would have never done that,” Darcy stated defensively.

“Please pardon me for asking the question which began this conversation,” Hertfordshire said contritely.

The truth was Darcy was not as blind as his brothers thought him to be.

He just could not allow himself to believe that his godson was responsible for all that had been laid at his door.

If it were true, it would make George evil.

He respected his beloved Anne’s judgement, and she had told him that as far as she could see, something was not right with young George Wickham.

Robert Darcy would need some incontrovertible proof before he cast the boy off.