To Forget:Darcy's London Christmas: Pride and Prejudice continuation; Sweet Tea Short Story Read Free

thoughts.”
    She laughed, a gay sound that made anywhere sound like home. “And we are all glad for that. So, then what happened once you were in London.”
    “Little good, I can tell you that, first and foremost and some of it was absolutely ghastly...”
    December 25, 1811
    A month later, Darcy stepped down from his carriage and stared at Bingley’s front door. He tugged his shirt cuffs from beneath his jacket and straightened his cravat.
    Why had providence made Bingley so very persuasive—or was it merely a reflection of Darcy’s own guilt—that he agreed to attend? Bingley had looked so very miserable when he asked.
    “Darcy, you ought not spend Christmas alone. That is far too lonely a fate for a man with both friends and family”
    It was true enough, though he had more family than friends.
    “Besides , this party is your fault.”
    “My fault? That is absurd.”
    Bingley raised his index finger and shook it at him. “I would not be here in London, apart from your forceful insistence that it was the right and proper thing to do. Were I not in London, this party would not be happening. Thus, since it is your fault I am in London, the party is equally your responsibility as well. And as such, you must attend.”
    Darcy huffed and rolled his eyes.
    “Surely you cannot tell me you object to Christmastide entertaining?”
    Though he was not apt to socialize like Bingley, he did not on principle object to Christmastide socializing. This year was different. All he wanted was to be left alone that he might quiet the cacophony in his own head.
    One which centered around Elizabeth Bennet.
    He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head sharply.
    Enough of this! Enough!
    Why was it, the very thing he least wanted to dwell upon would not leave his mind for a king’s ransom?
    Perhaps distraction among merry society was the best thing indeed.
    He trotted up the few steps and rapped at the door. The butler opened the door. The smells of Christmas washed over him, a wave forcing him back in time to a much simpler life at Pemberley.
    “Will these boughs be enough?” a young Darcy offered his mother an armload of evergreen boughs, cut by his own hand.
    “These are wonderful, Fitzwilliam, but the house is quite large. We will need many more to fill it. Why do you not take the donkey cart with you on the next trip and heap it high.”
    Mother’s cheeks glowed. Mrs. Reynolds whispered it was because she was increasing, but Darcy was sure it was because of her love of the Christmas season.
    “Sir?” The butler peered at him, somber eyes narrowed.
    Darcy grunted and entered. Doffing hat and great coat, he paused in the vestibule. Muffled conversation floated down from the drawing room. More fragrances wafted from the dining room, boar’s head and was it ... yes, mince pie.
    At Pemberley, mince pie was never served until after the Christmas feast.
    So much food was prepared for family guests, tenants and servants, the cooling tables bowed with abundance. No less than three were set erected in the breakfast room to manage the overflow from the kitchen. After the feast, baskets were sent around to tenants and the parish poor, and still there was more left over.
    Mrs. Reynolds and Cook would gather all that remained. Every free hand in the house was marshalled to chop and mix filling and pastry crust for piles and piles of mince pies.
    For at least a fortnight afterwards, no one came within a quarter mile of Pemberley without having a mince pie pushed into their hands.
    His mouth watered and he licked his lips.
    “Mr. Darcy!” Miss Bingley called from halfway up the stairs, her ostrich feather bobbing in time with her steps. “I am so glad you have joined us.”
    “Thank you for your gracious invitation.” He bowed from his shoulders.
    For all her faults, Miss Bingley was an excellent hostess. She had managed a remarkable feat, pulling together the Netherfield ball in but a fortnight. In all likelihood, she had been