Christmas at Pemberley

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“An infant is a speck of Heaven that God allowed us to experience.” This is the story of a Regency Christmas, one centered on the birth of a child. For me, 2011 offered a special Christmas. In November, my son welcomed his first child into the world — my first grandchild. It is a boy, and I dedicate this book to that “speck of Heaven” we will come to know.

From the carriage’s rear-facing seat, Darcy insisted, “Elizabeth, we cannot.”

Elizabeth Darcy clung to the coach’s strap out of necessity, but despite her husband’s reasonableness, she objected to his order. “But, Fitzwilliam, we must be home for Christmas.”

“Christmas or not, you’re too precious for me to risk your injury under such appalling conditions.” He eyed her expanding waistline, but he made no direct reference to the strong possibility that she carried his heir. Darcy gestured to the icy roads they had encountered outside of Harrogate.

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