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

many of Darcy’s nightmares. No doubt his innocent outing to the panto would be the subject of her pen, probably even tonight.
    A white plume bobbed in the crowd and approached. Beneath it, Miss Bingley, with the Hursts tagging behind, approached.
    “Good afternoon, Mr. Darcy.” She and her feather dipped in a small curtsey. “How kind of you to join us.”
    “I appreciate Bingley’s invitation.”
    He did not like to lie, but sometimes it was unavoidable.
    “Shall we find our box before any more children arrive?” Hurst cast about the milling crowd, his upper lip pulled back. “Dashed inconvenient thing that these performances draw so many children who should be in the nursery.”
    Children who often behaved better than their parents once the performance whipped spirits into a frenzy. Young ones rarely incited a riot.
    “At least we shall have none in our box.” Miss Bingley tapped her fan on her palm.
    “You do not like children?” Darcy asked.
    “What is to like or not like? They are necessary. That is why nurses and governesses and boarding schools are employed.” Miss Bingley shared a knowing glance with her sister.
    “Hear, hear,” Hurst waved his hand, ducked his chin and waded into the crowd.
    Darcy ushered the ladies to follow Hurst and stepped behind to bring up the rear.
    It should not bother him that Miss Bingley did not like children. A woman of her rank had little need to. She was entirely correct. Nurses and governesses and tutors could relieve her of all need to interact with any offspring.
    His mother had not felt that way about her children, though. How many times had she stolen away into the nursery for the opportunity to read to him from his favorite book?
    The nurse used to assure her there was no need for the mistress to trouble herself. Still, Mother would not be gainsaid. Sometimes, Father would join her. He would fold himself in a tiny nursery chair to sit with them as she read.
    Some of the servants thought the arrangement peculiar, but Mrs. Reynolds would not permit that sort of talk below stairs. He had once overheard her scolding a maid who dared criticize his parents for paying far too much attention to the goings on in the nursery.
    What man did such a thing?
    The kind of man Darcy wanted to be.
    But that would require a wife. And more importantly, one who wanted to do more than merely birth her children.
    Miss Elizabeth drew children to her. Walking on the streets of Meryton, nursery maids brought their charges to her. Miss Elizabeth would drop to a knee to address them eye to eye.
    He had never been close enough to hear what they said to her or how she replied. But their laughter and looks of delight said enough. She was not the kind of woman to become a disinterested mother.
    “What say you, Mr. Darcy?” Miss Bingley settled herself into the seat beside her sister.
    What was she talking about?
    “For heaven’s sake, Miss Bingley, do not bother the man so. I have no doubt he does not care about the state of Mrs. What’s-her-name’s daughter’s hat.” Hurst flipped the tails of his coat out of the way and sat behind his wife. He gestured to the chair beside him.
    A flash of purple in the next box over twisted his guts. Did Hurst recognize her, too? Not sitting next to Miss Bingley was a very good idea. He settled himself on the velvet covered chair.
    The theater filled and soon the curtain parted. The crowd hushed, ready to be transported by the magic of the players.
    He leaned forward, studying the stage. Mother had a remarkable eye for detail. She would whisper in his ear about this bit or that. It had been a game they played, who could discover the most about the details of the stage before the first player came out.
    Miss Bingley preferred noticing the details of the other ladies who attended.
    Masked characters entered the stage, Cinderella and her father. The masks and costumes were excellent and different to what he had seen before. Definitely distinct from a