Too, they had made little bundles of nuts and apples and oranges wrapped in chambray which were now secured on the branches by ribbons of silk. There were sweet little delicacies similarly suspended and the entire tree was enveloped in a warm, flickering light by the addition of by the smallest of beeswax candles to the boughs. The aroma of all the delicacies was heightened by the warmth of the candles and the entire creation was a delight such as none in the room had ever imagined.
Not even Jane and Georgiana had viewed the beautiful creation, for they had sewn the ornaments in the parlour. It had been solely Elizabeth and Mrs. Jenkins who had dressed the tree – with a little assistance from a stable lad for the highest branches. It was clear to all now why Elizabeth had decreed this particular drawing room as under restoration!
Mr. Darcy looked at his wife with such deep, wondering admiration that all the room averted their eyes in the face of such depth of regard.
“Dearest,” he proclaimed, “It is that you will continue to astound me until I walk with a cane and my eyesight fades. That your wonder knows no bounds I was already certain of, but now, now you have rendered us speechless with your arts.”
Elizabeth laughed delightedly and said, “it is Mrs. Jenkins whom I must thank. I could not have succeeded without her.”
As one, they turned to Mrs. Jenkins who stood by the door ready for service. Raising her hand to face in astonishment, her eyes grew wide and – could it be? To Mr. Darcy’s great astonishment, a slow tear trickled down the cheek of this staunch, impassive woman.
“Why, I, why mistress, I ….”
“It is nothing less than the truth Mrs. Jenkins,” said Elizabeth gently, “ and now, if we may have some tea?” allowing her leave to recover herself.
“Oh yes ma’am, of course ma’am, thank you ma’am.”
Mrs. Jenkins departed with her dignity intact and Darcy smiled knowingly at Elizabeth which she returned with affection.
∞ ∞ ∞
After everyone had extensively admired and basked in the beauty of the Christmas tree, it was decided that since there was, happily, such a respectable gathering, that they should present all their gifts together or they would not be done by Boxing day!
It must be said that the exchanging of keepsakes between the family caused such jolly merriment that the pair of spaniels present were roused from their slumbers and huffily retreated to the seclusion of a distant corner.
“Thank you, dearest Jane, I was in desperate need of a new bonnet. I expect I shall have to tear the trim right off and replace it with some prettier-colored satin but it shall do very nicely then.”
“It is very considerate of you Jane. I do so often feel a chill these days and though I do not know where you would find the time to create such a shawl for me, I shall wear it in the carriage on my return to Mr. Bennet.”
“Mama, how perfectly lovely! I would dearly welcome some new music and I shall devote myself to learning this sheet so that I may play it for Mr. Bingley.”
“Thank you, Lizzy, for the purse. I can quite tell it is handmade. Are you acquainted with the custom of pacing a coin or two in a new purse that it may bring fortune to the holder?”
“Why Mr. Bingley. You are too kind. I was most in need of a new pen. I have practically worn the last to a nub as Lydia does move around so and I am never quite sure if my letters reach her and I have to write anew.”
“Thank you so very much Elizabeth. It must have taken you a great deal of time to produce such wonderful slippers! The embroidery is quite unique and they are of such a soft material. I shall wear them all through Pemberley. Thank you!”
“Well I am sure I do not know that I am in need of a vinaigrette Eliza. I am not given you know to fits of the vapors, and if I should ever need smelling salts I am sure Mr. Bennet would summon a servant. Still, it is of a most exquisite silver.”
At last, only Mr. Bingley’s gift to Jane remained and that of Elizabeth and Darcy’s to each other. As Elizabeth had foresaw, he had been delighted when Jane presented him with a bottle of wine imported from the continent, and he declared they would welcome the New Year in with a celebratory glass from it. Mr. Bingley then rose as though to leave the room, but Elizabeth forestalled him by crossing the room to retrieve her gift and present it to Mr. Darcy.
She smiled at his pleasure as he broke the seal of wax and removed the brown paper she had carefully wrapped the book in. She knew his smile of liking to be sincere.
“I shall treasure this tome my dearest,” he said immediately. “I know I shall be diverted for many an hour of enjoyment.”
He placed the book with great care upon the top of the mantle that it might be safe from exuberant dogs and careless hands.
“And here, Mrs. Darcy, is my keepsake to you. He passed Elizabeth a small, elaborate box. Opening it with much curiosity, she was astonished to see a necklace with the largest green stone she had ever beheld.
Chapter Nine
“I
t was my grandmother’s most beloved item of jewelry. It was a gift from my grandfather after he had been away for two years on an expedition. I would be honoured if you would care to wear it?” For answer, her eyes alight, she gently lifted it from a bed of silk and handing it to him, turned away that he might fasten it upon her neck.
The warmth of it upon her was as if his hand still lingered. Turning around once more, she beckoned him lean in to her so that he alone might hear.
“I shall wear this with the deepest of joy Fitzwilliam. But if you should think of going on an expedition for two years or even one, I shall sell all the horses and give away all the luggage that you might not leave.”
He laughed quietly. “My dear Elizabeth, if I should make mention of parting from you for a minute more than I need, then you may keep the luggage, for I shall need to be removed to a home for the afflicted.”
“That is a very beautiful emerald Lizzy,” said Lydia most seriously. She had approached to gain a closer view of the stone. “I shall tell Mr. Wickham of it upon my return. I do think he must demand of the Colonel a promotion in rank. He is severely under compensated for a man of his capabilities.” Mrs. Bennet said nothing but inclined her head in strong agreement.
“It is simply glorious Elizabeth, and it suits you admirably.” said Georgiana. Lizzy smiled and embraced her.
“Well now, my dear Jane,” said Mr. Bingley. “I fear you will be distressed in your disappointment when you see that my keepsake to you is neither priceless jewels nor magnificent silver.”
Jane said nothing but her amusement was writ plainly on her countenance.
“Pray satisfy us Mr. Bingley,” cried Lydia, “what does Jane gain from you?”
“Lydia!” cried Lizzy, shocked that Lydia, even bold as she was, might show such coarseness.
“It is of no import Lizzy,” Jane reassured her, “Mr. Bingley is quite aware of my regard and knows it to be for his person, not his fortune.”
As to that, even Lydia was silenced.
Bingley, who had briefly exited the room, returned and held one arm behind his back in a most peculiar manner.
Smiling broadly, he approached his wife rather swiftly. He gave a sudden cry of shock and exclaimed, “Yes, yes, a little patience my fine friend. Do not prick me so.”
Jane’s eyes widened in astonishment and she regarded Bingley with concern.
“Charles?”
“Oh!” was his only response until he reached Jane’s chair and then, bringing his arm into view, she saw a soft, fluffy little black and white kitten with his hair all stood up in annoyance.
“Oh the little pet!” she cried immediately. “Bingley, here, place him in my lap if you please.” Her husband, clearly delighted to do just so, looked tenderly at Jane – even though he rubbed at his hand where the kitten had objected to his indignity!
Jane, enthralled and enchanted by the kitten –which sentiment was clearly returned – made little further contribution to the conversation. Since the rest of the
party was replete and full of contentment, they had little inclination for continued revelry. Thus, it was to the mutual satisfaction of all that the night’s festivities were declared at an end.
Her husband’s hand upon her arm stayed Elizabeth as she prepared to follow the others from the room.
“May I call upon you in your chambers tonight?” he asked, sotto voce.
The familiar rush of warmth and light giddiness swept through her as she whispered, “Yes.”
He released her arm and she followed the others out of the drawing room. Oh! She was more nervous now than on the night of her wedding. For Darcy did not know, none knew, that her gift to him of the book had been a blind. The keepsake, her true gift for him, that she would give to him privately in her chambers.
∞ ∞ ∞
It was unlike Elizabeth in the extreme to suffer a storm of nerves. Through natural cheerfulness and much irreverence from her father on the very subject, she had a healthy disdain for such agitation. And yet now, standing here alone in her chambers she quivered in anticipation. This would not do! She had a gift for Darcy, a very personal, special gift for him, and she meant to give it to him without equivocation.
He would arrive imminently; the requisite waiting time had passed. There! She heard a stealthily step approach and then a soft tap on the door.
Bidding him enter, she stood in the very center of her chamber and faced the door directly. Darcy, upon entering the boudoir, paused in confusion. The room was not dark as was the custom and he could see her quite plainly. Elizabeth wore a very thin, bright red robe adorned with the most elaborate embroidery. It was fastened around her middle with a loop of fine silk.
He looked at her, his brows raised questioningly. In answer, Elizabeth very slowly raised her hands to the loop around her waist and untied it. As it fell to the ground, the robe swung open and Mr. Darcy’s eyes widened as his mouth fell agape.
Elizabeth shivered slightly, both from the cool air suddenly caressing her skin and most especially from the intensity on her husband’s countenance. Here, for his pleasure, was his very own wrapped gift. His wife. She had removed the outer layer and now the rest was up to him.
For underneath the silk robe was the garment the enigmatic French woman had fitted and fashioned. It was a garment such as Elizabeth had never known existed – the woman had called it lingerie and she wore it now for Darcy. At least, the little of it there was, she wore.
His eyes raked over her ravenously as he took in the garter belt supporting the black netted silk stockings then leading upward to a triangle of white silk and beyond that to a delicate wrapping of white frilly lace which both revealed and concealed her bosom. She smiled lazily and watched in fascination as his pupils darkened and a deep flush infused him.
“Does this please you?” she asked, her voice a soft murmur. “I am very much afraid I had to wrap this gift without benefit of sealing wax.”
Darcy answered not at all but stared rapt at her, eyes almost black. His tongue slowly moistened his lips and he trembled visibly. Without a word, he leaped across the room with such alacrity Elizabeth thought he must surely suffer vertigo, but he seemed quite unimpaired when he reached her.
Had not Mr. Darcy warned Elizabeth to beware of the creatures in the woods? She was certain she had just heard what most definitely sounded like a growl. She felt a laugh of sheer excitement rise in her throat but the darkness and meaning in his eyes quenched it as swiftly. Before his mouth covered hers, he said thickly, “I think I am going to like this new Christmastime custom very much indeed.” And then, she thought no more.
∞ ∞ ∞
Some considerable time later, Fitzwilliam lay in a deeply exhausted sleep, utterly sated. Elizabeth, cradled in his arms, lifted her head from his chest and could study his relaxed face at her leisure. Her gaze swept over his aristocratic features, passing over his dark eyelashes and firm jaw. Grazing her finger gently over his sensual lips slack now in sleep, her eye was caught by a faint bruise on her arm. It had the shape of long thin fingers.
Could it be the result of their … affection? She smiled languorously and laid her head back down on Fitzwilliam’s chest, inhaling the scent of him.
Just as she would drift off to that in-between world where you know not if you are asleep or awake, she saw the elegant Frenchwoman’s face appear before her. The woman was trying to speak, her mouth forming words, but Elizabeth could not hear them. She tried to reach out to the woman, but her limbs would not obey. The woman drifted nearer then away... ethereal, misty….
Elizabeth thought she heard the faintest of whispers …. Christine… Christine…. just as she was possessed by such a languid stupor she drifted away to oblivion.
That night she dreamt of the cultured French woman and the private mysterious shop she had happened upon. She knew in her heart she would never see either again. She had but one question to ask, the answer to which she ached to know.
The woman’s face became clearer in her dreams and Elizabeth could better understand what she said….
….I….was……known as…. Christine Dubois…. two... hundred…. years….past …. on my …. way to….church…. to... be… wed… horse reared…. struck down.…. killed … right here …. Christmas day….
…. Elizabeth’s cheeks were moist when she awoke the next morning.
∞ ∞ ∞
Epilogue
If anyone noticed Mr. Darcy’s particularly lively step the next morning, or his exceptionally solicitous attention to his wife, naturally they made no remark. It may have been fortunate that Mr. Bingley and Jane noted only the other, Mrs. Bennet was fussing Mrs. Reynolds that more kidneys be brought to the chafing dishes, Georgiana was enthralled by the glistening facets of the bracelet she had received from her brother and Lydia toyed with the curtains staring disconsolately out of the windows.
It was when, as Mr. Darcy assisted Elizabeth to her seat at table, and on pretext of gaining her napkin he leaned over her shoulder to whisper in her ear, “Although I have the appetite of a horse this morn, I find myself curiously distracted.”
Elizabeth turned her head enquiringly. “Oh yes?”
Mr. Darcy, with a smile so wicked it quite made her gasp said, “Yes my darling. I cannot wait to discover what gift you have in mind for my birthday…….”
The End
Mr. Darcy’s Unexpected Christmas
. Copyright © 2019 by Teresa Darwell All Rights Reserved.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Images and Cover Art Illustration by Period Images, Pi Creative Lab and PiCLab7
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Mr. Darcy's Unexpected Christmas: A Pride and Prejudice variation Page 4
