Christmas at Longbourn

by Karen Aminadra

  Mr Bennet clapped his hands in appreciation. “There you have it! The brightest of them all.” He smiled at Mary, his middle child. “Well done, Mary. It is indeed a clock.”

  “Well, that was a very difficult one indeed,” Mrs Bennet declared.

  “All this fun has given me an appetite. I wonder what is for luncheon.” Mr Bennet rose from his chair and walked towards the door.

  “I do think he makes these riddles particularly difficult,” Mrs Bennet lamented behind him.

  Mary was pleased with herself; her father had called her the brightest of them all. She could not remember ever being complimented so.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The afternoon passed by somewhat sleepily and lazily. It was Kitty and Mary’s habit to nap in the afternoon of Christmas Eve in anticipation of being in church at half past eleven at night and then staying up late to chatter afterwards.

  The sisters sat on one of the long settles in the entrance hall of Longbourn late that evening. Kitty was fussing with Mary’s coat and muff. “You don’t want to catch your death of cold in that church.”

  Mary shook her head and protested. “It is too warm to wear it now. I am overheating, Kitty.”

  Kitty clearly chose to ignore her sister. “I do not know why churches are always such cold buildings, do you? Perhaps it is the stone they built it with, which goes to show that the Normans were not as enlightened as we are today.”

  Mary frowned thoughtfully. “I do not believe that is the case, Kitty. We still build with stone today.”

  “And yet our homes are lovely and warm.” Kitty sat back, satisfied that Mary’s scarf was tied correctly and would not let any cold air to come in direct contact with her skin. “And so would our churches be, if we could just have a roaring fire in them.”

  “Yes, quite.” Mary sat back and watched Kitty thinking on it.

  “Why can’t we?”

  “A lack of fireplace might be the answer,” Mary replied, thankful that other family members could now be heard above-stairs emerging from their bedrooms.

  “Well, well,” Mr Bennet chortled as he descended to the hall. “Don’t you two look well bundled up?”

  “And festive too,” cried Lizzy behind him. “Green and red. What becoming colours for you both!”

  Mary blushed. It was Kitty’s idea for them to dress in colours she termed to be Christmassy. Mary felt embarrassed and had wanted to wear her usual church attire, but Kitty would have none of it. In order to avoid the inevitable squabble, because Kitty always knew best as far as fashion was concerned, Mary gave in and allowed herself to be dressed in forest green. The winter cape wasn’t even hers. She was not certain if it belonged to Kitty or had at one time been Lydia’s and discarded, as she did with a great many things. Kitty had adorned it, as with her own red one, with a white fur trim around the hood. Mary had to admit that her brown rabbit’s fur muff was not as soft as the white one she had been lent. She wondered how many other things had been discarded by Lydia over the years that Kitty had squirrelled away and benefitted from.

  Once they were all ready to leave the house with the servants in tow, they stepped out into the chill night air.

  “My goodness, how clear the sky is tonight,” Jane gasped, her breath fogging immediately in front of her face.

  “Look at all those stars,” Mary sighed. “Fascinating.”

  “Yes, yes, fascinating.” Mr Bennet marched off ahead of them. “If we spend the whole night staring up at the stars, we will miss midnight mass.”

  “Perhaps it was on a night like this that our Saviour was born,” Lizzy replied, smiling at Mary. “It makes one think, doesn’t it?”

  “The poor Virgin Mary would have frozen to death if she’d have given birth on a night like this,” Mrs Bennet groaned and pulled her cloak about her tighter.

  “Well, our Lord wasn’t born in England, was he?” Kitty scoffed. “No doubt it’s warmer in those parts of the world. Perhaps women give birth outside all the time.”

  “Kitty!” Jane tsked. “What a horrid thought!”

  Mary smiled and tucked her chin into her scarf to keep it warm. She knew there were many different cultures around the world and wondered if they did indeed do things so vastly different from the way things were done in England. “Perhaps it is something we will never know the truth about.”

  “Indeed,” Lizzy agreed. “Tonight is about our Saviour born in a stable some eighteen hundred and fifteen years ago.”

  A hush seemed to descend as they all contemplated Lizzy’s words. Mary felt humbled, as she always did on Christmas Eve. To her it was the most perfect night of them all, and she loved the church service, despite the bitter cold. Kitty, she knew, would tell her that she preferred the following day. Kitty had always valued the more material side to life more than Mary did. Kitty loved opening presents and the great feast they usually ate as a family in the late afternoon. But to Mary, it was the quiet walk to church and the reading of the scriptures that spelled Christmas to her. They all continued to walk on in silence, the only sound being the crunching of their boot-clad feet on the freezing snow beneath them.

  As they rounded the corner, the church came into view. There were a few of their neighbours outside greeting each other, but the real delight was when they stepped through the porch and into the church itself. Mary could not contain the gasp that escaped her lips. “It’s beautiful.”

  The church was adorned in greenery, most likely cut from Reverend Summers’ own garden, and all the altar candles were lit. Each person, excluding the very young, was holding a lit candle of their own.

  “Don’t we usually light the candles after the prayers?” Kitty whispered at her elbow.

  Mary did not have time to reply as they were beckoned to the altar by the reverend himself. “Do not be alarmed. I wish to do things a little differently this year.” He smiled disarmingly and handed each of them a candle. He then took the largest and fattest candle from the altar and moved along the row, lighting their candles and praying a blessing over them as he went along. “May the Lord bless thee and keep thee. May the Lord make His face to shine upon thee, and may He give thee peace.” He replaced the candle back on the altar behind him, dribbling a little wax on the cloth as he did so, and turned to make the sign of the cross over them with his hands. “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.” The Longbourn party and the rest of the congregation chorused the Amen together. “Please take your seats.” The reverend smiled down at them from atop the step.

  Mary had never felt so peaceful and serene. She and Kitty held hands as they sat down in their customary pew at the front.

  “Beloved parishioners, I welcome you in the name of our Lord,” the reverend began.

  The service continued in much the same way as it did every year. They sang their favourite Christmas carols and prayed for peace from the war on the continent. By the time it was over, Mary felt the usual excitement that accompanied Christmas building up inside of her.

  After the final prayers and the snuffing out of the candles, the reverend declared, “Please allow me to wish each and every one of you a very Happy Christmas.”

  Christmas had officially begun.

  Mr Bennet pulled out his pocket watch. “Well, there you have it. It is half past twelve on Christmas morn.” He turned to his wife. “Happy Christmas, my dear.”

  Her reply was lost in a chorus of Happy Christmases and Mary found herself seeking out Walter in the crowd. He was seated at the back and watching her. He smiled as their eyes locked. Deftly, Mary slipped out of the merrymaking throng and made her way over to where he sat. “Happy Christmas, Walter,” she curtseyed.

  “Happy Christmas, Mary.” He bowed and handed her a carefully folded packet. “I have something for you.”

  “Oh, Walter,” Mary’s breath caught in her throat. “Are these more of your illustrations?” Her smile was of pure, genuine delight.

  “Yes. You do like them, I think.” He
surveyed her face, and she nodded vehemently.

  “I adore them. You have an extraordinary talent in sketching the specimens you choose.”

  “Thank you. Which do you prefer, the plants or the birds?”

  Mary noticed that they both held on to the package. Walter was reluctant to break their intimacy, she could see. “I cannot rightly tell. I love the plants because they are fascinating with the pieces of information that you add to each page. But, to own the truth, the intricacy with which you sketch the birds is breathtaking, to be sure.”

  This answer pleased him greatly, and he beamed with pure happiness. He dropped his hand from the package. “Then I hope that these will bring you equal joy.”

  “I am certain that they shall.” Mary stole a glance behind her and saw her mother frown in their direction, but, encouragingly, she saw Kitty smile. “Do you have plans for Christmas?”

  “I shall spend the day with the Phillipses, as I usually do.”

  “Oh.” Mary frowned. “Do you not go into London to spend some time with your father?”

  A darkness fell upon his visage. “Sadly, my father is only permitted Christmas Day as a holiday from work. It seems such a shame to waste a coach fare for one day alone. I shall visit him when the roads are better. When the accounts are due to be audited, Mr Phillips usually closes the office. I can have three days together. I go then to see Papa.”

  “Er…” The reverend’s voice cut through the merrymaking. “I do not mean to quash your high spirits, but I think you should all come and take a look at this.”

  The chatter filled with joy turned to gasps of disbelief as each one of them made their way to the doors of the church to espy what the vicar directed their attention to. There, outside their Christmassy cocoon, they saw that the weather had turned against them. At least a foot of snow had fallen since they entered the building.

  “How deep is it?” someone cried at the back of the throng.

  “I do not know,” the reverend called, whipping off his cassock over the top of his head. “Let me fetch my coat, and I shall venture out and see the state of the road.”

  “No need,” Mr Darcy called. “By all means fetch your coat, but I can check on the roads for you.”

  The reverend clapped Mr Darcy on the shoulder in thanks and ran to the back of the church to where he kept his coat.

  “Oh, what are we to do?” Mrs Bennet cried out in fear. “Are we to wait in here all the winter until spring arrives?”

  “There, there, my dear.” Mr Bennet tapped her arm. “Longbourn is not so very distant from here. We, I am certain, can make it home before calamity befalls us all.”

  “But what about those of us who live further afield, eh?” Sir Lucas piped up.

  Mary had not seen him there standing beside her. She nodded a greeting before returning her gaze to the ever-thickening snow outside. She watched dumbfounded as Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley stepped out into the snow. Collectively, they inhaled in astonishment as the snow almost reached their knees. Within seconds none of them could see the two men any longer.

  Reverend Summers returned, out of breath, and shouted into the storm, “How bad is it?” Instantly the wind whipped his voice away from him. Mary knew that neither Mr Bingley nor Mr Darcy heard him.

  Kitty stepped forward and stood beside him. “What can be done?”

  He shook his head. “We must wait for their return before making a decision.” He turned and looked at the congregation behind him. “I fear my vicarage is not so accommodating to take us all in.”

  “Oh, we will all die, I know it!” Mrs Bennet screeched. Lizzy and Jane led her away to sit back down on a pew and rest her nerves.

  Mary sidled up to Walter. “I suppose you cannot make it back to Meryton tonight.”

  He nodded slowly. His eyes were transfixed on the sight through the doors. “I believe I am the only one who made it from the town anyway. I care not that my clothes are wet through.” He looked down at Mary, and her heart raced. “It was worth it to see you.”

  Before Mary could respond, two figures appeared in the snow, growing larger and more clearly visible by the second. Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy made it back into the relative safety of the church, covered from head to toe in snow. It was a minute or two before they had caught their breath enough to speak.

  “I believe anyone who lives within a few hundred yards of here can make it safely home tonight if they remain together,” Mr Darcy panted.

  This was all the encouragement some of the congregants needed and, with muttered good-byes and well wishes for a Happy Christmas, three families departed their company. That left the Bennets, the Darcys, the Bingleys, and their various servants. The Lucases, Collinses, and Walter Hodgson still needed to get home and hovered by the doorway, nervously looking at the falling snow.

  “Well,” Sir Lucas puffed out his chest, “what say you to our party making its way back to Lucas Lodge?” He looked pointedly at Mr Darcy, who seemed to have taken on the role of authority.

  “I would advise against it, sir. One can barely see one’s hand in front of one’s face out there, and with women in your party, I fear Lucas Lodge is too far to venture to.”

  Sir Lucas nodded, looking down at his shoes. “I see.” His voice sounded small and defeated.

  “Do you think that we can make it safely back to Longbourn?” Mr Bennet asked his son-in-law.

  “I do, sir. If we stay close together, holding hands perhaps.”

  “Right.” Mr Bennet clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “There’s only one thing for it.” He looked up at the reverend, and Mary noticed he had everyone’s rapt attention. “Do you have a goose?”

  “Yes, sir, I do.” Reverend Summers blinked rapidly in confusion.

  “Good,” Mr Bennet nodded. “Go home with Dorcas, fetch all the food you were planning to serve for Christmas dinner and anything else you can spare, and bring it back here.”

  “What are you planning, Papa?” Mary found her voice.

  “We are all going to spend Christmas at Longbourn!” he announced, beaming with satisfaction.

  “What!” Mrs Bennet started crying from her position between Lizzy and Jane. “Does he not understand?”

  The end of her sentence was cut off by the reverend. “I can bring clothing too.” He darted past Mr Bennet and shot towards the door at the back of the church which led to his home.

  “Do not bring too much!” Mr Darcy called after him in mirth, trying to lighten the mood. “You will have to carry it.”

  Mary nodded. “Right. Is everyone sufficiently wrapped up?” She received a slurry of yeses. “Very well.” She smiled at Lady Lucas. “I apologise that your plans are to change, but we want you to be kept safe.”

  Lady Lucas nodded gratefully. “Dear Mary, we do not mind in the least. My only fear is that we get young William indoors, warm and dry, quickly.”

  Mary had not thought about the child. She looked at Mr Darcy for help, grateful they had left her nephews at home asleep in the nursery.

  “It will be our highest priority.” He stepped forward and observed the sleeping babe in Charlotte Collins’ arms. “Will you be able to carry him, Mrs Collins, or would you like myself or Mr Bingley here to take him?”

  “I would be most grateful for your assistance, Mr Darcy, in taking William. That way I can keep a firm hold on my husband.”

  Mr Darcy nodded. “It will be an honour, Mrs Collins. William will be safe with me.”

  Mary wondered at them both having sons with the same name. She thought that perhaps, because the Collins’ son was also called William, Mr Darcy felt a greater responsibility towards him. Whatever the case, she was glad once again, that Mr Darcy was there.

  The reverend returned with Dorcas. Both of them had their hands and arms filled with food and clothing, which they quickly distributed to the others in the group.

  “Right then!” Mr Bennet declared staring out into the snow. “To Longbourn!”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine />
  The group had taken fewer than a dozen steps outside when the storm conspired against them. It whipped up a fury around their heads, stinging their cheeks, deafening their ears, and blinding them to all but the person in front of them.

  Mary held on for dear life to Walter, who had very quickly volunteered to walk with her. Mary had very little idea where anyone was, but she could hear her mother’s cries and moans to the rear of her. She knew that Reverend Summers was behind her and Kitty was with him. From what she saw as they were leaving the church, she believed that they had positioned themselves as man-woman-man-woman, as far as that was possible. She also knew that Sir Lucas brought up the rear. She dared not even look back to see if she could spot those behind her. She knew that if she could see the reverend, she would be lucky.

  Slowly and step by very small step, they made their way in a long line towards Longbourn. Mr Bingley led the way. Then came her father. She only knew this because they were the first to exit the Norman building. Mr Darcy, carrying the infant, pressed behind Mr Bennet. Mary tried to count and to place all the members of their party in her mind. She wanted any occupation for her thoughts other than worrying about whether they would die or fall into a ditch.

  Mary felt they had been walking for an hour when Mr Bingley called for a halt. Word passed down the line, and one-by-one they stopped. Next came the question, “Is everyone all right?” This question was passed down the line and all the responding yeses passed back up. Mary could still hear her mother complaining but no negative response was passed from behind them.

  “Very well.” Mr Bingley’s shout was muffled by the time it reached Mary’s ears. “Onward. Not far now!”

  Again, they began to move forward one small step at a time. Mary could no longer feel her toes, and she gripped the back of Walter’s coat so tightly that her fingers hurt. She dared not loosen her grip for fear of losing hold of him for good. She was frightened. She guessed that they all were.

  She noticed that those behind began to pull on their convoy, and their pace began to slow. She wondered how her mother was faring. She was not one for walking much. “Dear Lord, look after Mama,” she prayed. “Grant her the strength to keep placing one foot in front of the other until we reach home. I know you can see how far we have to go. Help us.” Mary placed her forehead against Walter’s back. If she was growing tired, goodness knew how her mother was feeling.