Christmas at Longbourn

by Karen Aminadra

  The reverend swallowed his mouthful of food and smiled wryly. “I confess it was my preferred profession, yes. My father did not feel that way, unfortunately.”

  “Oh, may I ask why?” Kitty watched as Mr Darcy put his knife and fork down and leant a little towards them.

  “My father, as you may possibly know, is an admiral of the fleet.”

  “Summers?” Mr Darcy’s brow furrowed as he tried to place the name. “Ha!” He let out a bitter laugh. “Forgive me, but your father is Admiral James Summers?”

  The reverend’s face contorted in a crooked smile. “Yes, he is my father. His reputation is… well, let us say he is renowned.”

  “Indeed,” Mr Darcy’s eyebrows almost met his hairline, he raised them so high. “I would never have taken him for your father. You are so unlike him.”

  “Precisely.” The reverend pursed his lips together tightly.

  Kitty wondered if he would prefer a change of topic as she reached out to drink from her water glass.

  “Did he not wish for you to enter the navy?” Mr Darcy pressed, keeping his voice a little lower.

  Kitty was relieved no one else seemed to be listening in, apart from her father, she perceived.

  “Yes, my father wanted me to go into the navy, as my older brother did. My younger sister even married a captain—Captain Nicholas Watts. Do you know him?”

  Mr Darcy shook his head. “I can’t say that I do.” He chewed thoughtfully on a piece of goose before continuing. “That cannot have been an easy decision for you, to go against what your family do professionally.”

  “No, it was not.” He looked down at his plate. “I could not have been a naval man; I get seasick in the harbour.” His laugh was bitter. “My father, I believe, has never forgiven me, especially since…” The reverend could not continue.

  Kitty wanted to reach out and touch his arm. She dared not be so forward. “Since what? What happened, Reverend?”

  He turned his head and looked at her directly. He took a deep breath and explained, “My brother was a midshipman and was killed in the wars against Napoléon.”

  “Oh!” Kitty was astonished. She wished she had not asked him at all. “I am so sorry.”

  “It is not your fault. You were not to know.” He smiled weakly. “I had chosen the church. It was where I knew I would be most happy. My father protested against my education as a minister…greatly.” Now he was speaking to Kitty, and to Kitty alone. “However, when he saw that my mind was made up, he permitted my education. I think he felt I would grow out of it in time. Then Jamie was killed at sea. My father blamed me. He still does.”

  “How can he? It was nothing to do with you. You could not have prevented it,” Kitty protested, whispering to avoid drawing attention.

  “Oh, grief can make a person irrational, Kitty.”

  “That it can,” Mr Darcy muttered. “Are you on speaking terms?”

  “Yes, we are. For my late mother’s sake, I have kept up correspondence with him.”

  “That is good to hear,” Mr Darcy nodded.

  “It is. His replies are not so pleasant, though.”

  “How so?” Kitty ventured.

  “He feels that the fortune he has amassed in the war ought not be left to me, that I am unworthy of it.” He took hold of his wineglass and took a large swig of the red liquid inside.

  “That is irrational.”

  Kitty nodded. Mr Darcy was correct. “Indeed.”

  “It matters not what he thinks. My sister has only daughters, and he has no one else to leave it to legally.” He shook his head, his sadness tangible. “What is ironic is that I honestly do not want his fortune. I am so very content with what I have.” He smiled at Kitty, who returned it with full feeling.

  “I am glad to hear it.” Mr Darcy raised his glass to the reverend, and Kitty joined in.

  “When the time comes, I shall divide it between myself and Joanne, my sister, anyway.”

  “That is very good of you,” Kitty heard her father murmur from the end of the table. He caught the reverend’s eye and nodded at him, raising his own glass.

  Kitty returned to her meal, thinking that she had learnt far more in those few short sentences about the reverend than she had in all the time that she had known him. She felt ashamed of herself for wittering on always about her own problems when the reverend lived through many and was still so vivacious and fun to be around. I could most certainly learn more than a thing or two from his behaviour, she thought not for the first time.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Christmas Day was drawing to a close. Kitty sighed as she looked around the drawing room. Their guests had dispersed all over the house. Jane and Lizzy, she knew, were napping upstairs. Mr Darcy was reading in the book room with her father, and Mr Bingley dozed contentedly by the fire, as did many others. Sir Lucas’ snores did nothing to disturb the other’s slumber.

  Mr Collins and Charlotte had retired to the nursery. Kitty had not resisted the urge to go up and have a look at the familial scene. She thought Mr Collins would be as maladroit as a father as he was in life in general; however, she was pleasantly surprised to see him laughing and playing on the floor with his son.

  Kitty returned downstairs and found her way to the summer room. As she entered the room, she saw Walter and Mary sitting with their heads almost touching as they talked in hushed tones. She smiled happily. She truly was pleased that Mary had found someone to love, something that until recently she would have deemed entirely impossible to happen. They were chaperoned by the reverend, who feigned reading a book at the other end of the room but whose eyelids were so heavy that he dozed off to sleep from time to time. Kitty sat gently down beside him without him noticing and studied his face. He has been through so much in his life. I wonder how he can remain so amiable in spite of it all.

  As his eyes fluttered open, he started at seeing her beside him and chuckled. “Kitty, you gave me a start!”

  “I apologise, Reverend. I did not mean to startle you.” She could not help but giggle at the way his whole body jumped.

  “Do not let it worry you, and might I be so bold as to suggest, as Mary and Walter do, that when we are alone, you call me Henry?”

  Kitty opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. She was touched by their growing friendship. “I would be honoured if you would call me Kitty, which I know you have on occasion.”

  He nodded. “Only because being your minister affords a certain intimacy that is otherwise frowned upon.”

  “That is true.” Kitty felt the distance open up between them again, and she wondered if they were becoming friends at all.

  “Have you enjoyed our little Christmas after all?” He leant forward so they would not be overheard.

  “Yes, I have, very much indeed.” She thought back over the day’s events. “I am astonished at the change in Mama. Usually she would have complained much; and all these people in her home, improperly dressed and housed, would have given her much anxiety.”

  “She seems the soul of happiness.”

  “Indeed she does. Do you think she is unwell?”

  He laughed a little at her question. “Not at all. I think she had a fright on Christmas Eve. I think we all did. She simply collapsed in the snow.”

  “Yes, Mr Bingley told me all about it. I thought it might have been her heart.”

  “Kitty, your mother’s heart is as strong as an ox. There is nothing weak about Mrs Bennet. She is just the last to know it.” His eyebrows rose, and Kitty knew he was right. “She feels at the moment, no doubt, that she was lucky. So she is happy.”

  “Let us be content with that!” Kitty smiled.

  “Let’s.” He returned her smile, and his eyes flicked over to the other side of the room, to where Walter and Mary sat in deep conversation. “What do you think of your sister’s intended?”

  Kitty watched them both for a moment or two before speaking. “I am heartily pleased for them both, I assure you. I did not think, growing
up, that Mary would ever marry. She was always so staid, sensible, and, dare I say it, boring.”

  “She isn’t your average young lady, I admit, but she is intelligent and extremely well read.”

  “Yes, she is indeed.”

  “And now that she has changed her hair, one can see how much she resembles the rest of you and is quite pretty, really.”

  Kitty snapped her head back to look at him as he watched the couple. “You think her pretty?”

  “Yes, I suppose I do.” His eyebrows met as he furrowed his brow in thought. “You are all pretty girls.”

  Kitty blushed from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. His words made her feel warm inside. “Thank you.”

  He laughed again. Kitty found she enjoyed its sound. “You do not have to thank me. It is a fact.”

  Hill popped her head in through the doorway at that moment. “Sorry to interrupt you all, but would you like some tea and hot crumpets? It’s mightily cold in here.”

  Kitty realised then that her toes felt like ice and nodded gratefully. “Yes, please, Hill. I would love some.” She turned to Henry, who nodded in agreement. Mary and Walter had already said yes, and Kitty smiled to see that they had returned to their private conversation.

  Henry and Kitty talked lightly about the weather and their day all together at Longbourn until the tea was brought in. Kitty served them all and took a plate of buttered crumpets over to Mary and Walter. She saw from their expressions that both were reluctant to be disturbed. Kitty returned to her seat by the French doors and sipped her tea. As the hot liquid slipped down into her stomach, she shivered. “Oh, that is good.”

  “Yes,” Henry agreed. “I had not realised how cold it is in here.

  Kitty placed her cup down on the table before them and reached over to the rocking chair beside her, where a crocheted blanket lay. Mary and Walter had the other spare one over their laps. Kitty followed suit. “I hope you do not mind,” she blushed.

  “Not in the least. It will keep us both warm.”

  Kitty resisted looking at him as she reached for her tea and brought the plate of crumpets onto their laps.

  “Oh, these look so good.” Henry picked one up and took a large bite out of it.

  “They always are. We are blessed to have Hill as our cook.” Kitty chose the largest one and bit into it. The melted butter seeped through the bread, onto her tongue, and over her lips. “Hmm…” she mumbled, closing her eyes.

  Once they had polished off two crumpets each and refilled their tea cups, Henry asked, “So, Kitty, how are you feeling now?”

  She knew immediately what he was talking about. He was referring to her disappointment and the ensuing melancholy which had taken her over. “I believe I am much better now. Thank you, Henry.”

  “Truly?” he asked with another crumpet halfway to his mouth.

  “Yes,” she nodded. “I have fewer dark moments to contend with. I can see positive things about my future.” She glanced over at Mary and Walter. “It is good to see her happy. It warms my heart.”

  When she did not continue to speak and the silence stretched on between them, Henry, asked, “But?”

  “But…” she sighed, looked back at him, and felt the darkness encroaching on her once more. “I cannot see such a happy future for myself as the one Mary now has before her.”

  Kitty watched as Henry observed the lone tear well up in her right eye, topple over the rim, and run down her cheek. He reached out and wiped it away with his finger. “Can you not?”

  “No, not at all.” She shook her head sadly and stared into her cup of tea. “I never thought I would remain the unmarried one of my sisters.” She snorted bitterly. “I always thought that to be Mary’s fate.”

  Henry leant his head back and observed her as she spoke on.

  “Now though…” she sighed deeply. “Jane’s marriage brings me joy. I am glad that I shall spend so much time with her at Netherfield and with her family.” She smiled weakly at him and saw him looking at her quizzically. “Lizzy too is very happily married. I shall enjoy staying with them at Pemberley in the summer.” She pursed her lips and took a breath before going on. “I shall not accept any invitations from Lydia for the time being. She shall have to come here if she wishes to see me. She is entirely oblivious to how she has behaved. I cannot be around her for now.”

  “A wise precaution, I should say.”

  “As for Mary,” she briefly looked over to see the newly engaged couple holding hands and her heart lurched, “she will remain at home until Mr Hodgson is qualified.” She turned back to Henry. “Mama even mentioned that she would like Mr Hodgson and Mary to live here when they are married and for Mr Hodgson to set up in Meryton as the apothecary.”

  “I do not know how likely that is. Mr Turner has a very good practice here. He might not take it very kindly if Mr Hodgson were to set up in competition.”

  Kitty had not thought about that and neither, she suspected, had their mother. “Well, we shall see what happens.” She smiled as best as she could at him. “And what about you? What are your future plans?”

  “Oh, well,” he stretched languidly, “after a dismal couple of years, I believe things are looking up.”

  “Oh?” Kitty asked, intrigued.

  “Yes, I…” Kitty watched the colour rush to his cheeks. “I…have met a young lady who I think is both amiable and delightful to be with.”

  Kitty’s heart contracted in her chest. “Really?”

  “Really,” Henry nodded, not looking at her but licking the remnants of butter from his fingers instead of reaching for a napkin.

  “Here.” Kitty hastily grabbed a napkin and almost hurled it at him, her discomposure was so great.

  “Thank you.”

  Kitty watched as he wiped off his fingers on the faded green linen square. “Yes, I believe there is a bright future for me after all,” he continued. “I think a summer wedding would be delightful, don’t you?”

  His gaze was steady when he looked over at her, but Kitty found that she could not meet it. She cleared her throat which tightened around any response she wished to give. With a jolt, she realised why she was reacting so. I am falling in love with Henry. I do not know when it happened, but I care for him. This is so different from how I felt for Sir Percival. That, I know now, was not love.

  “Kitty?” Henry prompted when she did not answer.

  Oh, dear Lord, how am I to answer him when he is to be married to another? She cleared her throat once again and found her voice freed. “I believe it is the fashion for summer weddings, yes.” She had managed to answer him as detachedly as she possibly could. Her heart began to hammer inside her chest and her feelings sank. She knew the black cloud was coming back. He is in love with another.

  “Which do you prefer, pink or violet?”

  She could hardly bear it. His eyes shone with happiness as he spoke. Kitty looked away. “I believe violet is a very pretty colour, Henry.” Her voice was almost at a monotone now.

  “Or perhaps you think a spring wedding is preferable.” He looked out through the windows to the grounds, and Kitty knew in her heart he was imagining a springtime wedding.

  “I have no opinion. However, after such a harsh winter, perhaps the lady in question would be glad of a spring wedding.” Kitty almost choked on the words.

  “It would be lovely to have the reception party here in the gardens of Longbourn, don’t you think?”

  His smile was innocent enough, but Kitty could no longer bear to hear his words any longer. “Do you not feel that this is a discussion you ought to be having with your intended and not with me, Reverend?” she snapped.

  Henry looked at her wide-eyed, then threw his head back and laughed so loudly that it echoed off the walls and drew the attention of Mary and Walter on the opposite side of the room.

  “I fail to see what is so amusing,” Kitty snapped and yet he continued to laugh. Kitty leant forward, placed the plate and her cup on the table, and lifted the bla
nket in preparation to take her leave.

  “Oh, Kitty. You really are a funny girl,” he managed to say as his laughter came to a fitful end.

  “I beg your pardon?” she glowered at him.

  His smile slipped off his face. “You are being serious with me,” his expression was one of astonishment. He reached out for her hand, and she snatched it away from his grasp. “Kitty, please don’t be like that.”

  “Reverend Summers, I do not feel, with your upcoming nuptials, that it is appropriate for us to sit thusly any further.”

  She began to rise, but Henry caught hold of her wrist and pulled her back down. “Kitty, stop this now.”

  “Stop what?” she demanded. “Unhand me, Reverend. You cannot sit here and hold my wrist. Someone might see us.” She nodded towards Mary and Walter. “You do not want word getting back to your intended.”

  “My intended?” He screwed up his face momentarily and then again laughed. This time it was short-lived. “Kitty, you are an intelligent young lady. So, I pray you, do not be such a dullard.”

  “I beg your pardon?” His behaviour confused her.

  “Kitty, do you not realise?”

  “Realise what?” Her tone remained stone-cold.

  “I spoke to your father earlier today.”

  “I speak to my father every day. What does that signify?”

  He chuckled and stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. “He has given me his permission.”

  Kitty shook her head. “I do not understand what you mean.”

  Henry leant forward so that their faces were merely inches apart and whispered, “He has given me permission to ask for your hand. I imagined he had told you. I thought you knew.”

  Kitty could not have been more shocked. Me? It’s me he speaks of? “My hand?”

  “Yes, Kitty. Your hand.” Henry started to laugh again. “Oh, my goodness! We are a right pair, aren’t we?” In one fluid motion, Henry slipped off the settee and onto one knee. “Kitty Bennet, will you do me the greatest honour and consent to be my wife?”