by Olivia Kane
But how his heart was touched by Miss Elizabeth's bright smile and engaging conversation! Her utter lack of deference left him wanting more. Their first encounter at the Lucas’s party had erased his previous embarrassment regarding their dance; the second conversation in the churchyard on Christmas Day stirred feelings in him, feelings he quite enjoyed and spurred him into action.
He picked up her letter and read it again.
Here was the woman of kindness, grace, and character worthy of the title of mistress of Pemberley, his instinct told him. He was immediately thankful for that morning’s episode, for it exposed Miss Warwick’s mercurial nature and sealed his desire to pursuit Miss Elizabeth Bennet to the end.
It was unfortunate that the writing papers were burnt but the world was full of beautiful things. When she was Mrs. Darcy, he would buy her anything her heart desired.
The bell for dinner sounded and he stood up and straightened his jacket.
It was right that Miss Warwick left when she did, he thought. She could tell that romance was in the air in Meryton but that she was not the object of his desire.
Chapter Thirteen
“No, we do not need another kitchen maid, Hill. Thank you very much for asking. Why are you asking?” Mrs. Bennet said as she sat at a late morning breakfast. She picked up her cup and slurped her coffee.
“The little scullery maid from Netherfield Park was at the door earlier asking, ma’am,” Hill replied.
“Netherfield? Was she let go? We are not here for Bingley’s castoffs,” Mrs. Bennet snapped, biting into her buttered toast.
“I understand, ma’am. I will tell her. It seems that they are shutting up the house and leaving for London New Year’s Day and she was looking for work.”
Mrs. Bennet set down her toast. “New Year’s Day? This New Year’s Day? Tomorrow’s New Year’s Day?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Hill nodded.
“Oh, no, oh my goodness, no. Thank you, Hill. You can go. Jane! Jane! Come here, I need you!” Mrs. Bennet called. Hill departed and a few moments later Jane walked slowly into the dining room, alarmed to see her mother in obvious distress.
“Mamma, are you ill?” Jane asked.
“Oh, Jane,” she sobbed. “I have just had the worst news.“
“What, Mamma?”
But before she could respond, Hill was back in the dining room.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but there’s a gentleman caller for Miss Bennet,” she said.
Jane looked up in confusion.
Hill smiled. “It’s Mr. Bingley. It appears he has walked over from Netherfield. I’ve shown him into the drawing room.”
Mrs. Bennet shot up from the table and shooed Jane away.
“Go, go … my dear girl. What are you doing here looking at me?”
Jane, utterly bewildered at her mother’s fluctuating moods, followed Hill out, leaving Mrs. Bennet alone in the dining room to pace. She looked out the window at the empty drive then sat down and picked up her cold toast but put it down again quickly to return to pacing at the window. A mere ten minutes passed before the dining room door opened and Jane entered in tears.
“Oh, Jane, I am sorry. I was afraid to tell you, but London is not so far,” Mrs. Bennet cried out as she went to embrace Jane.
“Mamma,” Jane said through her tears. “He asked me. He asked me, and I said yes.”
Mrs. Bennet stopped her fussing as she processed the revelation that Jane’s tears were of joy, not sorrow.
“Oh my goodness, oh my goodness,” Mrs. Bennet stammered.
“Bingley said they were off to London for the next few months but he couldn’t leave me without an understanding. He is speaking to Father right now.”
Mrs. Bennet grabbed Jane’s hands and squeezed them tightly. “Mrs. Bingley of Netherfield Park. I knew it! I knew it the minute he moved in that you were meant for him. What fine gowns and carriages you will have! And silver and crystal! And jewels and pearls!”
“Yes, Mamma, yes,” Jane nodded through her tears.
“Let me go to him, let me see my son-in-law,” Mrs. Bennet cried as she scurried out to interrupt the men’s conversation, a conversation which she was certain must already be over, for Mr. Bennet’s permission was never in doubt.
After settling the matter with Mr. Bennet and absorbing as many of Mrs. Bennet’s good wishes as he could tolerate, Bingley departed with a promise to return that evening to serenade the New Year.
And so later that night, Elizabeth was as surprised as the rest of her family to see Mr. Darcy and his sister enter their drawing room with Bingley, a few hours before midnight. She took his appearance there as a sign that he counted the residents of Longbourn among his friends and chose to willingly be with them to share in the good news of Jane and Bingley’s engagement.
The addition of Georgiana Darcy brightened the evening’s convivial atmosphere. Mary pounded on the piano, Hill happily fussed over the table of cakes and tarts and cheeses she set out, and Lydia took it upon herself to see that their guests were never without a cup of mulled wine or wassail or brandy, whatever they wanted.
“Happy New Year, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said as the clock struck twelve, clinking her glass with his.
“Happy New Year, Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” he replied. He held her gaze in a merry way and then said, “The stars are clearly visible tonight. May I be so bold as to ask you to accompany me outside to view them?”
She felt no instinct to refuse him and readily acquiesced to his request. Grabbing a shawl, she threw it over her shoulders and allowed Mr. Darcy to escort her outside. The night was still; a small patch of moonlight and the golden panes of Longbourn’s windows were the only illumination. He walked to the center of the lawn and gazed up at the stars, pointing out the ones he could decipher in the clear night sky.
Then, after a short silence, he said, “We leave Netherfield tomorrow for London. I could not depart without taking this moment to thank you for your kindness toward me. It has made all the difference in my holiday.”
“I am glad, Mr. Darcy.”
“Georgiana told me that Miss Warwick destroyed your gift. I am very sorry. I wanted you to have a small token of my gratitude.”
Elizabeth hesitated and pulled the shawl tighter around her.
“I had hoped to spare you the account but perhaps Miss Warwick and Miss Bingley were pleased for you to know.”
“Perhaps,” he said.
“I was most grateful for the gift. I saw the paper in the mercantile and admired it. I suppose Bingley told you so?”
Mr. Darcy expressed surprise. “No, Bingley did not. I was in the shops and when I saw the paper I immediately thought of you.”
“You did?”
A small smile escaped his lips. “Yes, I did.”
“Now I am even more sorry to lose it,” she said sincerely.
“I blame myself. Miss Warwick had expectations but she must have noticed that my attention was diverted by another young lady,” he said.
Elizabeth surprised herself by finding pleasure in his statement. “I am sorry. I only meant to make you welcome in Meryton and not to stir jealousy. That was not my intent.”
“I do believe you. May I say I feel I was a fool of a man that first night I saw you at the assembly at Meryton. I was out of my element, and I said foolish things that I now regret. I disown that man. Forgive me my rudeness, my comments, and my rejection of all your gifts.
“Oh, Mr. Darcy. It is all forgotten.”
“Even the fruitcake?”
She laughed. “Yes.”
He paused and said tenderly, “It has been a happy Christmas this year. My one regret is that I did not get to know you better.”
Surprising herself, Elizabeth answered, “I am sorry too.”
Mr. Darcy looked steadily into Elizabeth’s eyes, and his dark stare softened in a way that melted Elizabeth’s heart. He hesitated, as if debating with himself.
“Miss Bennet,” he said. “Will you …”<
br />
She looked into his eyes, her heart beating.
“Will you … “ he could not find the strength to say all that his heart held. Elizabeth waited for a moment, anticipation seeping through her veins at the sudden knowledge that between the two unlikeliest of foes there was a blooming affection that she too yearned to declare.
“Will you … will you come back inside now? I’ve kept you out in the cold too long,” he faltered.
Elizabeth smiled, sensing he had meant to ask something entirely different. She felt a familiar disappointment wash away all the pleasurable feelings and let him lead her back into the house. They parted in the early hours of the New Year with no further sentiments exchanged between them.
That night, she went to bed feeling spent but tossed restlessly, uncertain how she came to feel so let down by Mr. Darcy. He had been on the verge of saying something and she yearned to know the words he withheld. Moreover, she was perplexed and confused at her reactions. How could it be that she so deeply regretted his departure when she had resented his very presence in Meryton for so long?
As the last candle was extinguished and the whole of Longbourn house went dark, she remained the sole inhabitant unable to sink into sleep. For Elizabeth, it seemed instead that her every nerve was alive and whirred with energy. She stared at the ceiling and out the window at the black twisted branches stark against the moonlit sky and pondered the ridiculous twist her heart had taken. Tonight she felt true affection for Fitzwilliam Darcy. She even wished she could stand outside alone with him under the stars for just one minute more.
I would climb out the window to meet him, if only he would ask, she sighed.
Chapter Fourteen
The start of the New Year saw Netherfield House vacated and shuttered; its halls empty, its furniture draped, its fires gone out.
The quiet of winter settled over the hills and lanes of Hertfordshire. The icy cold weather remained, freezing the lakes and wells, covering the paths with a dangerous gloss and limiting outdoor walks to only those willing to risk a hard fall. For the residents of Meryton, there remained only the merriment of Twelfth Night to look forward to. After that, the townsfolk seemed to heave a collective sigh and retreat into their homes and cottages to wait out the return of spring.
Elizabeth thought wistfully of the good fortune of both Miss Bingley and Miss Darcy. They both benefitted from rich, dutiful brothers who would not deny them the London season, while her own limited resources kept her cooped up with a houseful of restless and irritable sisters.
Never before had Longbourn felt so confining. Her mother’s nonstop chatter on Jane’s ascendance to mistress of Netherfield dueled with Mary’s repetitive attempts to ease her boredom by trying to perfect a sonata way beyond her skill level. Mr. Bennet took to wearing wads of cotton in his ears and calling him for meals was like waking a sleeping tiger.
There was nowhere in Longbourn to hide but Elizabeth found the rare quiet spot and stayed there as long as possible until her space was ultimately invaded. Through it all, her mind was set on those few moments alone with Mr. Darcy, and the secret she kept inside about her change of heart toward him.
With Jane soon to become Mrs. Bingley, further encounters with Mr. Darcy were certain. Elizabeth felt a slight anxiety at how she should act when they were to next meet. When she disliked him, it was fun to be impertinent in his presence. Now that she cared for him, she knew she would act awkwardly.
Best to put him out of my mind, she thought. I have accomplished my goal for this Christmastide and must not be so silly as to hope for more.
Elizabeth was settled in the chair in her bedroom near the hearth with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, a heavy quilt on her lap and a new novel when she heard Kitty and Lydia incessantly calling her name. Elizabeth had achieved a position of great comfort and resisted moving at her sisters’ whims.
There is probably a prettily dressed bonnet in one of their fashion magazines that I must see immediately, Elizabeth laughed. But not reason enough for me to move.
But soon the sound of four feet pounding up the stairs followed and they burst into her sanctuary.
“A rider brought this package for you with the Darcy seal,” they squealed. Elizabeth sat upright in her chair, letting her quilt fall. They placed the package, gaily-wrapped in holly-berry red paper and tied with a white string, in her lap. Elizabeth turned it over to see the circle of deep golden wax with the Darcy seal. She carefully opened the package to find a small leather box. Slowly, she lifted the lid to reveal a thin gold bracelet—exquisitely fragile links with one tiny topaz set in the center. A small note said,
I do believe this is fireproof.
Kindest regards,
Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.
“My goodness,” Elizabeth exclaimed, holding her hand to her mouth in surprise.
“Lizzie!” Lydia cried out. “Let me see that!”
Elizabeth handed the bracelet to her sister, who stared at it in awe.
“He must have sent it straight away from London!” Kitty squealed.
“Mamma! Mamma! Come quick!” Lydia shouted.
Much commotion was made over the bracelet that cold afternoon. Surprisingly, the scene was repeated at the same time the next day when a similar package arrived again by courier. Inside were a matching set of gold earrings and a note from Darcy, again reminding her that the gold was immune to destruction by fire.
On the third afternoon, a box of roasted nuts, tied with a silky silver ribbon, was delivered.
These nuts have already been through the fire.
Please enjoy with my best wishes.
Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.
By the fourth day, a lookout was in place and shouts of excitement greeted the courier as he arrived with another package—this time a thin leather volume of Proverbs.
May the wisdom of this little book burn bright within you.
Blessings,
Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.
Elizabeth was astonished by the value of the gifts sent, but she treasured the sentiments of his notes even more. She downplayed the meaning behind the gifts to her curious family.
“I am sure he means nothing more than to make up for Miss Warwick’s cruelty. He was quite remorseful and blamed himself for introducing her to our circle,” Elizabeth insisted, hoping to convince her family and her self of his motive. Dubious expressions greeted these proclamations and even her Father was not convinced. Still, Elizabeth did not waver from this conviction.
After all, she could not easily admit to her family that with every gift her affection for him grew and that with every playful note, he forged a deeper bond with her.
By twilight on Twelfth Night, a thick snow had been falling since mid-morning. The end of Christmastide was upon them, and the Bennet girls dutifully gathered all the festive greenery from the windowsills and doors and tossed them one by one in the fire, cleansing the house to ensure a year of good fortune. The spicy scent of mincemeat pie flowed throughout the halls of Longbourn, the cooked pies to be shared with friends and neighbors that night at one last seasonal celebration.
As expected, with the end of the season came the end of Darcy’s gifts. No courier had arrived by the time the Bennets wrapped themselves into their carriage for the snowy ride to Meryton, and Elizabeth was surprised at the mix of relief and disappointment she felt to know that Darcy’s playful attention to her had ended.
Once again, their carriage pulled up to the crowded assembly hall, and they alighted carefully. Inside, a large table was set with a bountiful display of mincemeat pies, Christmas puddings, gingerbread, and the prettiest Twelfth Night cakes that the confectioners of Meryton could create.
Before the festivities began came the traditional election of the Twelfth Night king and queen, the honor awarded to one woman and one man. Charlotte Lucas and Officer Denny were lucky to pull the honors of acting king and queen from the slips of paper in the communal hat, bringing much joy to Lady Lucas who saw the luck of the dr
aw as a good omen for the coming year. Even Mrs. Bennet could not begrudge Lady Lucas her hopes for Charlotte and Denny that night.
Presently, the focus of the evening moved outdoors where a large bonfire burned just outside the village proper. Singing and dancing ensued to the sound of the tambourine, flute, and drum. Yet despite the boisterous atmosphere, for Elizabeth, the evening fell short. She stood back from the crowd as it circled the bonfire, hiding in the shadow under the pines.
The night was not the same without the party from Netherfield in attendance, she decided.
No. It is not the same without Mr. Darcy.
How she wished he were there in the crowd, his eyes flickering in the firelight as he watched her every move. His moody presence had added an excitement to their simple country society that might never be equaled. At the same time, the hidden details of his life had touched her heart in a way she could never have anticipated. Knowing his secrets had endeared him to her.
But, she reminded herself, the gulf between them would always be too wide. It was to be expected that a man of his rank would return to London and the refinement of urban society. He was most likely dining at some fine residence or in a prime seat at the theater or concert hall that night. His society would speak in hushed tones and would not be shouting and dancing without restraint under the night sky. But oh how she wished he were with them tonight, out in the cold open air, smelling the wood smoke and hearing the loud boisterous hoots of her neighbors.
She wrapped her muffler tighter around her neck and sighed softly, her heart heavy.
Through the billowing smoke, a tall figure separated from the crowd and saw the silhouette of a young lady standing apart under a small cluster of pine trees. He cleared his throat and made his way toward her. He was almost upon her before she noticed him. At first, she thought him merely a figment of her imagination, but there was no else in Meryton with an overcoat and top hat half as fine as the one he wore.
