A Darcy Christmas

by Amanda Grange

  “Emily!” remonstrated Mr. Gardiner, but in a playful manner. He lifted his glass in toast, “To Mr. Darcy and dear Elizabeth, may they realize that they are made for one another in the New Year!”

  Edward Gardiner then read them the Christmas story from the family Bible. Other family stories were related and talked of. Kate told them that morning she had seen a lady and a lord, and how the lord “was much about as tall as Robert,” at which Robert pulled himself up as tall as he was able and, walking on his toes, bowed grandly before each member of his family, who laughed in delight. All this time, the chestnuts and the punch went round and round; and by-and-by they had a song or two.

  There was nothing of high mark in this. They were a happy family—grateful, pleased with one another, and contented with the time; and when they faded, and looked happier yet in the bright sprinklings of the Spirit’s torch at parting, Darcy had his eye upon them until the last.

  By this time it was getting dark and snowing pretty heavily; and as Darcy and the Spirit went along the streets, the brightness of the roaring fires in kitchens, parlors, and all sorts of rooms was wonderful.

  The children of the house were running out into the snow to meet their married sisters, brothers, cousins, uncles, aunts, and be the first to greet them. Here, again, were shadows on the window-blind of guests assembling; and there a group of handsome girls tripped lightly off to some near neighbor’s house, where the single men saw them enter in a glow!

  And now, they stopped in front of one particularly grand house.

  “My uncle’s house?” asked Darcy.

  A light shone from the window of the mansion, and swiftly they advanced towards it. Passing through the wall, they found a cheerful company assembled around a glowing fire. An older man and woman, with their children and their grandchildren, were all decked out gaily in their holiday attire. The Earl was singing them a Christmas song; and from time to time, they all joined in the chorus.

  Georgiana, who had been playing the piano accompaniment, stilled as the song died. Col. Fitzwilliam came over to the piano and suggested that Georgiana play the new music she had received as a Christmas present. Georgiana began to play.

  “I hope you are pleased with your gift?” the Colonel inquired.

  “Yes, very much, thank you. And are you pleased with your gift? Fitzwilliam said that you could use it to ward off your many female admirers.”

  Fitzwilliam eyed the beautifully carved ebony walking stick. “I would never be so ungentlemanly. Who am I to deny their admiration, especially as it feeds my own vanity?” Colonel Fitzwilliam heaved a great sigh. “Though it is a terrible burden to be the object of so much admiration.”

  “Pish-tosh!” cried the Countess.

  “Fish toss!” echoed his young niece and nephew. The adults broke into uncontrolled laughter.

  Darcy smiled in amusement himself.

  “What is the name of this piece?” the Colonel asked.

  “Ode to Joy by Herr Beethoven,” Georgiana replied with a sad little sigh.

  “You do not appear to be very joyful, my dear,” observed the Colonel softly.

  “It is just that I do not believe that I shall get the present that I want the most for Christmas.”

  “And what present would that be?” inquired the Colonel.

  Georgiana leaned over the piano to whisper into Colonel Fitzwilliam’s ear, “A new sister. A particular new sister.”

  The Colonel whispered back, “Now that is peculiar, for I wished for a new cousin for Christmas. A particular new cousin.”

  And though they spoke in whisper, Darcy could hear their wishes as if they were whispering into his ears.

  The Spirit did not tarry, but bade Darcy hold her robe, and passing on above the city sped on to the sea. To Darcy’s horror, looking back, he saw the last of the land, a frightful range of rocks, behind them; and his ears were deafened by the thundering of water, as it rolled and roared and raged among the dreadful caverns it had worn, and fiercely tried to undermine the earth.

  The Ghost sped on, above the black and heaving sea until they lighted on a ship. They stood beside the helmsman at the wheel, the lookout in the bow, the officers who had the watch—dark, ghostly figures in their several stations—but every man among them hummed a Christmas tune, “Three Ships” being the most popular. One spoke below his breath to his companion of some bygone Christmas Day, with homeward hopes belonging to it.

  “And it is for certain that the Captain is having a very merry Christmas this year.”

  “Aye,” cried the men, “here’s to the Cap’n and his Missus, may many more Christmas days come their way.”

  Darcy was then in the Captain’s cabin. A man and a woman occupied the room. Joining their hands over the rough table at which they sat, they wished each other Merry Christmas.

  “If I harbor any regrets of the past, it is not being able to see your face on Christmas these last six years. Nor to witness your delight in singing Christmas songs this day, Anne,” said the Captain.

  “Frederick, please do not find regret in the past. It cannot be changed. Six years may seem long now, but in the sum of our existence are but a few. I fell in love with your youth in my youth. I fell in love with the man you are now, as the woman I am now.”

  “You harbor no regrets then?”

  “I shall always have a small scar on my heart for what might have been. But it in no way damages the delight for what I have now.”

  While listening to the couple and thinking what a solemn thing it was to live without the woman you love for six years, it was a great surprise to Darcy to hear a hearty laugh. It was a much greater surprise to Darcy to recognize it as Bingley’s and to find himself in a bright, dry, gleaming room, with the Spirit standing smiling by his side, and looking at Bingley with approving affability!

  “Ha, ha!” laughed Bingley. “Ha, ha, ha!”

  “I know of no man who delights more in a laugh than Bingley,” Darcy told the Spirit.

  “There is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good-humor,” the Spirit replied. Bingley laughed, and then the assembled family and friends joined in; Elizabeth even managed a smile.

  “Ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha, ha!”

  Elizabeth set down her cup of tea and looked out the window of Netherfield, unconsciously reenacting Darcy’s typical stance. Her face was serious in contrast to those around her.

  Jane, Charles, and Mr. Bennet watched her actions with concern. The rest of the party ignored her except for Miss Bingley.

  “How interesting,” said Miss Bingley, “that the witty Miss Bennet is not as pleasant as she might be? I should be relieved that she has finally learned to keep her tongue still.”

  “Caroline, Miss Bennet might hear you,” cautioned Louisa.

  Turning to her sister, Caroline shrugged and said, “He is so very rich, Louisa, and handsome, and he cannot have affections for Miss Bennet or else he would be here. I shall take his absence as a sign that he is over his infatuation.”

  Jane approached the window and laid her hand on Elizabeth arm. Shortly before Jane married, Elizabeth had confided a little of her feelings for Darcy to her sister.

  “I am well, Jane, perfectly well,” Elizabeth reassured her sister.

  “I shall put as much faith in those words as when I voiced the same last summer,” said Jane.

  “At least you had some small hope of having your words proven false, while I have none.”

  “Oh, but I have hope for you!” said Jane. “And for him. I am sorry for him; I could not be angry with him if I tried. He also suffers, I am sure, Elizabeth.”

  “Jane, I wish I could I believe that.”

  “It is Christmas, Elizabeth. A time for wishes to come to true.” She hugged her sister.

  In the blink of an eye, the room filled with more guests. Everyone was talking about the dinner they had just consumed and praised it for being fine.

  “Well! I’m very glad to hear it,” teased Bingle
y, “because I do not have great faith in these young housekeepers. What do you say, Topper?”

  His friend answered, “A bachelor was a wretched outcast, who has no right to express an opinion on the subject. When I find myself in your happy circumstances, I will offer an opinion.” Topper cast his eyes over Elizabeth, clearly taken with this new sister-in-law of his friend. Darcy stepped in front of Elizabeth as if to hide her from the man’s gaze, quite forgetting that the occupants of the room could not see him.

  After tea, they had some music. Caroline played on the harp; and Elizabeth played a simple little air, which had been familiar to Darcy from childhood. When this strain of music sounded, his mind drifted to the meeting at Pemberley and memories came upon his mind; he softened with each thought and reflected that he could have listened to her for eternity. His memories were shattered when Mary Bennet took over pianoforte duties.

  But the company did not devote the whole evening to music. Games came next, especially their childhood favorites, for it is good to return to childhood sometimes and there never is a better time than Christmas. First they played forfeits, then came the game of blind-man’s bluff that caused Darcy’s jealousy to rise.

  The Spirit and Darcy gazed upon the revelers. “The way Topper goes after Elizabeth is an outrage on the credulity of human nature. I no more believe Topper is really blind than I believe he has eyes in his boots,” said Darcy harshly. “Knocking down the fire-irons, tumbling over the chairs, bumping against the piano, smothering himself among the curtains, wherever she goes, there he goes. He always knows where Elizabeth is. He does not try to catch anybody else. My opinion is there is a conspiracy between him and Miss Bingley.” The Ghost of Christmas Present nodded in agreement, only remarking that a pretty young lady of marriageable age often attracted admirers.

  Elizabeth laughed, “It is not fair, you never try for anyone else.”

  At last, Topper caught her, and under the mistletoe too. Darcy was outraged as Topper stole a kiss that should have gone to him. Elizabeth seemed quite surprised by the kiss, for her mind had not been on this friend of Bingley’s.

  Jane had not joined the blind-man’s buff party, but was made comfortable with a large chair and a footstool, in a snug corner, where the Ghost and Darcy stood close behind her. She did join in the game of How, When, and Where, and she was very good and—to the secret joy of Bingley—beat her sisters hollow. There might have been twenty people there, young and old, but they all played, and after awhile so did Darcy; often forgetting, in the interest he had in what was going on, that his voice made no sound in their ears, he sometimes came out with his guess quite loud (especially when it was Topper’s turn to answer), and very often guessed quite right too.

  The Ghost was greatly pleased to find him in this mood, and looked upon him with such favor that he begged like a boy to be allowed to stay until the guests departed. “Here is a new game,” said Darcy. “One half hour, Spirit, only one!”

  It was a Game called Yes and No, where Bingley had to think of something and the rest must find out what, he only answering yes or no to their questions as the case was. The brisk fire of questioning to which he was exposed elicited from him that he was thinking of an animal, a live animal, rather a disagreeable animal, a savage animal, an animal that growled and grunted sometimes, and talked sometimes, and lived in London, and walked about the streets, and wasn’t made a show of, and wasn’t led by anybody, and didn’t live in a menagerie, and was never killed in a market. At last Mrs. Bennet cried out:

  “I have found it out! I know what it is! I know what it is!”

  “What is it?” cried Bingley.

  “Mr. Darcy!”

  “Mama, it certainly is not!” cried Elizabeth. However, there was much admiration for Mrs. Bennet’s answer and only a few objections. Mr. Bingley was one who did object.

  “It is not so, my dear Mrs. Bennet. He encouraged me to go after a most precious gift,” said Bingley, looking at Jane, “and it would be ungrateful of me not to drink his health. Here is a glass of mulled wine ready for our hands,” he said as footmen carried trays of wine around the room. “I say Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you, Darcy, wherever you are!”

  “Mr. Darcy!” the guests cried.

  “A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth softly.

  Darcy had imperceptibly become so gay and light of heart that he would have pledged the unconscious Elizabeth in return if the Ghost had given him time. But the whole scene passed off in the breath of the last word spoken by Elizabeth and he and the Spirit were again upon their travels.

  The Spirit took Darcy to foreign lands where young soldiers read letters from their faithful ladies back home. They stood beside sick beds, where husbands attended their wives and vice versa; they saw couples in poverty; they saw struggling men and their patient wives who held greater hopes, and couples whose hopes had been fulfilled and now lived in riches.

  It was a long night, if it were only one night and Darcy had his doubts of this, because the Christmas holidays appeared to be condensed into the space of time they passed together. It was strange too, that while not seeming to melt, the candles on the Ghost’s head grew shorter and shorter. Darcy had observed this change, but never spoke of it until they left a children’s Twelfth Night party, when, looking at the Spirit as they stood together in an open place, he noticed that the lights were almost out.

  “Your candles are almost burnt out; do you not need new ones?”

  “These are the only candles that I need. When they are gone, I am gone.”

  “Are spirits’ lives so short?” asked Darcy.

  “My life upon this globe is very brief,” replied the Ghost. “It ends tonight.”

  “Tonight!” cried Darcy.

  “Tonight at midnight. Hark! The Time is drawing near.”

  The chimes were ringing the three quarters past eleven at that moment.

  “Forgive me if I am not justified in what I ask,” said Darcy, looking intently at the Spirit’s robe, “but I see something strange and not belonging to yourself protruding from behind your skirts. Is it a foot or a claw?”

  “It might be a claw, for what little flesh there is upon it,” was the Spirit’s sorrowful reply. “Look here.”

  From the folds of her dress, she brought forth two children, a boy and girl, wretched, abject, frightful, hideous, and miserable. They knelt down at her feet and clung upon the outside of her garment.

  “Darcy, look down here!” instructed the Ghost.

  Their appearance was that of horrible and dreadful monsters. Yellow, meager, ragged, scowling, and wolfish devils that glared out of menacing eyes. Their stained and shriveled hands looked ready to pinch and pull, and tear him into shreds.

  Darcy started back, appalled. “Spirit, are they yours?” Darcy asked.

  “They are yours,” said the Spirit, looking down upon them. “And they cling to me, fleeing from their father. This boy is Fear. This girl is Pride. Beware of both of them and all of their degree, for much good is prevented when they work together. But most of all beware this boy. For he will take over your life, and you will live in his shadow, instead of he in yours,” warned the Spirit, stretching out her hand towards Rosings, as they were among the hedgerows now.

  “See what happens when fear and pride take over a life.”

  Darcy and the Spirit were now in the dining room of Rosings. Lady Catherine sat at one end of the long table, her daughter about half way down, next to Mrs. Jenkins. Anne sniffed and coughed her way through dinner. Lady Catherine ignored her and kept a running monologue.

  “Lady Catherine, the staff was wondering if they could have the rest of the evening off,” the butler interrupted.

  “They already have half a day tomorrow. That is sufficient; any more is taking advantage of my generosity and I will not allow that.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the butler bowed out. Lady Catherine continued her monologue, criticizing and advising on everything f
rom Mr. Collins’s sermon, to the lack of cleanliness in both stables and mangers (how on the earth the Savior was allowed to be born there, she had no reason, she only knew that she would have planned the event much better), to the presumptions of servants, through dinner and into the drawing room afterwards.

  Darcy felt like covering his ears to end the monotonous sound of Lady Catherine’s voice.

  The mantel clock struck twelve.

  Darcy looked about him for the Ghost and saw it not. As the last stroke ceased to vibrate, he remembered the prediction of his father and, lifting up his eyes, beheld a solemn site. The drawing room vanished around Lady Catherine, and as she stood, her chair vanished, fog seemed to cover the ground, and in the blink of an eye she changed.

  Chapter 4

  Christmas Future

  Now Lady Catherine was draped in a black gown, with a hooped skirt and bodice cut low, exposing too much bony bosom. Her head was ringed by sausage curls, looking grotesquely girlish against a face that seemed to consist of little more than flesh covering bone. There was no life in her face. There was no life in her eyes. She seemed to glide towards him in a most unnerving manner.

  He felt her come beside him, and her mysterious presence filled him with a solemn dread.

  “Am I in the presence of the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come?” asked Darcy.

  The Spirit answered not but pointed onward with its hand.

  “You are about to show me shadows of the things that have not happened, but will happen in the time before us,” Darcy pursued. “Is that so, Spirit?”

  The Spirit inclined her head. That was the only answer he received. It was doubly chilling, this lack of voice in the body of one usually so verbal.

  Although well used to ghostly company by this time, Darcy feared the silent shape so much that his legs trembled beneath him, and he found that he could hardly stand when he prepared to follow it. The Spirit paused a moment, observing his condition, and gave him time to recover.

  But Darcy was all the worse for this. It filled him with a vague uncertain horror to know that there were ghostly eyes intently fixed upon him.