A Darcy Christmas

by Amanda Grange

  “The man is positively dreadful,” exclaimed Elizabeth.

  “Seeing clearly that it would be useless to pursue the point, we withdrew. We agreed that we had never met a more tight-fisted old sinner! Luckily for the Society, most of the businesses we approached were generous enough to give at least a little to our cause.”

  “I agree that he was most unpleasant, but as there is nothing extraordinary in that part of the tale, misers are not uncommon,” Darcy remarked.

  “I am getting to that part, never fear.” He took another sip of wine and leaned forward to continue his tale when the door to the parlor opened yet again.

  “Dinner is served,” announced the butler.

  “Can it not wait until the tale is done?” asked Alice.

  “No, no, my dear, the turkey is ready and must not be kept waiting; I shall finish the tale after our grand feast. Come along, Rebecca.” Taking his granddaughter’s hand, he led the exodus out of the parlor and into the dining room.

  * * *

  Sometime later, when bellies were full of a bountiful Christmas repast, the family retired to the large drawing room, where a Christmas tree stood tall and proud.

  “What think you of this new fashion, Darcy?” Mr. Gardiner asked, surveying the tree.

  “I like it very much,” exclaimed Rebecca. “It is very pretty.”

  “Yes, indeed, but I did not ask you, my dear.”

  “It is an old custom in some parts of the world, I am told. Whether it will remain in fashion here, only time will tell, but I like it well enough.”

  “As do I. Now dear Uncle, you have kept us in suspense long enough, do finish your story,” Elizabeth demanded.

  “Very well, my dear. Some members of the Benevolent Society gathered this morning, so we could deliver the goods we had purchased.”

  “Well, what happened to you?” demanded young Timothy Darcy.

  “I had decided to walk to our meeting, it being such a beautiful morning. I had not gone far when I beheld Mr. Scrooge coming toward me. Having no wish to remember the unpleasantness of the day before, I did my best to ignore the old gentleman, only to be waylaid by a hail from Scrooge himself.

  “‘My dear sir,’ he exclaimed, taking both my hands. ‘How do you do? I hope you succeeded exceptionally well yesterday. It was very kind of you. A Merry Christmas to you, sir!’

  “‘Mr. Scrooge?’ I asked, for I was dumbfounded and wondering if my memory was so faulty that I had attributed Scrooge’s faults onto an innocent look-alike.

  “He answered in the affirmative. ‘I fear my presence may not be pleasant to you. Allow me to ask your pardon. And will you have the goodness to accept a substantial donation to your cause, say £5,000?’”

  “Lord bless me!” croaked Bingley, his breath being taken away.

  “Was he serious, do you think?” commented Robert.

  “Very serious, for while I was still doubting what I heard, he continued, ‘Not a farthing less. A great many back-payments are included in it, I assure you. Will you do me that favor?’

  “‘My dear sir,’ I began to shake his hand most violently. ‘I don’t know what to say to such munificence—’

  “‘Don’t say anything, please,’ retorted Scrooge. ‘Come and see me. Will you come and see me?’

  “‘I will!’ I cried.

  “‘Thank you,’ said Scrooge. ‘I am much obliged to you. I thank you fifty times. Bless you!’

  “Well, I stood in the street for a good five minutes, trying to grasp what had just befallen before hurrying on to our meeting. I entered the room with such a stunned expression on my face that the others could not but wonder what had happened to me. So I told them the same story that I told you. The members rejoiced at what £5,000 could provide to those we serve. I mean to visit Scrooge at the earliest opportunity, for one cannot know how long such a transformation will last.”

  “I will believe it when the money is received and not a moment before,” Darcy stated, such was his ill impression of the man.

  “What could have occurred to cause such a transformation?” Elizabeth commented.

  “I wondered that myself and so I asked him.”

  “You spoke with him about it?” asked Jane.

  “Scrooge again hailed me as I was on my way here, he looked so pleasant and also younger. Yesterday I would have figured he was as old or older than myself.”

  “As ancient as that then?” Bingley asked with a twinkle in his eye.

  “Quite ancient, but it was his spirit and demeanor that made him appear so aged—in reality he is only a little older than yourself and Darcy. One of the Society members vaguely remembered that he was a young man when he established his business some thirty years ago. But let us return to the present Mr. Scrooge. ‘Good day, sir! A Merry Christmas to you! It seems to be our day for chance meetings. You are still coming to see me tomorrow?’

  “‘I nodded in agreement.’

  “‘And where are you off to?’ he asked.

  “I explained that I was going to have Christmas dinner with my family and he said he was about to do same. I thought he seemed excited yet anxious about the visit. He was about to turn away when I again thanked him very much for his generosity this morning.

  “He commented that he had not known that generosity could make a man feel so happy.

  “Emboldened by his response, I asked what had occurred to change him so, that only yesterday a penny was too much to give to the poor and today his liberality is overflowing.

  “‘I have been blessed by the Christmas Spirits, Mr. Gardiner, the Christmas Spirits have the way to making a man change his destiny,’ he said, before turning and walking away.”

  He did not see Darcy stiffen upon these words, but Elizabeth did and her hand reached out to clasp his.

  “At first, I thought he meant some sort of liquor, but I could tell he was not drunk. So, I wondered who are these spirits and how can I get hold of one of them?”

  “They only come when one is in need of them,” Darcy answered without thinking. And he was grateful for them every day. He looked around the room, at the faces of his family and friends, and knew he would be thankful until the day he died. Elizabeth reached over to him and clasped his hand.

  “What did you say?”

  “I say that it is time to light the candles upon the tree,” Elizabeth interrupted. “Now children, you must be very careful. Light only one candle and then back away. All the candles will be lit, never fear.”

  When the task was completed and the room aglow, Elizabeth began to play Christmas carols and the family joined in singing until their throats grew dry. Luckily, the servants were just then bringing in a large punch bowl. As soon as everyone had a cup, Bingley exclaimed, “I think we need a toast. Mr. Gardiner, will you do the honors?”

  “I propose we drink to Mr. Scrooge, for changing his heart in such a dramatic and generous manner, so God bless Mr. Scrooge.”

  Everyone drank to the toast.

  “Can I make a toast?” asked Timothy, tugging on Bingley’s coat.

  “Certainly. Come with me.” Bingley led the boy over to the piano bench and helped him stand upon it. “Your attention everyone, Master Timothy would like to make a toast.”

  “God Bless Grandmama and Grandfather, and Father and Mother and Uncle and Bingley and…” He broke off, looking around at the all faces in the room. “Ah, God bless us, every one!”

  Amanda Grange

  Christmas Present

  It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a married man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of an heir, and Mr. Darcy of Pemberley was just such a man. Moreover, he was soon to have that want satisfied, for his wife, Elizabeth, was expecting their first child. As he watched her reading her mail at the breakfast table, his heart swelled with pride.

  She opened a second letter and smiled.

  “Jane has had the baby!” she said. “A boy!”

  “So Bingley is a father,” said Darcy with evi
dent pleasure.

  “And Jane is a mother. Oh, my dear Jane, how proud and pleased she must be. Bingley is besotted,” said Elizabeth, returning to her letter. “Jane says she can scarcely persuade him to leave the nursery to eat and sleep. She adds, and it is not to be wondered at, for little Charles is the most beautiful baby you have ever seen.” Elizabeth looked up at Darcy. “Jane would like us to stay with her for Christmas. She says she can wait no longer to show us the new baby, as well as the new house. I am sure I cannot wait to see them. I will give orders for the packing at once.”

  “No, we cannot go and see them just yet,” said Darcy. He looked at his wife’s full figure as she rose unsteadily to her feet. “You forget your condition.”

  “I never forget my condition,” she said with a rueful smile, resting her hand on her rounded stomach.

  “We will wait a few weeks nevertheless,” he said. “It will be better that way.”

  “What nonsense! I am perfectly able to climb into the carriage, and that is all I need to do,” she said, laughing at him.

  “But you might have the baby on the way!” he said.

  “And I might not,” she replied.

  “We might be in a lonely spot, with no midwife to hand, and nothing but the coach to shelter you,” he protested. “No hot water, no maids, no Mrs. Reynolds. No, Lizzy, it will not do. I am sorry, my love, but I forbid it.”

  Instead of meekly obeying his command, Lizzy’s eyes sparkled and she said, “Ah! I knew how it would be. When we were newly married, you would deny me nothing, but now that a year and more has passed, you are showing your true colours and you expect me to obey you in everything!”

  “I doubt if you have ever obeyed anyone in your life,” he returned, sitting back and looking at her with a smile playing about his lips.

  “No, indeed I have not, for I have a mind of my own and I like to use it,” she said. “Otherwise, it might grow rusty with neglect.”

  He laughed. But he was not to be so easily talked out of his fears.

  “Only consider—”

  “I have considered!” she said. And then, more seriously, “Believe me, I have. I have scarcely ventured beyond the flower gardens these past few weeks and for the last sennight I have barely set foot out of the door, but I cannot do so forever. It is very wearing and very tedious. Mama’s first child was three weeks late, and if I am the same, there will be plenty of time for us to go and see Jane’s baby and still return to Pemberley before our baby is born. And besides, I want a family Christmas.”

  “Then let us invite your family here.”

  “No, it would not do,” said Lizzy, sitting down again. “Jane and the baby cannot travel. Besides, it is already arranged that the family will visit Jane’s new residence, Lowlands Park. Jane’s housekeeper has been preparing for the event for weeks. The rooms have been aired, the larder stocked, and the beds made up.” She took pity on him and said, “Jane’s new house is not so very far away. If we leave Pemberley after lunch we will be there in time for dinner, scarcely time for anything to happen. I promise you, if I feel any twinges before we set out then we will delay the journey.”

  “And what if you feel a twinge when we are halfway to Jane’s?”

  “Then we will carry on our way and I will be well looked after as soon as we arrive.” As he still looked dubious, she continued. “You know what the midwife said: ladies in my condition must be humoured, and my mind is made up,” she told him.

  Even before their marriage, Darcy had learnt that Elizabeth had a strong will, so that at last, he conceded to her wishes.

  “Then I had better let them know in the stables, and you had better tell Mrs. Reynolds that we intend to leave tomorrow. There will be a great many arrangements to be made if you are to have a comfortable journey.”

  “Thank you, my dear. I knew you would see sense!”

  He made a noise which sounded suspiciously like harrumph, and Elizabeth returned to her letters.

  “Is there any other news?” he asked.

  Elizabeth opened a letter from her mother and began to read it to herself. Every now and again she broke out to relate some absurdity.

  Darcy, now that he was at a safe distance from Mrs. Bennet, found that he could enjoy her foibles.

  “She thanks me for my letter,” said Elizabeth. Then she said, “Oh dear! Oh no!” She shook her head. “Poor Charlotte!”

  Darcy looked at her enquiringly and she read aloud from her letter.

  “Charlotte Lucas—although I should say Charlotte Collins, though why she had a right to Mr. Collins I will never know, as he was promised to you, Lizzy—called on us last Tuesday, for you must know that she and Mr. Collins are staying at Lucas Lodge. I saw at once what she was about. As soon as she walked in the room she ran her eyes over your father to see if he showed signs of illness or age. I am sure she will turn us out before he is cold in his grave. Thank goodness you have married Mr. Darcy, Lizzy, so that when your father dies we can all come and live with you, otherwise I do not know what we should do. My sister in Meryton does not have room for all of us, nor my brother in London, but at Pemberley there is room to spare—”

  “Then we must hope your father lives to a ripe old age!” interposed Darcy.

  Elizabeth laughed. “I am sure he will.” She began to read again. “We are setting out for Jane’s tomorrow and we mean to travel by easy stages, arriving on the 19th.” She broke off and said, “So they will be there in two days’ time. If we leave tomorrow then we will have Jane and the baby to ourselves for a day before Mama arrives.”

  She finished reading the letter to herself, then told him what it had contained, shorn of her mother’s ramblings.

  “Maria Lucas is going to Jane’s as well. She and Kitty have become firm friends and so Jane has invited her to keep Kitty company. I am glad of it. Mary is not much of a companion, as she spends her time either practising the pianoforte or reading sermons and making extracts from them. With Jane and I living our own lives and Lydia in the north, it must be lonely for Kitty.”

  “Your mother will no doubt find a husband for her before too long,” said Darcy.

  “I rather believe that is what she is hoping for this Christmas. There will be no other guests staying in the house, only family, but Mama hopes there will be entertainments in the evenings and visitors during the day, and that one of them might suit Kitty.”

  “But only if he has ten thousand a year!”

  “Yes,” said Lizzy. “You have quite spoilt Mama for other men!”

  “Or at least, for other fortunes!” said Darcy.

  “And now I must go and see Mrs. Reynolds, then in an hour, you must take me round the park in the phaeton.”

  Elizabeth left the room and Darcy finished his breakfast, then went out to the stables where he gave orders for the journey on the following day. As well as the usual instructions, he made it plain that he required one of the under grooms, a lad who was an expert horseman and a very fast rider, to be amongst the party and that he expected the lad to ride Lightning. This produced a startled reaction from the head groom, for Lightning was one of the most expensive horses in the stables. But Darcy was adamant. Although he did not say so, he wanted to be sure that help could be brought quickly if Elizabeth unexpectedly went into labour.

  At the mere thought of it, he almost decided to cancel the journey after all, but he knew it would give Elizabeth such pleasure that he could not deny her the treat.

  On leaving the stables he returned to the house and went upstairs to speak to his valet. As he did so he passed the foot of the stairs leading to the second floor, wherein lay the nursery, and on a sudden impulse he mounted them.

  They gave way to a corridor which was looking bright and cheerful, having been newly renovated. The windows had been cleaned and the view they gave over the Pemberley park was beautiful. Sweeping lawns spread in every direction, and beyond them lay the Derbyshire moor.

  He trod on the squeaking floorboard and smiled. Eliza
beth had at first wanted to replace it, but she had relented when he had told her that it reminded him of his childhood. When he had slept in the nursery, its sound had heralded the approach of visitors.

  His had been a happy childhood, roaming the grounds and climbing trees, loved by both parents, his beautiful mother and his austere father. From his mother had come open demonstrations of affection; from his father had come a solid feeling of security.

  “The Darcys have lived at Pemberley for over two hundred years,” his father had said to him. “It is a name to be proud of.”

  And he had been proud. Too proud on occasion, he thought uncomfortably, as he remembered his early relationship with Elizabeth. But she had taught him that too much pride led to incivility and, worse, blindness. Blindness to the qualities of others, regardless of their rank. And so he had mended his ways, and in doing so he had won his dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.

  He paused on the threshold of the nursery. It had been decorated in a sunny yellow and the window seat had been upholstered in a matching fabric decorated with rocking horses. The inspiration had been his old wooden rocking horse, which had been freshly painted and varnished. He had spent many happy hours playing on it, as he had spent many happy hours kneeling on the window seat and looking out at the gardens, his excitement brimming over as he had seen his first pony standing below.

  He turned to look at the cot in which he himself had slept, and he had a sudden memory of his mother bending over him illuminated by a halo of light coming from the candles on the landing behind her. He could almost hear the swish of her brocade dress as she bent over him, and feel the soft fall of powder on his cheek as she kissed him goodnight.

  And then the memory faded and he thought that here, soon, his own child would be sleeping, climbing on the window seat, riding on the rocking horse.

  He had always known he must marry and provide an heir for Pemberley, but with Elizabeth it was so much more than that. It was not just marrying and then having done with it; it was going through life together, exploring its new experiences side by side. And it was this, having a child together, becoming a family.