A Darcy Christmas

by Amanda Grange

  He smiled and, with one last look around the room, he went down to the first floor. He gave instructions to his valet for the morrow, then he went downstairs and rang for Mrs. Reynolds.

  “Mrs. Darcy has no doubt told you of our plans for tomorrow,” he said.

  “Yes, sir, she has.”

  “I want to make sure that everything is done for her comfort. Blankets in the coach, a hot brick for her feet, a hamper of food with some tempting delicacies, and plenty of cushions.”

  Mrs. Reynolds assured him that everything would be done. Content that he had made all the necessary plans, he made ready to escort his wife around the park in the phaeton.

  As they set out, Elizabeth looking radiant in a new blue cloak, Darcy privately thought that the ride might show her she was not capable of making such a long journey by coach on the morrow. But instead of finding it uncomfortable she found it exhilarating. She was by nature active, and if she could not walk round the park, then to drive was the next best thing.

  “You did not find it too tiring?” he asked her as he handed her out of the phaeton after an hour.

  “Not at all. And I will not find the coach journey too tiring either,” she said mischievously.

  “Then I admit myself beaten. We will set off at two o’clock,” he said.

  * * *

  There was a light covering of snow the following day. The whiteness glittered in the sunshine as it lay across the open expanse of the moor.

  When Elizabeth stepped outside after lunch, the sharp, clean air stung her cheeks and made them glow. Darcy handed her into the coach. She settled herself, with some difficulty, on the comfortable seats, and he wrapped her round with blankets. She put her feet on the hot brick, the door was closed, and, with a crunching sound as the wheels began to roll across the frosted gravel, they were off.

  Elizabeth felt her spirits rise as they bowled down the drive and turned into the road. She had not set foot beyond the gates for a week, and she was looking forward to the journey.

  It was now almost three months since Jane and Bingley had left Netherfield. It had been a comfortable house and it had created many happy memories for them, but it was too near to Mrs. Bennet to be truly home. Mrs. Bennet had had a habit of visiting every day, sometimes two or three times a day, and if it was not Mrs. Bennet, then it was one of the other relations. Jane, always softhearted, had not liked to tell them that, although she loved them, she did not want to see them quite so often; and even Bingley, the most mild-mannered of men, had been heard to remark on several occasions that he wished the Bennets were not quite so near.

  Since the Bennets could not be expected to move, and since Netherfield was only rented, the problem was solved once Jane and Bingley found a house of their own to buy. They had wisely ignored the suitable houses in Hertfordshire and looked further north, near Lizzy and Darcy. After many months of searching, they had found the perfect house and they had taken up residence there at the end of summer.

  The house had at first not been fit for visitors, and afterwards, Elizabeth’s condition had made travelling difficult, so that Elizabeth and Darcy had not yet visited, and Elizabeth was eager to see it.

  The coach drove through Derby, a bustling city, and Darcy asked Elizabeth if she would like to stop for some refreshment, but she was eager to arrive. So they travelled on into Nottinghamshire, where the countryside became softer and more smiling. Gone were the moors and instead there were fields, separated from the road by hedgerows, which were covered with glittering spiders’ webs.

  The snow gradually disappeared as they moved further south and, as they approached Jane’s new neighbourhood, they saw open fields with a river meandering through.

  “We are almost there,” said Elizabeth, her excitement mounting at the thought of seeing Jane again.

  The coachman took a wrong turn and had to ask for directions, but they were soon on the right road and turned in between tall gates. They travelled through a deer park until the house came into view. It was an imposing house in the English Renaissance style, its pale stone looking serene in the midday light.

  The coach came to a halt outside the front door, which opened immediately, and Bingley came down the steps, hands outstretched to greet them.

  “My dear Darcy! And Elizabeth! Upon my honour, I have never seen you looking better. But it is cold out here. Come, let us go inside.”

  He asked them about the journey as they went indoors, and they remarked upon the splendour of the house, but there was only one thing Elizabeth really wanted to do and that was to see her sister and her new nephew.

  Bingley conducted them to the nursery, where a large fire crackled cheerily in the grate. And there was Jane, looking matronly and happy, by the side of the crib.

  “Lizzy! Oh, how glad I am to see you!” she said, jumping up and kissing Lizzy affectionately. “I hoped you would come, but with the weather being against us and your time being so near I did not depend upon it.”

  “I could not resist. The opportunity to see you was too tempting, and the chance to see little Charles was irresistible,” said Elizabeth.

  She embraced Jane and then bent over the crib, where the newest addition to the Bingley family lay sleeping. His little fists were curled up sweetly, and his expression was contented.

  “He has your nose and Bingley’s chin,” said Elizabeth. “I cannot yet tell about his eyes. Oh, Jane, he is beautiful.”

  “I think he is the most beautiful baby I have ever seen,” said Jane.

  “As our baby has not been born yet, I will not argue with you!” said Elizabeth. “He shall be the most beautiful baby in England until then. Have you decided what to name him?”

  “Charles Edward Fitzwilliam Bingley,” said Jane.

  “A very large name for a very small baby!” said Darcy, who was looking down at the infant with some interest.

  “He will grow into it, never fear,” said Bingley, who looked at his son with adoration.

  “I did not expect to find you up,” said Elizabeth to her sister. “I thought you would still be lying in.”

  “And so I would be, if we were still at Netherfield, for Mama would have been scandalised otherwise, but here I am mistress in my own home. I felt well enough to rise this morning, although I must admit the birth was very tiring.”

  As the conversation seemed to be in danger of moving into realms that Bingley and Darcy would rather know nothing about, the two gentlemen excused themselves, whilst Elizabeth settled down for a long and interesting conversation with Jane about the birth of little Charles.

  “Well, what do you think?” asked Bingley as the two men went downstairs.

  “I think it is a very fine house,” said Darcy. “You have done well. You remembered to ask about the chimneys, I hope?”

  “Oh, the chimneys!” said Bingley. “I did not mean the house, I meant—”

  “I know,” said Darcy with a laugh.

  “Of course! I had forgotten that Elizabeth has taught you how to tease people! Well, what do you think? Is he not the most handsome baby you have ever seen? Is he not the strongest, the healthiest, the happiest baby it has ever been your pleasure to meet?” he asked as he led Darcy into the drawing-room.

  “I have met very few infants and so yes, I can say he is.”

  “Darcy!”

  “Very well then! I agree with whatever you say. He is a very fine boy. I can say this in all sincerity: he is lucky to have such a father.”

  “Do you really think so?” asked Bingley. He beamed whilst looking anxious at the same time. “I was elated when he was born. When I first heard him cry I felt an enormous sense of pride—”

  There came a snort from the sofa, where Mr. Hurst, Charles Bingley’s brother-in-law, was lying, apparently asleep.

  “Ah, yes,” said Bingley, momentarily diverted. “My family are here. Caroline arrived a month ago to run the household whilst Jane was indisposed, and Louisa arrived with her husband last week. My brother-in-law, as you see, is
resting.”

  Darcy raised one eyebrow. Mr. Hurst spent most of his life on the sofa and Bingley knew, as well as Darcy, that indolence, not the need for rest, was the reason.

  The snort resolved itself into words as Mr. Hurst opened one eye.

  “Felt an enormous sense of pride?” he asked. “Thought nothing of the sort. As soon as you heard that cry, you said, ‘I’ve killed them!’ and strode around the room like a man demented, moaning, ‘They’re dead. It’s all my fault!’”

  “Nonsense!” said Bingley, but his laugh was a little sheepish.

  Darcy smiled, but beneath his smile was a sense of understanding. He had been elated when Elizabeth had told him that she was expecting a child, but he had been anxious too and, try as he might, he could not rid himself of the anxiety. If anything should happen to her…

  He was luckily saved from further reflections by the appearance of Caroline, who, together with Louisa, now entered the room.

  “Mr. Darcy,” said Caroline warmly.

  She had at first been incensed when she had discovered that he meant to marry Elizabeth Bennet, but she had quickly come to realise that unless she put on a glad, or at least a polite, face, she would lose Darcy’s friendship, and she would never be invited to Pemberley.

  “You have brought the bad weather with you I fear,” said Caroline.

  It was true. The snow, which had been falling lightly in sporadic showers, was now falling thick and fast outside the window. It was melting as it hit the ground, but here and there, patches were settling and the lawns were already white.

  “I do hope it will not discommode your mother-in-law,” said Louisa.

  “No, indeed,” said Caroline in a droll voice. “It would be a tragedy if she was delayed and did not manage to arrive tomorrow as expected. But where is Elizabeth? You cannot have left her behind?”

  “She is upstairs with Jane,” said Darcy.

  “It quite reminds me of old times, when Jane was taken ill at Netherfield,” said Bingley. “She had a cold, I remember, which she had caught from riding in the rain. Elizabeth sat with her upstairs and then the two of them came down after dinner.”

  “Dear Jane will not be well enough to come downstairs today,” said Caroline. “She needs her rest.”

  “She was talking of it only this morning,” Bingley contradicted her.

  “My dear Charles, you must not allow it,” said Caroline. “It will be too much for her. I am at your disposal for as long as you need, you know that. I have managed the household not too ill this last month, as I am sure you will agree. Dear Jane need do nothing more than remain in the nursery until she is quite recovered.” She turned to Darcy. “I kept house for Charles before his marriage and as soon as Jane was no longer able to manage affairs, owing to her condition, I arrived at once to care for the household.”

  “That was very good of you!” remarked Darcy with a speaking glance at Bingley.

  “Yes, was it not?” said Bingley. “Caroline did not even wait for an invitation.”

  “I thought it my duty to come. The inconvenience was nothing to me, and family, you know, never wait for an invitation,” said Caroline.

  She walked across the room, displaying her figure, and then seated herself at the pianoforte and began to play.

  “This is your favourite song, is it not, Mr. Darcy?” she asked.

  He was forced to admit that it was, but he was saved from further attentions by Bingley saying, “I still have not shown you the billiard room, Darcy. Would you care for a game?”

  Darcy agreed with alacrity and the two men left the room.

  “Why did you not tell Caroline that she was not needed?” asked Darcy. “You have a house full of servants to look after you, and I am sure Jane does not want her here.”

  “Oh, you know, Darcy, Caroline is not so bad. She is very efficient and she frightens the servants into honesty.”

  “Honesty?” asked Darcy in surprise.

  At that moment, a movement caught his eye and he saw Elizabeth coming down the stairs. She had evidently overheard their conversation for she said to Bingley, “So my father was right! He said that you and Jane were both so complying that nothing would ever be resolved upon and that every servant would cheat you.”

  “Yes, well, perhaps we are too easygoing,” admitted Bingley. Then he asked eagerly, “How is Jane? Do you think she is looking well?”

  “I think she is looking very well,” Elizabeth assured him. “And very happy.”

  “And the baby?”

  “He is contented. He is sleeping. Jane is resting now, but she hopes to join us in the drawing-room after dinner.”

  “There you are! What did I say?” asked Bingley in delight. “I knew she would join us. Darcy and I were just going into the billiard room, but we will gladly return to the drawing-room with you if you wish.”

  “Caroline is in the drawing-room,” remarked Darcy.

  “Ah!” said Elizabeth. “Then I will come and watch the two of you play.”

  They went into the billiard room. Darcy and Elizabeth commented on its fine proportions and remarked on the beauty and elegance of the house.

  “It took us a long time to find it, but it has repaid our efforts,” said Bingley. “Jane and I are both settled here and we mean to make this our ancestral seat. Perhaps one day it will be as renowned as Pemberley.”

  Darcy and Bingley began to play and Elizabeth looked around the room, thinking that Jane had chosen very well. The house was comfortable and elegant, and she knew that Jane was very happy with it. It gave her great pleasure to think of Jane being so well settled, and within an easy distance of Pemberley.

  The three of them exchanged news as the two men played. When the game was over, Elizabeth and Darcy retired to their suite of rooms to dress for dinner. Jane and Charles kept country hours and dinner was served, in the winter, almost as soon as it was dark.

  “Now, are you glad I talked you into coming?” Elizabeth asked her husband as she sat down at her dressing table and began to unpin her hair.

  He helped her in her task, taking the pins out of her dark hair and letting it fall about her shoulders. He stroked it, letting his hands linger on the soft tresses.

  “Yes, I am, as long as you are not feeling any ill effects from the journey.”

  “No, none at all other than a little fatigue. I think I will lie down for half an hour before changing for dinner.”

  She suited the action to the words and Darcy rubbed her feet in a way she found relaxing and pleasurable. She was glad to have some time alone with him. She had greatly enjoyed talking to Jane, and she had adored seeing the baby, but she had grown used to having Darcy to herself and she treasured their time alone. They stayed together, talking, until the clock struck the hour, and then they changed for dinner.

  Elizabeth took Darcy’s arm and they descended the stairs. Jane and Bingley were in the hall, and together they went into the drawing-room.

  Elizabeth’s eye ran round the room as she entered, noting the grand fireplace, the comfortable sofas, and the rich gold drapes, which had been drawn across the tall windows to keep out the December darkness. By the fire, which was burning with a cheery glow, was a screen which Jane had painted herself and a small table on which were several ornaments from the Bennet household, remembrances of home.

  “Elizabeth, how well you look,” said Caroline, rising and greeting her. She turned to Jane. “My dear sister, are you sure you should be downstairs?”

  “I am quite well, I do assure you,” said Jane.

  Caroline opened her mouth, but Elizabeth looked at her, and Caroline quickly shut it again, for she had no wish to cross wits with Elizabeth. If she did, she was uncomfortably aware that she would come off the loser.

  Bingley conducted Jane over to the fire and then arranged the screen to keep her out of any drafts.

  “And how is my nephew?” asked Caroline.

  “He is very well and sleeping,” said Jane.

  “I do d
eclare he is twice the size he was when he was born. He will be a fine boy before long,” said Louisa.

  “He is a fine boy already,” said Bingley. “I never saw finer. His little fingers and toes, you never saw the like!”

  “Do not encourage him or Charles will talk of nothing else,” said Caroline.

  Indeed, the new son and heir formed most of Bingley’s conversation over dinner, and although Jane and Elizabeth managed to talk of other things from time to time, the new arrival formed most of Jane’s conversation too.

  “And how is Pemberley, Mr. Darcy?” asked Caroline.

  “The estate is thriving, thank you.”

  “And your sister? Dear Georgiana, how I long to see her again.”

  “She too is well. She is spending Christmas with friends.”

  “Is she not young for such a visit?” asked Caroline.

  “She is almost eighteen,” Darcy reminded her. “She will be coming out in the spring.”

  “You will be going to town for the Season then,” said Caroline. She turned to her brother. “I told you, Charles, that you must buy a house in town, and see, I was right. If you will only bestir yourself, you can spend the spring in town and help Georgiana by escorting her to balls and such like.”

  “I will be busy here,” said Charles.

  “Then let me find a house for you.”

  “We really couldn’t put you to so much trouble,” said Jane.

  “It is no trouble. I would like nothing better,” said Caroline. “There, it is settled.”

  Jane and Bingley looked at each other helplessly and Elizabeth thought that Caroline would very likely carry the day. She refrained from interfering but managed to say to Jane, as the ladies withdrew, “If you wish me to dissuade her, you have only to say the word.”

  “Say nothing yet,” said Jane. “It will give her something to think about.”

  “Something other than running the household and telling you what to do, do you mean?” asked Lizzy mischievously, as the two ladies crossed the hall behind Caroline and Louisa.

  “She has been very kind, really she has,” said Jane. “Although I cannot think so well of her as I once did, for there is no denying that she tried to separate me from Charles, I believe she has seen the error of her ways and I think she is trying to make amends. She has been very helpful over the last few weeks; indeed, I would have found it difficult to manage without her. She has taken over everything.”