A Darcy Christmas

by Amanda Grange

  She looked around the room, assessing each gentleman in turn. “She has already danced with young Lindford and Captain Collins…”

  “Captain Collins?” asked Elizabeth. “I did not know he had arrived.”

  “Yes. In fact, here he is now with my husband.”

  Coming towards them were two men. The elder, Mr. Withington, was a plain but affable looking man of about fifty years of age and next to him was a very handsome young man indeed, with a good bearing and a good-humoured countenance. Elizabeth’s eyes widened in surprise. He was nothing like Mr. Collins!

  Mr. Withington saw his wife and walked over to her, bringing Captain Collins with him. He made the introductions and Elizabeth greeted him warmly.

  Kitty, hearing the name of Captain Collins, kept her back firmly turned towards him and talked to Maria with a determined animation, but when Mr. Withington addressed her by name she was forced to turn round, her face a picture of mulish resignation. But on seeing Captain Collins, her eyebrows rose and her expression brightened so much that the transformation was comical.

  “You look surprised,” said he to Kitty. “Have I done something to startle you?”

  “No, not exactly. It is just… well, you are not what I was expecting, that is all.”

  “I did not know that you were expecting anything, but perhaps my reputation precedes me,” he said.

  “In a way it does. You see, I know your brother.”

  “Indeed?”

  “Yes. You are not very like him. In fact, you are not like him at all. You do not seem like the sort of man who would have a brother in the church.”

  “We are four brothers. Out of so many, one of us was almost certain to be a clergyman.”

  “Four of you?” asked Kitty. “I had no idea. And are you all so very different?”

  “Yes, I believe we are. Your friend is the cleverest of us—”

  Kitty looked startled at this, and Elizabeth was no less surprised, for it did not seem possible that Mr. Collins should be the cleverest of any family. But she concluded that Captain Collins was being kind.

  “And my brother Samuel, who is in the navy, is the handsomest,” went on Captain Collins. “He has broken a dozen hearts already and he is only nineteen. Henry is the pompous one. He is already making his mark in politics and is such a windbag that he cannot fail to do well. But enough of them. Would you consent to tell me more about yourself as we dance?”

  And so saying, he offered her his hand.

  She accepted with alacrity and the two of them, making a handsome couple, went onto the floor.

  “Well!” said Mrs. Bennet. She had seen everything from the other side of the room and she had now joined Elizabeth in her desire to talk about it. “Did I not tell you how it would be? I knew it. Another daughter married. What luck!” She looked around the room for Mr. Collins and beckoned him over. “I must congratulate you on your brother,” she said. “My girls have just been introduced to him. Such a handsome man!”

  Mr. Collins looked surprised but was quick to accept the compliment and said that his brother had been called an unusual looking gentleman by no less a personage than Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

  “And so he is, for such looks are not often to be met with,” said Mrs. Bennet. “He has all the advantages of a fine face and a fine person. Height, address, manners: all good. You must be very proud of him.”

  “Indeed we are. I may say that, after myself, he is the most notable member of the Collins family. He has not the good fortune to be patronised by such a great lady as Lady Catherine, but he has drawn down some very estimable patronage of his own.”

  “Yes, I am sure he has. Such a worthy young man will not fail to attract attention amongst influential people. He will quickly rise in life, I am sure. You must invite him to visit us at Longbourn. We would be very glad to have him with us.”

  “You are too kind,” said Mr. Collins.

  “Not at all. He is welcome at any time.”

  Mrs. Bennet watched Kitty and the Captain whilst Mr. Collins turned his attention to Mr. Bennet, complimenting him on his fine house, his elegant daughters, and his notable son-in-law.

  To put an end to the fulsome compliments, Mr. Bennet began to ask him about his brother and laughed quietly to himself as Mr. Collins continued to talk.

  The dance came to an end. Captain Collins escorted Kitty back to her family but then bowed and withdrew.

  “But what is this? Where is Captain Collins going?” asked Mrs. Bennet. “Why is he not staying to talk to us?”

  “He is engaged to Miss Porter for this dance,” said Kitty. “But never fear, he has asked to take me into supper.”

  Mrs. Bennet was in raptures.

  “What did I say? I knew how it would be. Kitty, my dear, you have never looked better. You are becoming quite a beauty. You are in looks tonight. And dance! I have never seen anyone lighter on their feet. We will have another wedding this year, you mark my words. Did I not say that Captain Collins was just the man for you? And what a life you will have! All the fun of being married to an officer, and then Longbourn when your father dies. What a thing for Mary and me, being secure in our home!”

  Elizabeth raised her eyebrows, but Kitty was too happy to mind about her mother’s matchmaking, and even the thought of living with her mother after her father’s death did not dampen her spirits. Indeed, she said she was sure that, by then, she and her husband would have enough money to build a dower house for Mrs. Bennet.

  Elizabeth was by this time so far rested that she was able to dance once more. She had not taken more than a dozen steps, however, when she gave a grimace.

  “Is anything the matter?” asked Darcy.

  “No, just a twinge,” she said. “But I think I had better sit down.”

  He gave her his arm and they rejoined her family. Mrs. Bennet asked if she was quite well and Jane looked at her in concern, but Elizabeth reassured them. Fortunately for Elizabeth, after a few minutes’ fussing, Mrs. Bennet saw Captain Collins coming towards them, for supper had just been announced.

  “Now, Kitty, stand up straight,” she said.

  “Mama!” replied Kitty.

  “Ah Captain Collins, there you are,” said Mrs. Bennet. “All set to claim Kitty. It is a pleasure to see you both together, never were two people more well suited. I am sure your brother must feel it as much as we do. How fortunate for us that he was able to visit you this week.”

  Captain Collins looked surprised and said that he was not aware that his brother was in the neighbourhood.

  “Not in the neighbourhood? Why, Captain Collins, here is your brother before you,” she said, stepping back to reveal him.

  Captain Collins looked at her enquiringly, but Mrs. Bennet did not notice his perplexed expression, for she was too busy congratulating Mr. Collins on having such a delightful brother.

  “But that is not my brother,” said Mr. Collins. “He sent his apologies this afternoon, business preventing him from attending this most worthy and illustrious gathering.”

  “Not your brother?” asked Mrs. Bennet, staring at Mr. Collins. “Of course he is your brother. He was introduced to us by Mr. Withington and Mr. Withington would not lie about such a thing.”

  Elizabeth stifled a gurgle of laughter. “Mama, Mr. Withington introduced him as Captain Collins; he said nothing about him being Mr. Collins’s brother. Collins, you know, is not an uncommon name.”

  Mrs. Bennet was dumbfounded. But she quickly recovered herself.

  “No, indeed, it is very common,” she said, sounding very much aggrieved. “I never met with such a common name in my life, indeed it is very vulgar. Twice now my girls have been deceived by a man named Collins.”

  “Mama!” said Elizabeth.

  But Mrs. Bennet was unrepentant until Captain Collins apologized most gallantly—and with laughing eyes—for not being the brother of their friend.

  “He is no friend of mine,” said Mrs. Bennet bitterly.

  Elizabeth was mo
rtified, and Darcy touched her arm in silent sympathy.

  Mr. Collins, meanwhile, apologized so many times for not being related to the most admirable captain that Mrs. Bennet at last recovered her good humour. A good-looking Captain was not to be overlooked, even if he was not in line for the entail.

  It was time for supper. Captain Collins escorted Kitty, and the rest of the guests began to file through to the supper room.

  As Elizabeth took Darcy’s arm she gave another grimace and said to Darcy, “Do you know, I do not feel like eating. In fact, I am feeling a little unwell. I think I will retire for the night.”

  Jane, who had been following Elizabeth into supper, said, “Would you like me to come with you?”

  “Yes,” said Elizabeth. “I rather think I would if you do not mind leaving your guests.”

  “They are all going into supper and after that, you know, they will be going home,” said Jane. “The weather being so bad, we thought it best to set an early end to the evening. I will stay with you until supper is over and then I will come down again to bid them farewell.”

  Supported on one side by Darcy and on the other by her sister, Elizabeth made her way slowly upstairs, but by the time they reached her room it was clear that she was feeling more than a little unwell.

  The baby was on the way.

  Darcy, feeling suddenly helpless, stood awkwardly beside the door.

  “The doctor is downstairs,” said Jane. “Go and fetch him?”

  Glad, for once, to be told what to do, Darcy ran downstairs and went into the supper room. He looked about him and caught sight of the doctor at the end of the table. He went over to him and spoke to him in a low voice. The doctor nodded, excused himself, and rose to his feet. Bingley, sensing something was happening, followed them, leaving the rest of the guests to enjoy themselves.

  “I think it would be as well if you were to have a message sent to the midwife,” said the doctor as he began to mount the stairs. “Her name is Mrs. Parsons, and she lives on the far side of the village green. The footmen will know where to find her.”

  Darcy gave instructions for the midwife to be fetched, then made to follow the doctor upstairs.

  “No,” came a voice at his ear. “You cannot go up. They will not let you in the room. I know. I tried.”

  Darcy noticed Bingley for the first time. His thoughts had been so full of Elizabeth that he had not seen him, but he was very glad of his friend’s presence. There was something reassuring about Bingley’s good-natured countenance and his friendly voice.

  “Of course. You know. You have already been through this,” said Darcy.

  He tried to speak lightly, as though his wife had a baby every day of the week, but his voice was full of anxiety and his face was strained.

  Bingley put a friendly hand on his arm.

  “Come and eat some supper,” he said. “Nothing will happen for quite some time, believe me.”

  “Some supper?” asked Darcy incredulously, looking at Bingley as if he had run mad. “You cannot expect me to eat at a time like this.”

  “It is difficult, I know, but you must make the effort. It is going to be a long night and you must keep your strength up.” As Darcy continued to look scandalised at the mere thought of eating when Elizabeth was suffering, Bingley added, “Elizabeth might need something, and you will be no use to her if you are weak from lack of food.”

  Darcy’s attitude changed at once and he followed Bingley into the supper room, but his eyes kept drifting upwards as though he thought that, by straining them, he might be able to see through the ceiling.

  Bingley led him over to a spare chair and with difficulty Darcy drew his eyes away from the ceiling and sat down. The long table was laid with a snowy cloth on which porcelain and silverware glistened. Pyramids of fruit were set in the middle on ornate stands, and every kind of dish was set on silver platters in between.

  Darcy looked at the appetising food as though it were ashes, for he could not think how he was going to eat any of it, but he knew he must make the effort, and with reluctance, he took some chicken and cold beef. He lifted a forkful of chicken to his mouth but it tasted like sawdust.

  Around him, the other guests talked. He tried to take an interest in their conversations, but everything they said seemed shallow and inconsequential and he could not bring himself to join in. Indeed, he scarcely knew how to answer them when they asked him a question.

  The grandfather clock’s pendulum seemed to swing in slow motion, as the seconds seemed like minutes and the minutes passed like hours.

  After answering one particularly stupid question he found himself wishing the guests would hurry up and leave, but when they had at last all departed and he had retired to the drawing-room, he realised how much more difficult it was without their presence. The noise and the necessity of making the odd response to a question had kept him turning outwards, but now he found his thoughts turning inwards. So it was with relief that he heard the door opening and Bingley entered the room.

  “Well, that is the last of them. They have all gone,” said Bingley.

  “And your sisters?” asked Darcy.

  “Louisa and her husband have retired for the night. Caroline offered to help with Elizabeth, but Jane told her there was nothing she could do and so Caroline too has gone to bed. Mrs. Bennet was with Elizabeth, but as she would talk of nothing but Kitty and Captain Collins, Jane has managed to persuade her that she should retire.”

  “So Elizabeth is with Jane as well as the doctor and the midwife?” asked Darcy.

  “Yes.” He spoke reassuringly. “She is in good hands.”

  Darcy nodded, then walked over to the fireplace where he stood lost in thought.

  “Come, you cannot stand about like this,” said Bingley. “You must do something. Have a hand of cards with me.”

  “I cannot think of cards at a time like this.”

  “A game of billiards, then.”

  “No!” snapped Darcy. Adding more gently, “No, thank you.”

  “You must do something, you know.”

  Darcy paced to the other side of the room and took up a book, but he quickly dropped it again.

  “It will be all right,” said Bingley sympathetically. “I imagined every kind of tragedy when Jane was giving birth, but here I am with a fine son and a healthy wife. It will be the same for you.”

  “If only I could believe that,” said Darcy, coming to a halt. “But I keep remembering…”

  He broke off.

  “Yes?” asked Bingley.

  “I keep remembering the night Georgiana was born.”

  “Ah.”

  Darcy sat down opposite his friend and leaned forwards with his elbows on his knees. He was not one to talk of his feelings in general, but there were so strong they would no longer be denied.

  “It was a terrible night,” he said.

  “You were ten years old at the time, I think.”

  “Yes.”

  Darcy could not help remembering the events of that night, although he tried to shut them out. The house had been strange. It had not been the safe and familiar home he had always known; it had been full of hurrying feet and anxious whispers.

  He remembered the maids running up and down stairs with bowls of hot water and armfuls of clean sheets, and their worried faces. He had tried to talk to them but they had not had time for him and so he had gone down to the drawing-room, drawn there by the light, hoping to find someone to comfort him. His father would be there, he thought, to give him some manly words of advice. But instead he had found his father crying. He had been so shocked by the sight that he had crept back to bed again unnoticed.

  The following day, he had been taken into the nursery and he had seen his little sister, Georgiana, but he had not been allowed to see his mother for three days, and when he had finally been allowed to see her, she had been sickly and pale.

  “My mother… I thought she would die,” he said.

  “But she did not die,” B
ingley reminded him.

  “No. But she was never the same again. Before she had Georgiana she was always riding or dancing or going out in the carriage. Afterwards she was sickly, and she died young. What if the same happens to Elizabeth? What if I have ruined forever her delight in roaming round the countryside? What if I have taken from her, her pleasure in dancing? What if I have turned her into an invalid—or worse.”

  “Come, now, these are morbid thoughts,” said Bingley bracingly.

  “I cannot expect you to understand,” said Darcy with a sigh, rising to his feet and turning away.

  “You are wrong, I do understand. I thought exactly the same. But we do not make things better by worrying about them. Time enough to worry if worry is needed.”

  Darcy roused himself.

  “You are right,” he said, making an effort. “Let us have a game of billiards. Lead on.”

  The two men went through into the billiard room, with Bingley speaking cheerfully all the time but not burdening Darcy with the trouble of expecting a reply. He set up the table and handed Darcy a cue and the two men began to play.

  Darcy did his best to keep his mind on the game, but his shots were wild and Bingley won easily.

  “Perhaps I should go up,” said Darcy when the game was over. “I could just see how she goes on.”

  Bingley advised against it, but his words fell on deaf ears, for Darcy was already halfway up the stairs.

  At the top, he met Jane just coming out of Elizabeth’s room. Jane was looking tired, but she smiled when she saw Darcy.

  “How is she?” he asked.

  “She is doing well,” said Jane reassuringly. “There is nothing to worry about. I will come down and tell you when there is any news.”

  “Come down regularly,” he beseeched her. “Let me know how she is going on—but not if Elizabeth needs you,” he added.

  “Very well,” she promised him. “I will come down often. Now go, and try not to worry. Everything will be all right.”

  Reluctantly, he went downstairs and joined Bingley in a hand of cards, though he threw away his chances through inattention and lost miserably when he should have won.