Of course, Mr Darcy would want an heir… Elizabeth’s cheeks flushed as the thought came to her. She was a country girl, had seen animals in the fields, and she was very well-read. Her father had never forbidden her any books in his collection, and some of the Greek classics in particular were quite informative. Elizabeth had a pretty fair idea of what happened in the marriage bed. The thought of herself with Mr Darcy…
With a loud groan, Elizabeth hurried to the ewer on the dressing-table, splashed cold water on her face. She was burning up! Perhaps she had caught Georgiana’s fever after all.
“No, I will not deceive myself,” she said aloud, catching sight of her reflection in the mirror, red-cheeked and wild-eyed. “This heat in me is no fever of illness, but my own wanton imaginings!”
She would never get to sleep now, she was sure, but knowing that Jane would come to wake her in a few hours she climbed into bed and closed her eyes. All she could see behind her closed eyelids was Mr Darcy’s face, though, looking at her with what she could only call hunger.
Darcy did not sleep much either that night, wondering if he had played his hand too soon. Elizabeth could not possibly misinterpret his admiration for her now as anything else, but whether she was prepared to accept his suit was another matter entirely. He would not press her; she needed time to decide if she returned his regard. His imagination would not be stilled, though, and he lay awake most of the night filled with fevered thoughts of Elizabeth as his wife, walking the halls of Pemberley at his side, her glorious dark eyes dancing up at him as she declared her adoration.
He rose at last heavy-eyed but not weary; how could he feel anything but joy when he knew that day he would see Elizabeth again, no matter what the circumstances?
Downstairs he found the breakfast room full of chattering children; the young Gardiners were excited at the prospect of decorating Longbourn for Christmas, and it seemed that their enthusiasm had infected the younger Bennet girls as well, for Lydia seemed just as excited as the little ones. Kitty was downstairs too, for the first time during his visit, earnestly discussing the best ways to make holly wreaths.
Mary as usual looked a little disapproving of such merriment, and Darcy was sure he heard her mutter something about ‘pagan symbolism’.
“Now, Mary, Our Lord never dictated exactly how His people should worship,” Mr Gardiner said paternally, “only that we should honour Him. Decorating a house in joy at this important time is nothing more than offering up a welcome to Our Lord and Saviour on the momentous occasion of the anniversary of his birth, is it not?”
“I suppose,” Mary said, a little ungraciously.
“Besides, it makes the children happy, and I am very certain there could be nothing more pleasing to Jesus than the sound of children’s joyous laughter.” Mr Gardiner sounded quite firm, as though daring Mary to disagree with him; Darcy thought that he should probably take notes from the older man on how to handle stubborn teenage girls and convince them to change their way of thinking. Mr Gardiner seemed to be very good at it.
A commotion in the hall turned out to be Bingley arriving, knocking freshly fallen snow from his hat as he handed it to Mrs Hill. Cries of “Is it snowing?” greeted him, and he smiled at the eager faces looking up at him.
“It began just as I passed through Meryton. Only a few flakes so far, but I think there is a deal more to come, from the looks of the sky. Thought I’d better come early to help you pick that holly.” Bingley’s smile was bright; Darcy was certain that he wanted nothing more than to see Jane, but he did not so much as mention her name, allowing himself to be swept back outside again by the Gardiner children and the younger Bennets, Mrs Bennet chasing after them shouting that Kitty must put on an extra shawl.
“What a commotion!” Mrs Gardiner laughed as the room emptied out. “Do sit down, Mr Darcy; would you care for some coffee?” She indicated the pot standing before her.
“Thank you,” Darcy took a seat and she poured for him, adding a little cream at his request before handing him the cup and saucer.
Mrs Hill came in then, her usually severe face wreathed in smiles. “It’s good to hear such happiness in Longbourn again!” she exclaimed, before remembering herself and dropping a curtsy. “I do beg your pardon, Mr Darcy. What would you like Cook to prepare you for breakfast?”
“Whatever everyone else is having will be fine,” Darcy said, casting a glance at Mr Gardiner’s plate. “Toast, ham and eggs?”
“Of course, sir. Won’t be but a few minutes.”
Hurrying feet at the door presaged Jane Bennet’s arrival, her eyes bright. “Oh… I thought I heard Mr Bingley arrive…”
“You did.” Darcy found the look of disappointment on Jane’s pretty face quite upsetting; he felt a need to alleviate it immediately. “He was claimed by your cousins and your sisters, who are on an errand to gather holly for decoration before the snow comes down in earnest.”
Jane bestowed a grateful smile on him before turning away and making for the front door, obviously planning to rush outside immediately. A returning Mrs Bennet intercepted her, with cries that she must put on her cloak and bonnet, but that delayed Jane only slightly, and moments later Darcy observed her through the window, running along the path that led to the ramble.
“It warms the heart to see Jane so in love,” Mrs Gardiner remarked. “I do hope that her sentiments are returned in like measure; from Mr Bingley’s precipitate arrival here yesterday, I would hope that they are.”
“Allow me to reassure you that Miss Bennet could not hope for a more devoted suitor than Charles Bingley,” Darcy said. “He recognised her fine qualities from the moment of their first meeting and dedicated himself to winning her heart. He knows how very fortunate he is that Miss Bennet returns his affections.”
Mrs Gardiner beamed at him, as Hill re-entered the room with a large plate of breakfast to set before him. Setting himself at his meal, Darcy was struck by a sudden sense of contentment; how long had it been since he felt such eager anticipation of the day before him? Indeed, he could not recall ever feeling so. At that moment, he could have borne even the sole company of Mrs Bennet and Lydia with perfect equanimity.
The gatherers returned just as Darcy finished his repast, arms laden with holly and ivy. Kitty and Lydia ran off upstairs to gather ribbons and string with which to weave wreaths and garlands and in short order everyone was gathered around the table arguing good-naturedly about the best way to construct holly wreaths.
“Wearing gloves,” Mrs Gardiner dictated as the first plaints of pricked fingers arose.
In short order, Darcy found little Juliet on his lap again, sniffling against his waistcoat as she suckled on a small thumb which had suffered mightily from the holly’s prickles. Or so she claimed.
Darcy found he didn’t mind at all. The child’s small weight on his lap reminded him of Georgiana’s childhood, of the years following his mother’s death when she would toddle around after him demanding that he and Wickham take her along on their adventures. He should have taken her with them more, he thought now with remorse. He had been blaming Georgiana for the distance between them, the fact that he did not know or understand her so well as he should like, but the unpleasant truth was that he had been the one who was always ‘too busy’ to play with her, determined to live up to his father’s expectations and maintain his dignity.
Instead it was Wickham who had fussed over her, with an eye to pleasing Darcy’s father, of course. Was it any wonder Georgiana remembered him with fondness, had fallen for his lies? Had Wickham even had his eye on the dowry Georgiana would have when she grew up, or even her status as second in line to inherit Pemberley if an accident should befall Darcy?
He must speak to Georgiana. Today, if she was feeling well enough. He could not risk her taking it into her head to hare off in search of Wickham again if she should by chance learn of his location; he shuddered to think of how close she had come. If she had managed to find a ride to Meryton with anyone but the Bennets, it
was very possible that Darcy and Fitzwilliam might have arrived too late to prevent her ruination. And that was not taking into account the perils she had exposed herself to on the journey!
Jane took a seat beside Darcy, smiling fondly at Juliet, who promptly abandoned him in favour of Jane’s softer lap. Regretting the loss more than he expected, Darcy nonetheless took the opportunity to ask;
“How is Georgiana today?”
“Much improved, Mr Darcy.” Jane smiled at him. “Indeed, she was begging to be let out of bed, but Lizzy stood firm. If she is able to eat breakfast, and if Doctor Jones approves it when he arrives, perhaps she might sit in a chair by the fire for a little while this afternoon, but I think it much too soon for her to remove downstairs.”
“Of course,” Darcy agreed, relieved that Elizabeth would not cave to Georgiana’s pleading. “I was wondering, though, if she might be well enough to speak to her about the matter which has led to our presence here. What is your opinion?”
“Ah.” Jane petted Juliet’s fair curls, her expression thoughtful as she pondered the matter. “That is likely to be an uncomfortable conversation, is it not?”
“I am afraid so, yet I would have it over and done with sooner rather than later.” Seeing her raise a curious brow at him, Darcy elaborated on his reasoning. “I fear that she might take it into her head to go on another quest in search of her quarry.”
Jane let out a horrified little gasp. “Oh no - Mr Darcy, you cannot allow that. You must speak to her!”
“I intend to. Perhaps, if Doctor Jones pronounces her well enough to sit up this afternoon, Miss Elizabeth will be kind enough to accompany Georgiana while I explain everything.”
“I am sure she will be happy to oblige.” A secretive little smile touched Jane’s lips, but she did not seem inclined to share her thoughts, and Darcy did not feel that he could ask.
Lydia called to him at that moment, requesting that he use his superior inches of height in the service of decoration.
Smiling, Darcy rose to his feet and accepted the ivy strands Lydia held out to him. “At your service, Miss Lydia. Where would you have me put these?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The doctor arrived in the midst of the decorating, and Jane escorted him upstairs. He came back down again shortly, accepting Mrs Bennet’s offer of tea and mince pies with alacrity.
“Miss Darcy is doing much better, Mr Darcy,” Doctor Jones told him, taking a seat at the table. “I have informed her that if she is able to eat some soup and a bread roll for luncheon and still wishes to afterwards, that she may get out of bed and sit in a chair for half an hour this afternoon. Since tomorrow is Christmas Day, I will not attend Longbourn unless I receive word from you that she has taken a turn for the worse again, but if Miss Elizabeth thinks her up to it, I dare say that Miss Darcy might be well enough to take Christmas dinner with the rest of the party, if you can carry her downstairs and back up again after.”
“That is excellent news,” Darcy said with pleasure; though he then began to wonder if he should delay telling Georgiana about Wickham until after Christmas Day. No, best not; he could not ask the Bennets and Gardiners not to talk about the robbery at Haye Park or Miss King and her absconded fiancé. No doubt the events would be the subject of intense discussion in the neighbourhood for quite some time to come.
“Would you ask Miss Elizabeth to send down for me if Georgiana does feel able to sit up for a while?” Darcy asked Jane in a quiet aside a little later.
“Of course.” She gave him a sympathetic smile, and after luncheon came herself to summon him above stairs.
Georgiana was sitting by the fire, well wrapped up in shawls and blankets, a smile on her face as she talked with Elizabeth. Jane gestured Darcy inside and Elizabeth rose to greet him, as Jane departed, closing the door behind her.
“Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth curtsied.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he bowed to her, his eyes drinking her in. Her hair coiled into a simple knot at the nape of her neck, wearing a plain dark blue woollen gown, she was still the loveliest woman he knew. “Thank you for allowing me a visit with my sister.”
“I know how concerned you have been for her welfare,” Elizabeth replied with a smile and a glance at Georgiana, who looked quite displeased. “Please, do sit down.” She gestured to the chair she had vacated, herself withdrawing to the window seat. The small size of the room meant that she was only just behind Darcy when he sat down, though; if he reached back with his hand he could probably touch her knee. Certainly she was still close enough to be part of the conversation, about which Darcy was quite pleased.
“How are you feeling, Georgiana?” he asked his sister gently.
“Quite well, thank you,” Georgiana replied, but her tone was frosty and her lips pinched together.
“I have something I wish you to see. I should probably have shown it to you in August, but,” Darcy shrugged awkwardly. “I wanted to protect you.” Reaching into his waistcoat, he withdrew a letter and offered it.
Georgiana blinked, reached for the letter instinctively. “What is this, Will?”
“I received it about a week after bringing you back to London from Ramsgate,” Darcy said, watching Georgiana’s reaction as she unfolded the letter. A small gasp escaped her lips as she recognised the handwriting, and she looked back at him with wide blue eyes. “Yes, Mr Wickham wrote to me.”
“He implored you again for my hand?”
“I think you should read the letter, Georgie,” Darcy said gently. “When you have finished it, if you have any questions, I will gladly answer them then.”
He watched his sister read the short letter, his heart breaking for her as she read Wickham’s cruel words.
I daresay another five thousand pounds might be enough to buy my silence about your sister’s scandalous behaviour. If word of her wanton character gets out, even her dowry might not suffice to find her a respectable husband. I might be persuaded, homely though she is, if you ever find you need her to produce an heir for Pemberley, though.
A sob broke the silence and Georgiana’s fingers opened, letting the letter fall to the floor. Darcy was out of his chair in a trice, kneeling beside her and drawing her into his arms to weep piteously on his shoulder.
“I’m so sorry, dear heart. I’m so sorry.” Looking up at Elizabeth, he found her gazing back at him, an expression of utmost sympathy on her face.
After Georgiana had sobbed for a few minutes, Elizabeth rose gracefully from the window seat and came over to crouch beside Darcy, offering a lace-edged handkerchief to Georgiana.
“Dry your eyes, Georgie,” she said in a voice which was kindly but nevertheless firm. “You have learned a dreadful lesson, but an important one.”
Elizabeth’s tone made Georgiana draw back and look at her. “What do you mean?” she hiccoughed through the tears still streaming down her cheeks. Darcy fished his own handkerchief from his pocket to blot them away, his heart breaking for his little sister’s sorrow.
“You are Miss Darcy of Pemberley; in the next few years any number of men will seek to win your hand by means fair or foul. You may thank Mr Wickham for one thing only; for opening your eyes to the sad truth that a handsome face may conceal a despicable character.”
Sniffling, Georgiana took Darcy’s handkerchief from his hand and blew her nose with a loud honk. “You knew before Ramsgate that he wasn’t a good person,” she said to Darcy. It was not a question; obviously she had begun to think on his reactions and drawn a logical conclusion.
“I did. My eyes were opened to his character when we were at school together; our time at Cambridge only offered him the opportunity to sink deeper into depravity. Father would not hear it when I tried to tell him, though in his will he at least stipulated that George might accept the value of the living at Kympton if the Church should not prove to his liking.”
“I wondered why you gave the living to Mr Briers when it became vacant,” Georgiana said. “You paid Mr Wickham off, then?”
“A goodly amount more than the living was worth, in truth. I hoped for him to never darken our door again. Ramsgate was my worst nightmare come to life.” Darcy’s face darkened at the memory. “If I could have laid hands on Wickham, I would have wrung his neck. He caught wind of my arrival and fled the town, though he had the gall to send this letter to me afterwards.”
“No wonder you looked so strangely at him when you met him again here in Meryton,” Elizabeth said as they watched the cheap paper shrivel and burn away to ash.
“I was considering if I could get away with murdering him, at least for a brief moment,” Darcy confessed. “Georgiana’s reputation depended on my silence, however.”
“How difficult that must have been for you!” Elizabeth entirely sympathised with his predicament.
“All the more so when he won you for his partisan,” Darcy said unguardedly.
They stared at each other for a long moment, until another loud honk as Georgiana blew her nose again snapped their attention back to her.
“And still you can’t do anything, because of me and my stupidity,” Georgiana said miserably.
“Dear heart, you were not stupid! Naive, yes, but that is my fault. I thought you were mature enough to have your own household but did not prepare you by telling the truth. It is I who was stupid, never you!”
“Your reputation is no longer at risk, besides,” Elizabeth said, and when the siblings looked at her curiously, she smiled. “Mr Wickham is now an army deserter, a jilt and a thief, and it is being whispered among the servants that he departed Meryton leaving a string of gambling debts to his fellow officers and open accounts with the town’s shopkeepers. He is disgraced, and nobody will believe a word out of his lying mouth.”
A Christmas Miracle At Longbourn (The Darcy And Lizzy Miracles Book 1) Page 15
