Darcy and Elizabeth

by Maria Grace

  Did Georgiana know of that tradition at Pemberley? She was of age that she should. Some girls her age were already running their own households. She should learn Pemberley’s ways, to carry on at Pemberley and to take to the home she would manage someday, just as Pemberley’s future mistress would bring her own traditions with her. What might those new traditions be?

  Miss Elizabeth’s face flashed in his mind. He closed his eyes and shook his head.

  Best not let his mind wander—a letter to Georgiana was in order.

  December 25, 1811 Christmas morning. Meryton

  Christmas morning dawned cool and clear. The Gardiner children dashed down the stairs, the rest of the family close behind. Mama ushered them all into the crowded morning room festooned with evergreen boughs and holly. Small bundles wrapped in paper or pretty fabric lay at every place around the overflowing table.

  “Jane, take your cousins to their seats. Kitty, help her. Sister, your place is there by the window, and brother opposite her.” Mama pointed each to their seat.

  She had not looked so happy since the whole affair with Mr. Collins began. Nothing made her so cheerful as to play generous hostess to family and friends.

  Papa shuffled in and sat in his customary place. Good thing Mama had not tried to move him. “I believe we are all assembled as you requested, Mrs. Bennet.”

  “Indeed we are.” Mama waved toward the door, and Hill and the maid entered bearing trays with tea, coffee and two pots of chocolate.

  “Oh, oh, chocolate!” Aunt Gardiner’s oldest daughter squealed. “May we all have some?”

  “Indeed you may, all of you children, if you wish.” Mama looked very pleased with herself.

  Aunt Gardiner nodded at her children. They clapped and bounced in their chairs.

  “Hill, you may serve the chocolate. Go on now, open your gifts.” Mama waved at the children.

  This was always Elizabeth’s favorite part of the Gardiners’ Christmas visit. Watching the children’s faces as they unwrapped their treasures never grew tiresome. What could match a little boy’s eyes lighting up over a box of tin soldiers or his sister’s squeals of delight at miniature furniture for her baby house? Though Elizabeth appreciated the delicate lace fichu Mama selected for her, it was still nothing to the pleasure of seeing the children.

  The children were disappointed to have to put their treasures away when it was time for the family to walk to the church. But Jane, with a little help from Kitty and Lydia, soon had them returned to their general good cheer.

  After service, Papa and Uncle Gardiner took the children with them to the baker to pick up the Christmas goose. Mama led the ladies home, assigning tasks as they went. With the officers joining them for Christmas dinner, there was ever so much to be done to prepare. It did not seem to ease Mama’s mind that the dining room and drawing room had been thoroughly readied for the event the day before.

  Indeed, it was good that it had been done, since Papa did not see fit to hire more servants, they still had to inspect the plate and make sure it was thoroughly polished and that the table was properly set, the maid was, after all, often lax in her duties. And the greenery! The children had helped the day before, arranging it throughout the house, but, bless the little ones, they did not know how to place it properly and it all must be rearranged before guests arrived.

  Aunt Gardiner glanced at Lizzy. She was such a patient woman, choosing not to take umbrage at Mama’s nervous flutterings. Instead she offered to manage the placement of the holiday greenery herself so that Mama could attend to matters of the kitchen.

  December 25, 1811 Christmas Evening. London

  Darcy stepped down from his carriage and stared at Bingley’s front door. He tugged his shirt cuffs from beneath his jacket and straightened his cravat. The butler opened the imposing door.

  Doffing his hat and great coat, he paused in the candlelit vestibule. Evergreen and holly boughs, tied with red ribbon, draped the sides of the doors, scenting the air with green—was green even a scent? It seemed as though it should be. Muffled conversation floated down from the drawing room. Fragrances wafted from the kitchen, boar’s head and was it ... yes, mince pie.

  At Pemberley, mince pie was never served until after the Christmas feast. So much food was prepared for family and guests, tenants and servants, the cooling tables bowed with abundance. No less than three were erected in the morning room to manage the overflow from the kitchen. After the feast, baskets were sent around to tenants and the parish poor, and still there was more left over.

  Mrs. Reynolds and Cook would gather all that remained. Every free hand in the house would be marshalled to chop and mix filling and pastry crust for piles and piles of mince pies. For at least a fortnight afterwards, no one came within a quarter mile of Pemberley without having a mince pie pushed into their hands.

  His mouth watered, and he licked his lips.

  “Mr. Darcy!” Miss Bingley called from halfway up the marble stairs. She wore a pink-purple gown, some color that was supposed to be very fashionable and expensive and probably was, considering the many yards of silk and froth that draped her tall form. Her ostrich feather, dyed to match, bobbed in time with her steps. “I am so glad you have joined us.”

  “Thank you for your gracious invitation.” He bowed.

  For all her faults, Miss Bingley was an excellent hostess. She had, after all, managed a remarkable feat, pulling together the Netherfield ball in but a fortnight. In all likelihood, she had been planning this event the entire month they had been in London.

  “Will you join us in the drawing room? We are waiting on just a few more guests to join us before we dine.” She led him upstairs.

  The dull roar of many people grew loud enough to be felt as much as heard. Evergreen and holly bedecked the stair rail and wax candles brightened every corner of the hall with fragrance and flickering light. The drawing room, aided by many mirrors, seemed even brighter. Vases, filled with tasteful arrangements of laurel and Christmas roses, pulled the eye around the room to admire the fine furnishings and accessories acquired on Bingley’s grand tour.

  His taste ran slightly to the side of garish; Miss Bingley influenced him toward that. But he could also use a pointer or three in the art of restraint.

  “May I introduce you to our other guests?” She gestured around the drawing room.

  Darcy glanced about the crowded room. People, some familiar, many not, filled every available space. A group clustered around the fainting sofa, hiding its outlandish floral print—that was a blessing. Others gathered in the far more tolerable grouping of ladder-back chairs near the pianoforte. He clenched his fists so as not to tug at his collar. How did one not suffocate in the presence of so many?

  Thank Providence! None of those horrid contributors to the society columns were lurking in the crowd. What more could he honestly ask of an evening?

  Still, he hesitated. Acquaintances were a tricky thing. He would be expected to remember and acknowledge these new connections when next they met, something he was ill-equipped to do. Names and faces blurred and fogged in his mind, forever leading him into awkward social blunders.

  But what greater offense would he cause by refusing her simple request?

  “Darcy!” Bingley appeared out of the throng. “Simply capital to see you tonight. Come, I must have you meet Sir Andrew and Miss Aldercott. He is the most delightful fellow.” He beckoned Darcy to follow him to the opposite side of the room, describing the pair in question as they went.

  Sir Andrew had a penchant for fine horses, but was troubled by gout in his left leg, so he rarely rode any more. Horse racing had become his passion, but he tended to bet too much.

  Miss Aldercott was his daughter and possessed a substantial fortune. She was usually found in the company of her two pugs, who, it was said, looked rather like her brother and sister—she was the beauty of the family. She was an excellent horsewoman, but preferred to drive than ride. Her little phaeton had recently been repainted, and she
was hoping to learn to drive her father’s curricle soon. By the time they actually found Sir Andrew and Miss Aldercott, it was as if he had the pleasure of their acquaintance for years.

  That was the difference when Bingley introduced someone new. His endless ramble offered enough to remember those new acquaintances tolerably well and have some idea upon what to conduct a conversation. Did Bingley know he was so useful or was it merely a happy coincidence?

  If the latter, Bingley enjoyed more good luck in a fortnight than any man was entitled to in a lifetime. If the former, he was a good deal more clever than any gave him credit for. In either case, he was a very good friend.

  Sir Andrew and Miss Aldercott proved interesting acquaintances indeed. Father and daughter both had distinct opinions on the likelihood of purchasing a matched team of four and the proper price to pay for such. Darcy agreed more with the father than the daughter. Even so it was a memorable conversation to have had with a young woman. Almost as memorable as some of the conversations he had enjoyed at Netherfield, with Miss Elizabeth.

  Miss Bingley pushed her way through the milling guests and whispered something in Bingley’s ear.

  “Capital!” He cleared his throat and raised his voice “I have just been informed, dinner is served.”

  “Ladies,” Miss Bingley led them to the doorway.

  The ladies sorted themselves by rank and proceeded to the dining room in what unfortunately resembled a parade of bobbing peahens.

  Was it Bingley’s influence that dissuaded Miss Bingley from insisting upon the modern convention of having the gentlemen escort the ladies in? Or did she just prefer more traditional sensibilities? Whichever it was, he was grateful to avoid another potentially awkward situation.

  Bingley elbowed him on the way into the dining room. “You ought to know Caroline expects you to sit beside her at dinner.”

  “Have you no knight or baronet or grey-haired gentleman to take that place? Sir Andrew should surely have that honor.”

  “Sir Andrew is looking for a wife and would prefer to sit beside the widow Garnet.” Bingley chuckled and faded off to address another guest.

  Meryton

  Later that night, Elizabeth paced the very clean drawing room, waiting for their guests to arrive. Every surface was dusted and polished to reflect the light from an extra measure of candles. Fresh evergreen and holly filled the room with the season’s fragrances, tied with cheery red bows. It should have been a very pleasing scene, but the tension in the room threatened to smother her.

  “Why do you not take a seat, Lizzy?” Aunt Gardiner patted the seat beside her.

  “I should surely run mad if I do.” Elizabeth offered an apologetic smile.

  “It seems like they are so long in arriving tonight. I cannot wait for the officers to get here.” Lydia peered out the window, wrapping the gold wool curtain around her shoulders and tangling the fringe in her fingers.

  “They are such agreeable company, so gallant and always in search of a spot of fun.” Kitty fidgeted in her seat.

  “Do sit still. It is unbecoming to twitch about like a hound waiting to be fed.” Mary folded her hands in her lap and adjusted her posture to something entirely stiff and proper. “And unwind yourself from the curtains before you tear them off the wall entirely.”

  “You need not be so disagreeable. It is not as if you are anticipating the arrival of anyone special.” Lydia sniffed and made an ugly face.

  “Lydia!” Aunt Gardiner slapped the sofa cushion.

  “Well, it is true. None of the officers like her for she is so very dull.”

  Mary’s cheeks colored. Her lips pressed tight into something not quite a frown, but certainly nothing less.

  “Your opinions are not helpful, nor are they kind.”

  “But they are true,” Lydia whispered.

  “Lydia!” Jane’s eyes bulged the way they usually did when someone said something distasteful.

  Lydia snorted and tossed her head.

  The front door creaked and voices drifted upstairs.

  “Oh, oh, someone is here! I think I recognize Sanderson’s voice.” Kitty clapped softly.

  Lydia and Kitty pinched their cheeks and checked their bodices. Mary moved to the pianoforte.

  “Would you favor us with a light welcoming piece?” Aunt Gardiner asked, but it was more a direction than a question.

  At least Mary did not seem too disgruntled by it. If anything, she looked pleased to have her accomplishments recognized. Perhaps she would have some pleasure this evening after all.

  Mama swept in with several officers in her wake.

  “Sister, may I introduce Lieutenants Wickham, Denny and Sanderson.”

  Aunt Gardiner rose and curtsied. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, I am sure.”

  “Thank you for admitting us to your acquaintance, madam.” Wickham bowed, his eyes shining.

  He always seemed to know the right thing to say.

  Lydia and Kitty drew Denny and Sanderson away as Hill ushered Aunt and Uncle Philips in. Jane excused herself to attend them.

  Aunt Gardiner cocked her head and lifted her eyebrow at Elizabeth. “My niece tells me you are from Derbyshire, sir.”

  “Indeed, I am madam. Are you familiar with the county?” He stepped a little closer.

  “I spent my girlhood there, in the area of Lambton.”

  Wickham’s eyes brightened, and his face softened with a smile so compelling even a French officer would have been drawn in. “I lived on an estate very near there, Pemberley if you know it.”

  “I do indeed. One of the loveliest places I have ever seen. We were by no means in such a way to keep company with that family, but we heard much of their good name whilst we lived there.” Aunt Gardiner’s eyes always shone when she spoke of her girlhood home.

  “I was privileged to live on the Pemberley estate, my father was steward there.”

  “Then you were well-favored indeed. Have you been there recently?”

  “Very little since the death of old Mr. Darcy. While old Darcy was a very good and kind man, and very well disposed toward myself, I am afraid his son did not inherit his father’s noble traits.” He glanced at Elizabeth, such suffering in his eyes, her own misted.

  She nodded for him to continue. Surely Aunt Gardiner must be interested to hear his account in all its fullness.

  “I have no desire to burden you with such tales as would dampen your spirits on this very fine occasion. Let us talk of acquaintances we may share in common. Did you know the old apothecary there, Mr. Burris I believe his name.”

  “He was a great favorite of my father.”

  “Of mine as well.” Though Wickham had been there little in the past five years, it was yet in his power to give her fresher intelligence of her former friends than she had been in the way of procuring.

  It did not take too long for their recollection of shared society to turn to a discussion of old Mr. Darcy’s character, whom both liberally praised. The conversation then naturally moved on to the current Mr. Darcy and his treatment of Wickham.

  “I grant you, that I recall the younger Mr. Darcy spoken of as a very proud, ill-natured boy, but the charges you lay at his feet are quite alarming. I am surprised you have not been able to bring some kind of influence to bear against him.” Something in Aunt’s expression suggested she was weighing his words carefully, the way she did when her sons brought her an intriguing tale.

  “Would that were possible, madam, I would probably be the better for it. In truth, though, I still hold his father in far too high a regard to be able to take action against his son. The thought of bringing old Mr. Darcy pain is far too disturbing to brook.”

  “But surely you must consider how his own son’s behavior would distress him. He might have been very pleased to see its improvement. I know that to be the case if it were one of my own children charged with such heartlessness.” Aunt chewed her lower lip.

  “You might be very right, but surely you can see I am not the
one suited by station or inclination to bring correction to such a man. So, I shall continue on as I have been, grateful to such friends as I still have around me. I am truly blessed to have some very staunch supporters.”

  “I imagine so.” Aunt’s eyebrows raised into an elegant arch. “You demonstrate very great forbearance, quite the model of gentlemanly behavior.”

  There was something the faintest bit sharp in Aunt’s tone. Elizabeth tried to catch her eye, but she looked over Elizabeth’s shoulder.

  Elizabeth glanced back. Jane and Aunt Philips approached.

  “How are your enjoying your visit, sister? Is not the company tonight delightful?” Aunt Philips extended her hands toward Aunt Gardiner, but glowered at Elizabeth.

  Aunt Gardiner took Aunt Philips’s hands and kissed her cheeks. “Indeed it is. But we always appreciate the hospitality at Longbourn. I should hardly expect anything else.”

  “Mr. Wickham, it is especially nice to see you and the other officers here tonight. We have missed your company of late.”

  “I regret any discomfiture I might have caused, but I am honored my absence might have been noticed.” Wickham bowed from his shoulders.

  “Of course, it was, of course it was. I am very pleased to see you, Miss Lizzy, are not above keeping such very plain company with us tonight.” Aunt Phillips’s lip curled just the way Mama’s did when she was angry.

  Elizabeth had been seeing a great deal of that expression lately.

  “Whatever do you mean?” Aunt Gardiner’s honeyed tone had been known to placate tired children and churlish adults alike. “Elizabeth is always a sparkling companion.”

  “In company she deigns to keep, of course she is. It is just possible her opinion of herself has grown a mite higher than it should.” Aunt Phillips’s eyes narrowed far too much like Mama’s.

  Elizabeth’s face grew cold, but her cheeks burned.