The Darcys' First Christmas
Page 1
by
Maria Grace
Published by: White Soup Press
The Darcy’s First Christmas
Copyright © December 2015 Maria Grace
All rights reserved including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof,
in any format whatsoever.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
For information address
author.MariaGrace@gmail.com
ISBN-10: 0692590463
ISBN-13: 978-0692590461 (White Soup Press)
Author’s Website: http://RandomBitsofFascination.com
Email address: Author.MariaGrace@gmail.com
“Grace has quickly become one of my favorite authors of Austen-inspired fiction. Her love of Austen’s characters and the Regency era shine through in all of her novels.” Diary of an Eccentric
The Darcys' First Christmas
Elizabeth anxiously anticipates her new duties as mistress of Pemberley. Darcy is confident of her success, but she cannot bring herself to share his optimism.
Unexpected guests unsettle all her plans and offer her the perfect Christmastide gift, shattered confidence.
Can she and Darcy overcome their misunderstandings and salvage their first Christmastide together?
Don’t miss this free story from Maria Grace.
RandomBitsofFascination.com
Subscribe to my email list and receive a free copy of Sweet Ginger
DEDICATION
For my husband and sons.
You have always believed in me.
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Regency Christmas Traditions
Thank you!
Other books by Maria Grace:
Free e-books
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Happy for all her maternal feelings was the day on which Mrs. Bennet got rid of her two most deserving daughters. The first Saturday in November, 1812, marked the day she ceased fearing the hedgerows and began talking of her daughters, Mrs. Bingley and Mrs. Darcy.
Elizabeth and Darcy spent the initial week of their marriage at his London townhouse and then set off for Pemberley, determined to spend their first Christmastide in the place he best loved.
Three days traveling gave Elizabeth plenty of time to nurse her anxiety over her new duties as mistress of Pemberley. Though Darcy insisted Mrs. Reynolds would ensure the transition was an easy one, Elizabeth struggled to share his sanguine outlook.
Two days after they arrived, Elizabeth embarked upon her first day as mistress to the great estate. Meeting with the housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds, was her first order of business.
She checked her hair in the looking glass and straightened her dress for the third time. There was no reason for disquiet, none at all. It was not as if she were preparing to make her curtsey for the King.
In many ways, though, that would be far less demanding. At court, she need only curtsey and remember all the steps and lines for her performance. Nothing more. But here …
She smoothed the hairs on the back of her neck. Darcy assured her she had nothing to fear from Mrs. Reynolds.
Little did he understand the complex and dynamic relationship between the mistress of the house and her housekeeper. No doubt Mrs. Reynolds was well aware she had not been raised to manage an estate the size of Pemberley. Mama had taught her well, to be sure. Yet, Longbourn was naught to the vast manor and thriving village that now looked to her to oversee, provide, nurture, educate …
How could she ever undertake such a task? Why did Darcy ever think her up to the challenge? He believed in her, insisted she was capable of anything she set her mind to, a bit like Papa. But perhaps, this once, his confidence was misplaced.
The clock chimed. Like it or not, it was time. Mrs. Reynolds would be waiting, and she was nothing if not punctual.
Elizabeth wove her way to the back of the manor. At least she no longer required directions to move from one room to another. The accomplishment felt far more impressive than it actually was. After all, even the lowest scullery maid managed the same undertaking with little effort.
What a grand achievement with which to begin her career as Mrs. Darcy!
The housekeeper’s office, tucked at the rear of the house, near the kitchen, resembled Mrs. Reynolds herself, tiny, tidy and treasured. Along one wall, shelves held stacks of neatly folded linens, on another, rows and rows of sparkling china and crystal. A perfectly clean window kept sharp winter breezes at bay while a small fire warmed the room to cheeriness. A little plate of Elizabeth’s favorite biscuits invited her to the table where Mrs. Reynolds presided over a large pile of books.
How had Mrs. Reynolds known those were her girlhood favorites?
Several sheets of paper lay spread on the desk before her. Mrs. Reynolds squinted through her spectacles and hummed a tune under her breath, checking items off a list.
“Mrs. Darcy.” Mrs. Reynolds rose and curtsied.
“Good morning, Mrs. Reynolds.” The greeting sounded far more confident than she felt, not at all a difficult feat.
Mama insisted the better part of confidence was in one’s voice. If one sounded confident, they were half way to being believed competent.
That might work for most people. Somehow, it did not seem Mrs. Reynolds would be so easily persuaded.
Elizabeth sat across from Mrs. Reynolds. A cool sunbeam shone over her shoulder and on the intimidating pile of journals and ledgers.
“Where do you recommend we begin?”
“Where do you prefer?” Mrs. Reynolds opened several books and laid them out along the length of the table, tapping each one in turn. “Menus are needed for the coming weeks. Laundry is planned for next week—you might wish to review our ways to confirm they meet your satisfaction. Perhaps you would care to go over the newly revised inventory of the larder? Meats just came from the smoke house and there are hams curing yet. The maids are preparing to change out the curtains for the winter. Would you care to inspect their efforts?”
Gracious heavens! So many books and lists.
Elizabeth rubbed her temples. “I have no idea.”
Mrs. Reynolds pressed her lips and nodded. “It is a great deal to manage, is it not? Lady Anne—the late Mrs. Darcy—found it quite daunting at times, especially during the visiting months when company would fill every guest room. Oh, she loved the house parties, but between you and me, Missus, the work would overwhelm her sometimes.”
“Indeed?”
“Absolutely. I kept a ready supply of willow bark for her headaches and mint for her digestion. She considered her brother, now Earl Matlock and sister, Lady Catherine, particularly … challenging guests.”
“Mr. Darcy has never mentioned it.”
“His late mother never showed a sign of distress to her family or her visitors. She faced the trials with every imaginable grace, but make no mistake, it weren’t easy for her”
“Oh.”
Not the most original of responses, to be sure. But when one received intelligence that changed everything she believed about the world, more creative replies were out of the question.
“You never saw a more attentive mistress than her. She was well loved, indeed. Except by those who tried to take advantage of her. They found her rather disagreeable, I would think. She did not suffer fools
or cheats lightly.” She cocked her head and lifted an eyebrow. “I don’t expect you would either.”
Elizabeth chuckled. “I suppose you are right.”
“Pemberley has run for a long time now without the hand of a mistress. Pemberley, she needs one. I done the best I could, but it ain’t the same.”
“No one criticizes your service, at least not to me.”
“Of course not, I would box their ears if I heard of it!” Mrs. Reynolds threw her head back and laughed.
How delightful that the servants here laughed. A house needed laughter to truly be a home.
“Still, it is good for a mistress to preside over the household again. The master, he knows the land and the tenants, but the house—that has always been a mystery to him.”
“I fear it may be a bit of a mystery to me as well.”
Mama would scold her for revealing so much uncertainty to her staff, even though she regularly confided in Hill. But then, Mama had Hill’s respect. Would she ever have Mrs. Reynolds’?
“A clever girl like you will have it sorted out in no time at all. I have no doubts.” She caught Elizabeth’s gaze, though it was entirely improper for her to be so bold.
The dear woman believed every word she said.
“I know the master well enough. He could not tolerate a stupid woman. Only a very clever one would make him as happy as he is now. You have nothing to worry about, Mrs. Darcy. It will come to you. All you need is a little time.”
Elizabeth swallowed hard. The approval of a servant, even a senior, trusted one like Mrs. Reynolds, should not be so meaningful.
But it was.
“I have just the place to start.” Mrs. Reynolds ambled around the desk to a plain cabinet under the window. “Here it is!”
She returned with a worn, red journal and handed it to Elizabeth.
Elegant, flourished handwriting greeted her as she opened it. “Whose?”
“Lady Anne’s common place book. She would have wanted you to have it.”
Elizabeth stroked the fine lettering. Darcy’s mother had written this. She flipped through the pages. Receipts, garden plans, directions for her favorite wash balls …
“Oh!”
Mrs. Reynolds leaned over her shoulder. “She made lovely sketches, did she not? Quite a number of them are framed in the house. I will point them out to you when you wish. That one,” she tapped the page, “that is the master when he was just five years old. Such a serious boy he was, but so kind hearted, even then. See here, she says it herself.”
Fitzwilliam is the dearest of souls. He picked flowers for me this morning. I did not have the heart to tell him he pillaged my kitchen garden. Cook will be happy to know she will have far fewer courgettes to deal with this year. She considers them a most disagreeable vegetable.
Elizabeth giggled. A young Darcy’s earnest eyes peered out from the page over a ragged bouquet in his hands.
He had not changed very much.
“It is good to hear you laugh, Missus.” Mrs. Reynolds smiled a maternal smile. “Take that, and get acquainted with Pemberley through her eyes. Tomorrow is soon enough for the menus.”
“Thank you, I will.” Elizabeth gathered the book and pressed it to her chest.
How many times had she wished she could have known Darcy’s mother, and through her, know him just a little better. Perhaps now, she could.
“I will be in my dressing room.”
“Shall I send a tea tray up for you and … Lady Anne?”
“That would be lovely … and perhaps send this plate of biscuits as well?” Elizabeth picked up a biscuit and nibbled it.
“Those were her favorite, you know.” Mrs. Reynolds trundled out.
Elizabeth made her way to her dressing room. How pleasant it would be to spend the rest of the morning taking tea with such a welcome guest. Perhaps, with the guidance of Pemberley’s former mistress, she would be able do the role justice after all.
Several days later, after meeting with Mrs. Reynolds, Elizabeth made her way to the morning room. Menus were slowly coming together, as were plans for their Christmastide house party. The Gardiners and their children planned to arrive a week before Christmas. They would be easy guests to entertain, ready to be pleased with everything they saw. The perfect company for her inaugural holiday season.
Moreover, Aunt Gardiner’s keen sense of style and propriety would identify anything still wanting in her hospitality. Her gentle spirit would deliver her pronouncements with far greater kindness than anyone else. Elizabeth anticipated her appraisals as much as her society.
The remainder of the day would be spent riding the estate with Darcy, calling on tenants and familiarizing herself with their families and needs. Longbourn’s tenants were so few, they could be visited in a single day. Not so Pemberley’s.
Papa had always praised her excellent memory. She would definitely need it today. That and the little notebook tucked in her basket. With Mrs. Reynolds’ assistance, she had already established a page for each farm and family on the estate.
Darcy waited in the morning room, hidden behind his newspaper.
He rose as she entered. “Good morning, Mrs. Darcy.”
She curtsied.
No it was not necessary, but it was a delightful ritual they had played each morning since their wedding. A tiny bit of formality just for the sake of honoring one another.
“Good morning, Mr. Darcy.”
He held a chair for her, and she sat beside him.
“Mrs. Reynolds just sent in the chocolate pot. I knew you would soon follow.”
He took the molinet between his palms, spun it briskly, and poured her a frothy cup of chocolate.
“Is it to your liking, madam?”
She sipped it. “Exactly, sir.”
Mama never fancied indulging in chocolate, but it was Elizabeth’s favorite luxury.
“The wind turned quite brisk last night. I thought to take the curricle with the hood today, unless you would prefer the coach.”
How many choices daily life now entailed!
“I have rarely ridden in a curricle. I should like that.”
“In the spring, I wish to teach you to drive. There is a low phaeton in the barn that has seen little use since my mother’s passing. You might like it for traversing the estate.”
“I am so accustomed to walking. It is still difficult to fathom a property I cannot cross comfortably on foot.”
“It is quite possible we will require three days full to complete all the visits, even if we keep them to the customary quarter hour each.”
“Surely you jest.”
“My dear, you know I have not that capacity.” His eyebrows rose.
That was not entirely true; he could be very amusing at times. But he had little ability for intentional jocularity.
“I had not realized the scope of our task.” She clasped her hands and tightly laced her fingers.
He cradled her hands between his. “My dear, the tenants will be as delighted with you as Mrs. Reynolds and the rest of the staff. I have not encountered so many humming maids or smiling footmen in years. Mrs. Reynolds seems years younger. I have every confidence in you.”
“Did I not tell you the same thing every time before we went out in London? I do not recall it affecting a great alteration in your spirits when I did.”
He kissed her forehead. “You have no idea what difference it has made to me. No, I will never like being in company, but having you by my side changes everything.”
“Now you are going to make me feel guilty … or misty-eyed” She dabbed at the corner of her eye with the back of her hand.
“Neither of those is my intention.” He pushed his chair back. “Shall I have the curricle brought around?”
“Yes do, before my nerves resemble my mother’s.”
“Heaven forfend! Do not threaten me so!” He chuckled and left.
She drank down the last of the chocolate and hurried upstairs for her wraps and trusty notebook.<
br />
Elizabeth tucked a lap rug around herself against the morning’s chill. Even with the calash in place, the curricle was far less warm than the coach. Darcy flipped the reins and the horses eased the curricle forward with fluid grace.
Papa was an indifferent horseman, at best. Not so her husband. He enjoyed an uncanny rapport with the beasts, one she had never witnessed before. Somehow he made driving look effortless. Perhaps he would succeed in teaching her what Papa could not.
“I thought to begin at the home farm. Mr. Steadman has managed it for many years. His wife is a steady woman, mother to three sons and a daughter. She is well acquainted with the estate and those on it.”
“I imagine you could also recite the names of all their children and lineage of the all the farm’s horses. Yet in London, you could not recall the names of half the guests at Bingley’s party, despite having encountered them regularly in society.”
“I remember what is significant.”
She patted his shoulder and the lines around his eyes softened.
It would take him some time to become accustomed to being teased. But he was improving.
“Mrs. Steadman has run Pemberley’s dame school for nearly ten years. She has seen to it that every child on the estate learns to read and write.”
“I think I like her already.”
“Mrs. Reynolds esteems her. In fact, it was she who facilitated the introduction resulting in the Steadman’s marriage.”
“Is Mrs. Reynolds in the habit of matchmaking?”
Darcy coughed. “Hardly. I know you do not know her well yet, but truly, can you see her spending her idle moments matching unsuspecting couples?”
“I do not imagine she has idle time in the first place. I am not entirely convinced that the dear woman ever sleeps.”
“You are not the first to wonder.” He pointed into the grey landscape. “There, you can see the farmhouse just beyond the rise. That is Thistledown.”
An impressive farmhouse stood in the middle of a neat yard with a large garden plot just off what was probably the kitchen side.