The Darcys' First Christmas

by Maria Grace

  The kitchen was usually such a friendly homey place, not one where people ran from her.

  “Do you wish to go over household matters now?” Mrs. Reynolds placed a teacup and a slice of toast before her.

  “An excellent notion. Perhaps beforehand, though, do you know if Mrs. Annesley has any books on etiquette and entertaining, housekeeping manuals of any kind? Something perhaps not too old—”

  “Ones reflecting recent fashions?”

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “Indeed she does. She relies on them to instruct Miss Darcy. I expect you would like to review what she is being taught?”

  Bless her discretion!

  “Yes, yes, precisely.”

  “I will see those books sent to you directly.”

  “Have them brought to your office rather than to my chambers.”

  Her eyebrows rose, questions dancing in her eyes. “As you wish, madam.” She hurried away.

  Mrs. Reynolds never went anywhere slowly. She was always bustling about this way and that, much like Hill back at home.

  Home.

  She swallowed hard, but the lump in her throat did not subside. Why now to be so sentimental? Though she had been attached to Longbourn, leaving it had not been so very difficult.

  Not as difficult as the look on Darcy’s face last night.

  She covered her eyes with her hand and squeezed her temples.

  “Headache, madam?”

  When had Mrs. Reynolds returned?

  “Just a bit.”

  “May I fix you the tea I used to make for Lady Anne?”

  Elizabeth nodded and several minutes later a fresh cup appeared before her.

  Oh, but it was bitter.

  She added sugar, then a little more. Surely it contained willow bark to be so pungent. The sweetening helped, and she drank it down.

  “Perhaps now we might look over the needs of the house.”

  Mrs. Reynolds already had the housekeeping ledgers stacked nearby. “Concerning the menus …”

  Her stomach wrenched. “Yes, as to those.”

  “We have made the changes requested by the master, but some of his requests we cannot accommodate. Green goose, mackerel and peaches are out of season and simply cannot be obtained.”

  “We must do the best we are able. Substitute what you must. There is no other thing for it. I will explain to him the limitations of season. Has it been his habit to place such requests?”

  “No, madam. More commonly, when the Earl and his family arrive, his man brings their requests direct to us. We accommodate those demands as best we can.”

  Demands, an interesting choice of words.

  Did Darcy think she would deny the requests of Pemberley’s guests?

  “If I may be so bold, madam, I believe they make the master uncomfortable when they visit.”

  “They make me uncomfortable.” Elizabeth bit her lip.

  She probably should not have said that.

  Hill had been like part of the family—she was in fact a distant Bennet cousin, widowed young and established at Longbourn as no other relation had a place for her. Mama had never been as discreet with her as she should have been.

  One more lesson Elizabeth needed to learn.

  “Do you wish to pay calls on the estate today?”

  Brilliant woman!

  Did she realize how useful she was being or was she just stumbling upon the right things to say?

  No, this was not by chance at all. She understood. Bless her.

  “Yes. Just because we have company, it does not mean I should neglect my duties. Are you aware of visits which must be made?”

  Mrs. Reynolds reached into her apron pocket. “I have a few notes …”

  Indeed she did. One cottager’s mother was in the final throes of consumption and would not likely see Christmas this year.

  Elizabeth would visit them first. Aunt Gardiner said there was nothing like calling upon those with real tragedy to put your own little complaints in perspective.

  Chapter 4

  Once begun, her new routine continued, largely on its own momentum. She rose early, studied the books in Mrs. Reynolds office, met with her concerning the household, and left for her morning business.

  Elizabeth would briefly greet her guests in the afternoon before departing to dress for dinner. Behind her closed and locked door, she would prepare for the horrid affair.

  At dinner, she would endure Lady Matlock’s comments and observations. On particularly good evenings, Fitzwilliam would regale them with stories from his deployments on the continent. In all likelihood, he carefully chose tales to be pleasing to the ladies. The shadows in his eyes suggested many more that he did not tell.

  Georgiana remained hidden in her rooms, avoiding her aunt and her responsibilities.

  Perhaps Lady Matlock had been correct after all in calling Georgiana petulant.

  Agreeing with Lady Matlock? What was she thinking?

  She rubbed her eyes with thumb and forefinger. Truly, Georgiana’s behavior was too much, but if Elizabeth dared interfere, no doubt Darcy would see fit to overrule her again. Her heart could not withstand another such blow, so she kept her peace.

  Darcy seemed sanguine enough about Georgiana’s behavior. He said little regarding the menus once she explained the issues of availability. He and Fitzwilliam rode the estate during the day, and insisted the gentlemen and ladies adjourn to the drawing room together after dinner.

  There, she would play and sing for them, nod at the stilted conversation, and excuse herself before anyone else retired. Though there was a fire in her chambers, the rooms were still cold. That would probably never change.

  One night, Darcy followed just a few minutes behind her. He tried the doorknob, but the door was already locked. He knocked and called for her, but what was there to say? He desisted after a few minutes.

  Some mornings later, the rain began as Elizabeth sipped her tea and grew more determined during her meeting with Mrs. Reynolds. It slapped the window glass in short, hard bursts, exercising its temper on the barrier.

  She could not go out until it abated. Perhaps she might take up Georgiana’s habit and keep to her own rooms today. She slipped out of the kitchen and past the morning room.

  “Elizabeth!”

  Lady Matlock’s sharp screech sent shivers down her spine. She stopped.

  Damn her feet.

  “Do come in and join us this morning. You must keep company with us. We have seen so little of you recently.”

  A lady did not sigh, at least not where anyone could see her do so, no matter how powerful the urge.

  Elizabeth turned and trudged into the morning room.

  Richard rose and held out a chair for her, his expression vaguely apologetic.

  Lady Matlock sipped her tea, peering over the rim of the cup. “You look well this morning. I feared you had taken ill.”

  “Thank you for your concern, madam. You will forgive me. I have been so busy—”

  “Yes, yes, regarding that. It is high time we discuss plans.”

  “Have you something you wish to do whilst here?”

  “Plans for your ball, you silly girl.” Lady Matlock patted the table.

  “Has Mr. Darcy expressed—”

  “Absolutely nothing. What does he have to say in the matter? Such things are not the purview of men.” She flipped her hand toward Richard.

  He shook his head and rolled his eyes, his face a picture of tolerance and good humor. If only she could endure as he. But then, what was Lady Matlock to Napoleon?

  “Pemberley’s first ball in years is just three weeks away, and I have yet to review any of your plans. Georgiana has hardly left her room. Was she not to plan that ridiculous picnic for the children? Has anything been accomplished toward that end?”

  “You have no reason for concern, Lady Matlock. I have everything well in hand.”

  Had Darcy not informed her he canceled the event?

  “You see, Mother, it is ex
actly as I told you.” Richard leaned forward and wagged his finger toward her. “Elizabeth has matters well in hand.”

  “It seems you do not have very high expectations of me, madam.”

  He pressed his lips hard, but failed to fully contain an inelegant snort.

  “Do not take that tone with me, young woman. I will not have it.” Lady Matlock drove her elbows into the table and rose up on them.

  Elizabeth stood and clutched the back of the chair. “Excuse me, madam, perhaps you have you forgotten, I am Mrs. Darcy. You may refer to Georgiana as ‘young woman’ if you wish, but I will not have you cast that appellation at me.”

  Lady Matlock’s face flushed crimson, and she trembled. “I am not accustomed to being spoken to in such a manner.”

  “Neither was Lady Catherine. I assure you, it did her no lasting harm.”

  Lady Matlock choked on her words, sputtering, just as Lady Catherine had done, even sharing the same high coloring. How comfortingly familiar.

  “I have no doubt she told you in great detail what I said to her on the day she assaulted my character at Longbourn. The same principle I addressed to her applies this day as well.”

  “Exactly what principle do you believe applies?”

  “I am unconcerned with the opinions offered by someone so wholly unconnected with me.”

  “Unconnected? How dare you? We are family to Darcy! Family! How can you consider us unconnected? Have you forgotten we are peers? What better connections do you hope to have?” Lady Matlock swept her arm before her, nearly knocking over the glasses on the table.

  “There are no bonds here of mutual respect or affection, only bonds of blood which are neither formed nor severed by choice. You are connected to us … to me, because you have no alternative. You have made your feelings on the matter entirely clear.”

  “What feelings? I have said nothing about feeling. What has sensibility to do with anything here?”

  Elizabeth’s knuckles turned white and her hands trembled, shaking the whole chair. “You have insulted me in every possible way. What more can you have to say to me?”

  “Darcy!” Lady Matlock shrieked.

  Elizabeth looked over her shoulder. Darcy stood in the doorway, jaw agape and eyes bulging.

  “You will not permit your wife to speak to me thus. I will not have it, not a moment more.”

  Darcy looked from his aunt to Elizabeth, a deep flush creeping up his jaw. His neck corded and his jaw clenched.

  Previously, she had only seen that expression when Wickham was mentioned.

  “What am I seeing?” His voice was measured, deep and tense.

  “What you are seeing is … is … is nothing at all. Absolutely nothing.” Elizabeth sprinted past him, brushing his shoulder as she went.

  He tried to grasp her hand, but she snatched it away and pelted for the kitchen.

  She caught a scullery maid and sent her for outerwear and her work basket. Rain or not, she could not spend another minute in this house.

  At least something was going in her favor, the rain had faded to a mere drizzle. She ventured out, pulling her pelisse closed.

  Darcy did not like her to walk alone. He insisted a maid or, better, a footman attend her whenever she traveled beyond the gardens.

  This morning, she had to be alone.

  ∞∞∞

  “You would permit her to speak to me in that manner, Darcy?” Aunt Matlock turned on him with a harpy’s fury.

  Darcy turned to Fitzwilliam. “What happened?”

  “The mistress of your household stood her ground against an invading army and the invader was taken by surprise.”

  “Invader!” Lady Matlock slapped the table. China clinked and rattled. “How dare you speak of your mother thus? I will not have it.”

  Fitzwilliam stood and tipped his head. “I shall happily accede to your wishes, madam.”

  He sauntered past Darcy.

  Darcy trailed him into the study.

  Fitzwilliam dropped into Darcy’s favorite chair and crossed his legs. “Bloody hell man! Your wife is all spit and fire. Did she really say those things to Aunt Catherine?”

  “Aunt Catherine went to Longbourn and confronted Elizabeth before we were betrothed.”

  “What I would have done to bear witness to that encounter.”

  “Our aunt was gravely displeased and her gracious sensibilities wounded. I bore a great deal of our aunt’s ire at the incident.”

  “You do not seem to disapprove, though.”

  “Hardly. It taught me to hope as I had not before that Elizabeth might accept my second offer of marriage.”

  “Second offer?”

  “Yes. I proposed to her once, in Kent, and she refused me.”

  Fitzwilliam dropped his foot hard and sat very straight. “I cannot believe it.”

  “She was entirely right to do so. I was insufferable.”

  “She refused you! Well that does put an interesting spin on it all, does it not? No one would believe any woman, particular not one in her station, would refuse a proposal from you.”

  “Thank you ever so much.” Darcy sat on the edge of his desk. “Now tell me what did I just walk in on?”

  “In short, mother insisted upon inspecting the plans for the ball and picnic. She intimated Elizabeth had no idea, whatsoever, what she was doing. Elizabeth disagreed and mother did not like it.”

  Darcy raked his hair out of his face. “I imagine not. Aunt Matlock is not accustomed to being challenged.”

  “Even father avoids disagreement with her where he can. Elizabeth charged in like a general on a black charger, sword drawn and cannons firing.”

  “I have been trying to keep them apart. Why do you think I insist on joining them in the drawing room every evening? I have been dreading just such an occurrence.”

  “The question is now, whom will you mollify first? No doubt both women will need soothing.”

  “Your mother is Uncle Matlock’s problem, not mine.” Darcy clutched his forehead.

  “Do not expect much remedy there. Usually he only upsets her more, unless he buys her some sort of trinket to pacify her temper. Is there a jeweler in Lambton?”

  “Not one who will suit her tastes.”

  “You must go to Elizabeth.”

  Darcy raked his hair again.

  “Methinks there is a wee bit of tension there?”

  Darcy flashed him a tight smile.

  “Perhaps more than a wee bit.”

  “She has barely spoken to me since you arrived.”

  “I imagine that is not all she has avoided. Such a shame, too. There is a rare spark in her.”

  Darcy growled and slapped his desk.

  “No wonder you are so tense. A married man should not—”

  “Another word and I will throw your body out.”

  “You should try. The exercise would do you good … and thoroughly routing you would do me good.”

  Tempting though it was, something in Fitzwilliam’s eyes suggested it would be a very bad idea to try.

  Darcy broke eye contact. “Forgive me, I forget myself.”

  “Indeed you do. A little levity never used to distress you like this.”

  “We were never talking about my wife before.” Darcy stared at the ceiling.

  There was a fine crack in the plaster. When had that happened?

  “Tell me.”

  “I am at wits’ end. She will not see me, will not speak to me. I feel as though she is running from me at every opportunity. I have no idea why.”

  “No idea? Surely you cannot be so thick.”

  “Enlighten me. I have done everything in my power to shield her from Aunt Matlock’s disapproval. I expected some appreciation for my efforts, not this.”

  Fitzwilliam pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, but it did nothing to quell his laughter. “Appreciated? Oh, Darce you truly have no idea, have you? Has it been so long since your mother’s passing that you have no idea how a mistress runs a hous
ehold?”

  “What are you talking about? Mrs. Reynolds has done a completely satisfactory job running Pemberley all these years. No one has ever voiced a complaint, including myself.”

  “I am not talking about a housekeeper, but a mistress.”

  “I do not have the pleasure of understanding you.”

  “You employ a steward, do you not? He manages what you give him, but the estate is not his.”

  “You are stating the obvious.”

  Fitzwilliam lifted his hand. “Bear with me a moment. The steward may take pride in his management, but it is not an extension of himself, not the way Pemberley is to you. If another, say my father, were to criticize how you managed the fields or the fences, would you take umbrage?”

  “Of course, how dare he suppose to know what is best for my estate.”

  “Exactly. That is what you have done.”

  “Ridiculous.”

  “How many times have you stepped into Elizabeth’s offices to directly manage affairs as you would have them to be?”

  “I am master of the house. Is it not my—”

  “Yes, it is your right to have things as you wish them to be. Yet, it is a matter of respect to not usurp her authority. My mother would never tolerate Father directly informing the housekeeper of what to serve. At dinner, when you declare we shall all withdraw together? Oh, Darcy.” Fitzwilliam leaned back and shook his head.

  “I am only protecting Elizabeth.”

  “You are declaring her an insufficient hostess in front of her guests. Allow her to handle matters. If you desire to say such a thing, it should be communicated in private.”

  “That is absurd.”

  “What other man have you ever seen do as you have done.”

  “I never paid attention.”

  “Of course you did not. You should not have had to; it is obvious.”

  No it was not. Few things were. Darcy dragged his hand over his face.

  “You know I do not grasp such things easily. Mother … she always explained the workings of these matters. I expected she had taught me all I needed to know.”

  “Apparently she did not. I only hope it is not too late for you to learn.”

  ∞∞∞

  The rain remained at a steady drizzle, enough to be noticeable and annoying, painting her eyelashes and cheeks, but not enough to actively take shelter against it. Even if it increased, she would not bother to hide from it. The clouds so effectively expressed the content of her soul, how could she deny their opportunity for expression?