by Jann Rowland
Darcy frowned. “Of course.”
The young woman’s brow crinkled, and she began to pick up speed on the ice, by necessity causing Darcy to move faster. Though he was technically supposed to lead, Darcy did not complain; rather, he felt almost compelled to smile as he was forced to hasten to keep her hand on his arm. And then when the young woman began to laugh, he felt that he was smiling, unable to stop himself from feeding off her ebullient mood.
“My sisters and I used to race across the pond when we were younger,” commented she suddenly. The flush of her cheeks rendered her eyes even more beautiful and mesmerizing, and Darcy felt his breath catch in his throat.
Shaking his head slightly to clear it, he asked her: “Why did you stop?”
“Why, Mr. Darcy, I suspect you know very well that the follies of youth must make way for the demands of maturity.”
He laughed, the sound uncommon even to his own ears, and he noted the expression of surprise on her face. “I do not believe you would ever let such a trifling thing as age keep you from any pursuits that interest you.”
She chuckled in return. “I suspect you are right, Mr. Darcy. Perhaps I should say, rather, that my sisters were the ones who allowed the demands of maturity to overtake them.”
“I think the Christmas season is a suitable time to allow oneself to lapse back into childhood, even if only briefly.”
Elizabeth Bennet beamed at him. “Why, Mr. Darcy, your words have the ring of something that I might say! I dare say my penchant for playfulness shall have an influence on you yet!”
There were words he left unspoken: “You have already had an influence on my heart, Miss Bennet.” He had fought his feelings valiantly, knowing the improprieties of her family and the inequality of their stations, yet as he continued to glide across the ice with the young woman, he found he no longer cared about why they should not be together; rather, all he could think about was why he wanted that smile directed at him.
A shout caught his attention, and he looked up to watch Bingley tumble to the ice, taking Jane Bennet with him. Fortunately, neither one was hurt; instead, the couple was enveloped with laughter at the situation, even as they struggled to regain their footing. Darcy could not help but notice, however, that Miss Bennet’s laugh was much more muted than his friend’s.
Miss Elizabeth chuckled as they passed the grounded couple, giving her sister a smile, and then she said to Darcy: “I believe that you and Jane are quite similar, Mr. Darcy.”
He looked at her in surprise. “Why might you think that, Miss Bennet?”
“You are alike in manner. Neither of you wears your heart on your sleeve; instead, you keep your feelings to yourself, as one might hide a good hand at cards from any nearby. While such reticence may not do a person any favors in love, I think on the whole it is something to be valued in those who possess truly fine characters.”
Considering Miss Elizabeth’s words, Darcy frowned to himself. As he came to a curve in the pond that allowed him to look at Bingley and Miss Bennet, he wondered if perhaps Bingley could be right after all. Darcy had been searching diligently for a sign that the eldest Bennet daughter felt any particular favor for Bingley, yet maybe it had been foolish to assume her regard would be displayed in the same manner as that of his friend, whose emotions were never in any doubt. Miss Elizabeth, to his knowledge, had no indication of Darcy’s particular preference for her. Darcy could very well have been in error to try to apply Bingley’s own personality to a perception of Jane Bennet.
His mood lightened, Darcy replied to Miss Elizabeth at last: “Perhaps you know me better than I know myself.”
A laugh and a yell were all the warning Darcy and Miss Elizabeth had before they were sent careening to the ice.
Confusion flooded Darcy’s mind as he struggled to sit up on the slick ice, and it did not take him long to realize the reason for his fall. It appeared that Lydia Bennet and one of those infernal redcoats had crashed into him and Miss Elizabeth. Miss Lydia was presently overcome by giggles, and the redcoat, Denny, could not help but chuckle, even as he attempted to apologize to Miss Elizabeth. Miss Lydia did not even bother, so caught up was she in her mirth.
What the two laughing assailants did not notice was the hint of pain on Miss Elizabeth’s face; it did not pass by Darcy, however.
“Miss Bennet,” said he quietly, “are you well?”
She winced and allowed him to help her sit up. Reaching out to touch her leg, she owned: “I think my ankle is sprained.”
Biting back the angry words he wanted to spew at Miss Lydia and her foolish paramour, Darcy instructed: “Take off your skates, Miss Bennet, and I shall assist you back to the house.”
Miss Elizabeth did not even bother arguing, which Darcy believed to be testament to her pain. Instead, she began to unstrap her skates, and Darcy endeavored to do the same. He gestured to a servant waiting beside the pond, and the young man came forward to take Darcy and Miss Elizabeth’s skates.
Darcy carefully stood on the ice and reached down to help Miss Elizabeth to her feet. They succeeded in getting her upright, but the expression on her face told him that she would not easily make it to the horse-drawn sleigh that waited nearby to take people to the main house.
“Miss Bennet?” asked he uneasily, his breath coming out in visible puffs in the cold air.
“Yes, Mr. Darcy?”
“Might I—might I carry you to the sleigh? I do not believe you will be able to make it on your leg.”
She hesitated a moment before inclining her head. “Though it mortifies me to require such assistance, I am afraid you are quite correct. I would be much obliged if you could aid me.”
He gently bent and picked her up. She put her arms around his neck for stability, and there was a brief instant where her cheek was pressed against his chest. Her body radiated warmth, and he could not help but smile down at her.
“Lizzy!” cried a voice.
Darcy turned to see the eldest Miss Bennet skating toward him in a panic, Bingley at her heels.
“Are you all right, Lizzy?” asked Miss Bennet.
“I will be fine,” said Miss Elizabeth warmly. “I am afraid Lydia knocked me down, and I hurt my ankle. Fortunately, I think it is only sprained, not broken. As you can see, Mr. Darcy is assisting me so that I may return to the house. You need not be concerned.”
Miss Bennet lifted her eyes to Darcy’s face, and he knew she was studying him, as if to determine whether he was a suitable assistant for her dearest sister. She suddenly nodded in acceptance, and he felt a lightening of his shoulders, though he was still holding Miss Elizabeth. Considering he had earlier been observing Jane Bennet with suspicion, it was odd that he should now value her approval.
With a slight nod of his head, he began to walk away from the pond, still holding Miss Elizabeth in his arms. Her warmth was comforting, and he could not help but reflect on how she seemed to fit against him perfectly. It appeared that all his efforts to withstand her charms had been in vain. He wondered how he had been living his life before without such a beacon of light in it. His sister Georgiana was all that was good, yet she was shy, and though he doted on her, it was easy for them to fall into silence whenever they were together. Unfortunately, the occasion of silence was simply one more opportunity for Darcy to brood. With Elizabeth Bennet nearby, however, it was difficult—if not impossible—to withdraw into himself.
They reached the sleigh, and as he assisted Miss Elizabeth into it, he could not help but keenly feel the absence of her slight form against him. How could his spirit have become so intertwined with hers without him knowing? Had she any knowledge of the effect she had on his heart?
“Thank you for your aid, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth Bennet once she was settled in the sleigh.
He inclined his head, unable to help the smile that touched his face. “It is always a pleasure to assist a fine young lady.”
She lifted an eyebrow, a hand coming up to touch his arm in surprise once the sleigh s
tarted to move with startling abruptness. She removed her hand quickly, and he wished he could grasp it to him.
“As often as you avoid dancing with young women at assemblies,” said she softly, “I should think aiding young ladies to be the thing furthest from your mind. Still, that smile on your face seems to be genuine, though I am not accustomed to seeing you wear such an unguarded expression.”
He gave a slight chuckle, earning himself another raised brow. “I am not a beast, Miss Bennet. I do smile when the occasion is appropriate.”
She laughed herself, the noise mingling with the ringing bells on the horses’ harness. Darcy’s first thought was that it was one of the most beautiful sounds in the world. His second thought was an admonition to himself that he was getting too caught up in the jovial spirits that sometimes infected people during the Christmas season. The third thought that came to him was that, for once, he did not care about avoiding even the slightest appearance of foolishness in order to bulwark his pride, and so he began to laugh with her.
When their mirth had run its course and the house was in sight, Elizabeth turned to look up at Darcy. Her cheeks were pink with the cold, and her eyes appeared as if they were shining with joy. For that expression to be directed at him filled Darcy’s heart with inexplicable warmth.
“I am glad I sprained my ankle, Mr. Darcy.”
“Why is that, Miss Bennet?” queried he with a frown.
“Though I love the opportunity to glide across the pond like a rather large swan rather than fall upon it like a clumsy duck,” said she, smiling at him, “I am glad that I had the opportunity to see a different side of you. I fear that silly prejudices had turned me against you, yet I do not think you are so horrid as I had believed.”
Though uncertain whether her words should fill him with gladness or sorrow, Darcy smiled back and shook his head. “I do not believe such a thing as a sprained ankle to be a very merry Christmas gift.”
Elizabeth’s smile only seemed to grow larger. “Mr. Darcy, you must know that a scheme of which every part promises delight can never be successful, and general disappointment is only warded off by the defense of some little peculiar vexation. Had everything turned out perfectly today upon the pond, I should have constantly been comparing today to the winters I have experienced in the past. I think I have instead gained something much more valuable.”
“And what would that be, Miss Bennet?”
She grabbed his arm, lightly clutching it. “A friend. That is, of course, if I do not presume too much.”
“I would be honored to be known as your friend, Miss Bennet. And . . . dare I say . . . you would never be the sort to presume too much.”
Miss Elizabeth looked at him, and gleaning the humor in his eyes, she laughed. “A joke from Mr. Darcy! Shall the wonders of this day never cease?”
He stared at her and thought to himself that the day had been perfect indeed, sprained ankle and all. Though he had initially fought his burgeoning feelings, he now realized that all the money in England could not make him feel as warm inside as one smile from Miss Bennet. And if she had decided she could call him her friend, then perhaps there was hope that he might one day claim the privilege of courting her with her approval and then, God willing, make her his wife.
It had started snowing at the beginning of their sleigh ride, and Miss Bennet tilted her head back, letting the snowflakes fall onto her face. As Darcy watched her, his heart swelling with some indefinable emotion, she told him, her eyes closed: “Happy Christmas, Mr. Darcy.”
He whispered back: “Happy Christmas, Miss Bennet.
The End
Charity Never Faileth
by
Colin Rowland
The impression I have of Mrs. Bennet is that of a woman to whom personal status is almost as important as the goal of seeing her daughters married. In this story, I decided to explore what might happen if Elizabeth and Jane were to have separate weddings and how far Mrs. Bennet might go to ensure that both celebrations were truly amazing.
Elizabeth Bennet tended to behave as a creature of habit, and today was no different. She had risen early, always one of the first in the manor to greet each new day. After dressing, she had made her way down the staircase to the cloakroom for her coat and walking boots. Her plan, on this morning as on most others, was to depart the house and spend an hour or more exploring the many paths and lanes winding around the Longbourn estate. Elizabeth considered time spent out of doors the most rewarding part of her day and counted herself unfortunate on those occasions when she could not partake of this most pleasant of pastimes.
This day, however, did not conform to her established pattern. Upon exiting the cloakroom, her outerwear fastened, Elizabeth looked to the end of the hall and Mr. Bennet’s library. The door stood open, which in itself was a strange occurrence at this time of day. To add further to the mystery, light from the room’s lamps could be seen flickering, casting dancing shadows against the surface of the hall opposite, while the sound of quiet imprecations and papers being shuffled could be heard nearby, lending a distinct unease to what had begun as a quiet and normal morning.
Elizabeth paused in contemplation. Should she venture to the open door or refuse to assuage the curiosity tempting her forward? To be sure, mystery beckoned, as if with an outstretched arm waving for her to approach. Elizabeth, try as she might, could not recall a past occasion where this door had been intentionally left ajar.
The library was Mr. Bennet’s sanctuary, the one room in the manor he could call his own. Whenever he wished to escape what he considered the nonsense which often characterized evenings in the sitting room, Mr. Bennet would retreat to his library. Invitations to the room were rare for the most part, although Elizabeth, as his favorite child, had been admitted frequently.
Yielding to her curiosity, Elizabeth approached the entrance and looked in, unsure of what she might discover. Her father’s desk remained where it usually was, but its surface was littered with ledgers, both open and shut. Behind it, his demeanor utterly unlike what she expected to see in his private haven, slumped her father. His head rested between his hands as he shook it from side to side, and Elizabeth could hear him murmuring: “She will bring about the ruin of my family’s good name.”
Elizabeth remained at the door for a moment, observing her father’s distress, unsure whether to announce her presence or to retreat and leave him with his dilemma. The decision was taken from her when, without warning, Mr. Bennet looked up and saw her.
Accepting escape to be impossible, Elizabeth called upon her cheeriest smile to lift his spirits.
“I should have supposed you to be still abed,” said she while approaching the desk. “It is most unusual to find you awake so early.”
At this, her father looked in surprise to the great clock which stood in the room.
“A new day is upon us already?” asked he. “I became so engrossed in my study of the estate accounts that I lost track of time.”
“Is this not a task to be undertaken at month’s end?” asked Elizabeth. “More than a week remains until Christmas is upon us, and I know you well enough to understand attending to matters of the estate is not your favorite activity.”
“No, I do not relish my financial duties with regard to Longbourn,” said Mr. Bennet with a sigh. “I have spent the night studying the records of earnings realized and disbursements made through the year. It is usually a simple task of not more than one or two hours, and with weddings to arrange, I thought I might review the accounts and begin to set aside such funds as are available for the expenses that will surely arise.”
“But Papa, morning is upon us, and the sun will soon arise,” said Elizabeth. “Is there something amiss? Has the year’s harvest been poor?”
“The year has been kind,” said he. “The harvest was a boon to the tenants, and the Longbourn accounts have swelled accordingly.”
“Then should you not be in a celebratory frame of mind?” asked Elizabeth. “I should t
hink this year above all is one of joy, with Lydia wedded and residing in Newcastle, and Jane and I soon to wed as well. With a household reduced by three, your accounts at next year-end will be fatter, and you and Mama will be happier and blessed with the peace of a more serene household.”
Elizabeth’s words made Mr. Bennet smile. “It is true that Lydia’s marriage brought with it a serenity Mrs. Bennet and I have not enjoyed in many years. No longer am I beset with complaints engendered by her behavior or the gossip of the Meryton busybodies. Furthermore, without Lydia’s influence, I shall own that Kitty is becoming a quiet and studious girl. She now accepts my counsel. I believe when she is ready to come out, she will bear the poise and grace her younger sister always lacked.”
“Why, then, are you troubled?” asked Elizabeth. “Are you not fortunate in every way? Jane and Mr. Bingley are engaged, though we had once thought it hopeless, and I found happiness with Mr. Darcy when we reconciled in Derbyshire. I would surmise you also find joy in how it has all come to pass. If this is so, whatever can the problem be?”
Mr. Bennet did not at first reply and even avoided looking at Elizabeth. Finally, however, he revealed what had been troubling him. “My concerns arise from the very situation bringing so much joy to Mrs. Bennet. She is beside herself at present, as she has become caught up in preparations for the weddings of her two eldest daughters.”
“I have noticed,” said Elizabeth. “She speaks only of her increase in stature with three daughters married, and one to the nephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, no less!”
“Therein lies the problem,” said Mr. Bennet. “Her plans are excessive. Mrs. Bennet considers herself to have been cheated by the fact that she was unable to be in attendance at Lydia’s wedding to Wickham. She has been complaining that a loss of face has attached itself to her because of the elopement that foolish girl attempted.”