by Jann Rowland
When Georgiana saw Elizabeth, she touched Mr. Darcy’s hand and nodded toward the doorway Elizabeth occupied. In a whisper, Georgiana made a final remark to her brother before gesturing for Mr. Bingley to follow her and approaching Elizabeth with a smile upon her face.
“Hear him,” said Georgiana in passing as she and Mr. Bingley exited the room, leaving Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy as its only occupants.
“I see the timber burning on the hearth,” said Elizabeth, unsure of herself and the reaction she would engender in Mr. Darcy. “Forgive my temerity, but it is a beautiful reminder of the reason for the celebration of this holiday.”
At the obvious confusion upon his face, she continued her explanation: “To me, the Yule log has always represented the best of Christmas. The timber burning suggests a cleansing of the trials and tribulations of the year past, while the tradition of setting it alight with a remnant of the previous log speaks of new birth, such as was the case on the first Christmas Day so many years ago. I cannot help but contemplate the birth of the baby in the manger and the hope it gives to us all.
“It is my fervent desire that you can find it in your heart to forgive my foolish behavior. I became so involved in my desire to transform Pemberley into a copy of our observances at Longbourn that I neglected to account for the distress I inadvertently caused you and Georgiana. Please do not let my sins further taint this most perfect of days.”
Mr. Darcy’s heart softened as he heard Elizabeth’s heartfelt plea and witnessed the tears traveling down her cheeks. In shame, he bowed his head, unable to find the courage to gaze into the beautiful eyes of this woman whom he loved most in the world.
“It is I who must beg your forgiveness,” said he. “I have held to the past far too long. In doing so, I faced the danger of discounting the love I feel growing within my heart. If not for Georgiana’s persistence and unwillingness to accept my prideful and haughty airs, I might have been deprived of your smiling wit and cheerful composure forever. I have acted abominably and find it necessary to throw myself at your feet in the hope that you can overlook my inadequacies and remain at Pemberley for the entirety of the Christmas season, as you had first planned.”
“But what of your memories of the previous Christmas seasons? Are you not concerned they will be swept away by changes you will be forced to accept?”
“As was pointed out, by both you and my sister, those recollections will forever be part of the commemoration of this day. They will not be supplanted but, rather, enhanced by those we will create together in the years to come.”
“Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth shyly, “are you asking for my hand in marriage?”
“I dare not make such an undertaking,” said he with a smile and a quick wink, “until I am in closer proximity to your father, that I might immediately seek permission after you have agreed to accept my offer.
“Furthermore,” added he in a whisper only Elizabeth could hear, “should I ask and receive your acceptance, I would no longer be able to enjoy your company over the remainder of this joyous season, as proper decorum would insist you leave the estate. As a result, I think such a question is best saved for another time.”
The joy which appeared upon Elizabeth’s visage lasted until her departure for Longbourn—and indeed until long after she was again at her home in Hertfordshire.
The End
No Greater Love
by
Jann Rowland
I do not often write of Darcy and Elizabeth after they are married, as I usually prefer imagining them coming together in various ways. As I was contemplating different traditions, the ones associated with St. Stephen's Day, also called Boxing Day, made me wonder what Elizabeth's first Christmas might be like if she was determined to fill the role of mistress that had been vacant for so long.
“Shall I search for her?”
The question hung in the air, those present in the room gazing at the new mistress as if she were spouting nonsense. But Elizabeth was perfectly serious in her offer. Upon arriving, the tenants had gathered their children together to meet with the new mistress of the estate, but while the three children were standing in a dutiful line before her, her keen hearing had heard and understood the muted comments concerning a fourth child, a girl called Jenny who could be found nowhere.
“Mistress,” ventured the footman, a young man by the name of Jack, “I think that would be unwise.”
“We can find Jenny ourselves, Mrs. Darcy,” added Mrs. Johnson, the tenant’s wife. “There be no call for you to search for our wayward child.”
“On the contrary,” said Elizabeth, pointing back out the front door, “it will take all of us to ensure your daughter’s safety, for the weather is worsening as we speak.”
It was nothing less than the truth, for the soft flakes which had fallen about the estate, coating all in a soft, white blanket, had become heavier, whipped about by a sudden increase in the wind. William, the sweet man that he was, had worried for Elizabeth’s safety when she had departed that morning, predicting the arrival of a winter storm by the evening.
“Oh, I suppose you can predict the winter, having lived here all your life?” Elizabeth had said to him noting his widening smile at her saucy impertinence. He had always claimed he appreciated the liveliness of her mind and the confidence she displayed.
“I think that is not possible for anyone,” had been William’s reply. “But yes, my residence at Pemberley has given me a certain insight into the weather. I expect we shall experience a bad storm before evening falls.”
“I understand and will hurry through the deliveries,” said Elizabeth, not wanting to worry him, “but I am determined to proceed as planned, William. Though Georgiana has performed admirably, Pemberley has not had a true mistress since your mother’s passing. At Longbourn, it is a tradition for the mistress to distribute boxes for St. Stephen’s Day, and it is a tradition I mean to institute here as well.”
It seemed William had seen enough of her determination to know when she would not yield, for he did not protest further. “Very well. But I shall send a footman to assist with the deliveries and ensure you return home in safety.”
“Oh, do you not think your driver is capable of the feat?”
“Mr. Walsh's skills are not in question. But it would be of comfort to me if Jack also accompanied you.”
“Then I accept,” said Elizabeth. “His assistance will be welcome, I am sure.” After a quick kiss, Elizabeth had ordered the sledge loaded so she could make her deliveries. Though there was a smaller carriage available for journeys about the property, Elizabeth had been grateful there was just enough snow to allow her to go by sledge, for there was rarely enough snow in Hertfordshire for such a treat. Now, however, the snow was a hindrance, and the pending winter storm a danger, for little Jenny needed to be found quickly.
“Do you know where she might have gone?” asked Elizabeth, determined to be of use to these people.
The husband and wife exchanged a look before Mrs. Johnson ventured: “She likes to play down by the brook, though the nearby strand of trees is also a favorite of hers.”
“Then I shall go toward the brook,” said Elizabeth, “while everyone else can look in a different location. If we depart now, we should return home with your daughter soon.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Darcy,” said an obviously relieved Mrs. Johnson. “I am sure I will speak to Jenny for causing this trouble.”
“Not at all,” replied Elizabeth with a warm smile. “Should you have occasion to hear my mother speak of me when I was a girl, I am certain you would hear similar tales of my exploits.”
Elizabeth soon had the searchers organized. Besides her and Jack, the driver and the girl’s father had been pressed into service. Mr. Walsh, just as Jack had, looked on Elizabeth as if she were daft, but unlike the footman, he said nothing, content instead to mutter under his breath. With a final few words of exhortation, Elizabeth commenced the search.
It quickly became apparent that E
lizabeth had miscalculated the imminent nature of the approaching storm, not to mention the ferocity it was to attain. The wind blew harder every moment, and the snowflakes were becoming finer, turning to little pellets that stung the skin of her face as she pressed on. Though the land had already been covered by heavy snowflakes lazily drifting down from a heavy, grey sky, now the finer variety was just as swiftly building the drifts higher due to the simple fact of how hard it was now snowing, to say nothing of the wind whipping them about in some frenetic dance.
Though Elizabeth had always felt herself to be a hardy soul, she soon began to worry for her safety. Still, she continued to search and call out, motivated by the thought of a girl of only five years wandering in this weather at the mercy of the driving snow.
It was a trick of the wind, the imaginings of a fertile mind, but as she pressed on, Elizabeth thought she heard the sound of voices. The cold, which was becoming bitterer by the moment, told her she was risking life and limb for a girl she had never met. The wind shrieked in her ear, telling her it was pointless, that she would never locate the young girl before she collapsed because of the cold and exhaustion. Mustering a grim determination, Elizabeth pushed the voices screaming at her aside and pushed herself forward. Though she could not say how long she had been fighting against the storm, at last an answer to her calls came.
“Help!” cried a small voice.
At first, Elizabeth thought she might have imagined it, but then it sounded again: “Help!”
“Jenny!” called Elizabeth, trying to gain her bearings in the white landscape.
“Here!” came the response.
Following the direction in which she thought the voice had originated, Elizabeth found a small clump of trees. Huddled at the base of one tall oak squatted a pretty young girl sniffling in distress. Elizabeth crouched down and gathered the little girl in close, sheltering her from as much of the wind as she could.
“Jenny, you have given us all a fright!”
“I just wanted to play,” said the whimpering little girl. “I meant no trouble.”
“Yes, my dear, I know. But now we must see to returning you home.”
Doing as she suggested, however, was not as easy as saying it. The whiteness of the landscape offered no discerning features by which she could navigate, and as the wind howled ever louder in their ears, she knew it would be difficult to find the house again. Walking past it out into the middle of Pemberley’s fields, confused by the ferocity of the storm might even prove fatal.
“Shelter,” murmured Elizabeth to herself as she pulled her pelisse tighter around her frame. “We must find shelter.”
Jenny said nothing, her continued whimpering sounding strangely comforting in Elizabeth’s ears. Knowing at once that to stay there was death, Elizabeth rose and looked back the way she had come. Though she knew the direction they must go, she might as well have been facing a wall, for the white barrier of winter flakes appeared solid to her tired eyes in the fading light. Left with no other choice, Elizabeth gathered the girl to her and steeled herself for the coming fight, only to pause as a thought occurred to her.
“There is a shack by the brook near the small waterfall!” said Elizabeth to herself.
At Elizabeth’s words, the young girl stopped whimpering and looked up into her face. “Yes, I have played there!”
“Now, we need only determine which direction to take,” said Elizabeth, feeling uneasy, knowing it would be difficult to find in all this snow. The brook was not far distant, perhaps only a few hundred yards in the opposite direction from which she had come. The small hut she had seen once or twice while walking would provide at least a hint of shelter and perhaps even a means for creating a fire if they could reach it, but should they choose the wrong direction in their attempt to reach the hut, they might walk until exhaustion set in.
“I can find it, Miss,” said Jenny.
Elizabeth looked down at the cherubic face staring up at her, surprised at the transformation that had taken place. In contrast with the misery that had cloaked her when the pair had first met, Jenny was now filled with determination and purpose.
“You know where it is?” asked Elizabeth.
“If we walk to the brook and go that way,” said the girl, pointing to her right, “it is not far.”
“Then let us be off,” said Elizabeth, grasping the child’s hand in hers.
It was a difficult journey, though Elizabeth thought it did not take them much more than five or ten minutes to accomplish. The wind howled when the pair left the dubious protection of the trees, and for a moment, Elizabeth thought they might become disoriented in the storm. But they fought on, endeavoring to veer neither right nor left, and they soon came to the banks of the now-frozen brook.
Having reached their first objective, Elizabeth glanced down at Jenny and pointed to the right, raising her eyebrow in question. When Jenny nodded without hesitation, Elizabeth decided to trust her, and she turned them in the direction the girl had indicated. The walking here was even more difficult, as the banks of the small river brought small rises which were quickly collecting great drifts of snow.
At length, when the dark outline of the hut rose before them only a short distance from the brook, Elizabeth could have cried with relief. The door was set in the south side of the building, away from the river, and swung open easily when Elizabeth pushed on the handle. Inside, a small room was revealed to their eager eyes, devoid of furnishings except for a rickety chair in one corner and a rough bed in another. There were, she noted, a small, yet inadequate, pile of wood near the door, several old blankets folded and stacked on the bed, and several furs piled near the hearth. A sigh of relief escaped Elizabeth’s lips; at least with those blankets, they would not freeze overnight.
“I will search for some firewood,” said Elizabeth, crouching down next to Jenny. “It will make our stay more pleasant if we can start a fire.”
“The pile is around the back,” said the girl. “I saw it when I was playing.”
“Then let me gather it,” said Elizabeth, rising again to her feet.
Admonishing the girl to stay within, Elizabeth braved the storm once again, moving to the back of the building to find the wood Jenny had seen. Though it was blanketed in snow, Elizabeth knocked it clear of whatever covering she could before taking it into the house and stacking it beside the door. Soon Elizabeth had a pile of wood which would more than carry them through the night if they managed to start a fire.
“Look what I found!” cried Jenny as Elizabeth closed and latched the door again.
Indeed, the young girl had found a treasure. Under the pile of furs which Jenny had moved away from the fireplace was a small hamper containing meticulously stacked rows of kindling and a pile of smaller twigs, branches, and reeds that could be used to start a fire. Furthermore, on the mantle above them sat an old tinderbox which contained the flint and tinder they needed.
“It seems someone has kept this hut stocked and ready for use,” commented Elizabeth, thinking she knew who would care for such seemingly minor concerns.
“Can you build a fire with these, Miss?” asked Jenny.
“I can,” said Elizabeth. “My father taught me how to do so many years ago when I was only a little older than you to assist me in just such a situation as this.”
The girl attended her, curiosity written upon her cherubic face as Elizabeth pulled the necessary items from the basket and took several logs from the pile by the door. As her father had taught her, she arranged the items, putting the smallest at the bottom and the kindling above. Over it all, she leaned two larger pieces of wood from the dry pile inside the hut rather than the wetter pieces she had brought in from the outside. Then she struck the flint, creating sparks and causing Jenny to gasp. Soon, the sparks ignited the smaller pieces and the flames started to lick their way up the kindling. Within ten minutes, there was a small yet cheery blaze burning, already warming the room from its frigid state.
“You know a lo
t, Miss,” said Jenny, gazing wide-eyed at Elizabeth. “Who are you? I have not seen you before.”
“Oh, I have not lived here for long,” said Elizabeth, not wishing to frighten the girl by informing her of her status as the master’s wife. “But I am sure we shall be well acquainted by the time we are able to leave tomorrow.”
Jenny, seeming to sense that Elizabeth was holding back, looked at her for a few moments. Then she appeared to decide it did not matter and turned her attention back to the fire, putting her hands out to warm them against the chill.
“Come,” said Elizabeth after a moment. “We should remove our sodden coats and dry them, or we will remain cold.”
“Shall we not be colder if we remove our coats?” asked Jenny. “And our dresses are wet also.”
“The room is warm enough now,” said Elizabeth, unbuttoning her pelisse. “When it becomes a little warmer, we shall also remove our dresses so they can dry.”
Soon, they were situated on the furs with blankets—which they had discovered were only a little dusty—around them. Elizabeth had hung their dresses and coats over the chair which she had moved close to the fire. They felt cozy before long, and the extra fuel Elizabeth had added to the fire had urged the flames higher, such that the room was now almost comfortable. As Elizabeth sat before the fire, gazing into its depths with a drowsy little girl propped up against her, she thought of her wonderful husband. He must be almost frantic with worry for her. She would make it up to him, she decided, when the opportunity presented itself. Though the weather made it impossible, she knew he would dispatch searchers the following morning as soon as it was light out, and they would be discovered quickly. For the present, there was nothing for them to eat and they were both hungry, and Elizabeth was grateful Jenny did not complain, seeming to recognize there was nothing they could do except wait until morning.
“Do you know any Christmas stories?” asked Jenny after some time of sitting together in this fashion.