by Leenie Brown
He had arrived at Pemberley just last week. He had accompanied his commander back from the continent with the last of the troops at the end of November, and then, after a short time in London settling into his townhouse and making ready his office for the beginning of the parliamentary season, he had been given leave to travel.
“He has survived well,” Darcy commented. It was not the first time he had said so since Richard’s arrival.
“I am sure there are shadows,” Elizabeth replied. “There always are.”
Darcy clasped her hand in his. He knew she was not only speaking of shadows formed by the atrocities of war but also of the shadows that hung about any individual after a trying experience — fears, guilt, regrets, or the dreaded expectation of the recurrence of some event.
“They can be vanquished,” he whispered.
Her head rubbed against his shoulder as she nodded. “Most can, but I imagine there are particularly dark ones which cannot.” She squeezed his hand. “I am glad that no such shadows have attached themselves to our family.”
“As am I.” He shifted slightly as his foot began to prickle from sitting in one position for so long. “I fear the shadow over Bingley may never rise.”
Elizabeth smiled and lifted his hand to her lips. “You are a very good man, Mr. Darcy.”
“Thank you,” he turned his head to look down at her, “but I am not entirely certain as to the reason for my goodness.”
“You care for him,” she smiled up at Darcy and tilted her head toward where Bingley and Jane sat listening to Richard’s tale. “A lesser man would not.”
“You give me too much credit, my dear.”
She chuckled. “I do no such thing, sir. I have watched you not only forgive the one who so grievously wronged you, but you have also taken care to ensure he knows that he is forgiven. No mention of his wrong doings has crossed your lips in his presence,” she lifted a brow, “even when he has been particularly trying about something.” She sighed. “I do not know how Jane tolerates his stubbornness at times.”
At that, Darcy chuckled, and Thomas once again whimpered and turned his head, apparently unhappy with the rumbling of the laugh. “I imagine she learned patience from you,” he lowered his voice and a particularly attractive, if somewhat impish, smile played at his mouth, “as well as your other sisters and mother.”
Elizabeth attempted to scowl but could not. He was correct. Jane was the only one who ever responded with patience to any of her sisters or her mother. Nearly all of those trying Bennet women were in attendance at Pemberley. Elizabeth sighed contentedly.
Mrs. Bennet was currently in the nursery reading stories to Jane’s children. Nothing, not even the colonel’s tales of far of places, would dissuade her from what she saw as her responsibilities as a grandmother.
Mary had not journeyed to Derbyshire. Her husband’s business could not be shut up, and she would not leave him to manage alone, especially not at Christmas.
Lydia had attempted to be included in the group, but no invitation had been extended. A parcel of presents and a bit of money had, however, found their way to the Wickhams in Newcastle. Jane had heard of the package being assembled and had made certain a warm pair of woolen socks for each of Lydia’s two daughters, as well as a new cap for Lydia, were included.
Kitty was in attendance, but she was not especially merry, for she had left behind her beau, who, just prior to her leaving, had made an offer for her hand and was accepted. She was finding the separation to be a trial, but an unlikely source ─ Bingley ─ had often come to her aid in diverting her with a game or some small bit of amusement. And so, she was tolerating her sojourn in Derbyshire with a greater sense of equanimity that Elizabeth had foreseen.
Darcy shifted beside her again. “We should see Thomas to his bed,” he suggested. “I do believe Uncle Amberly is about to snore.”
The gentleman’s head was bowed, and his eye closed.
“You know he is waiting to see the child to his bed and kiss his head.”
It had become a tradition of sorts during the Amberly’s short stay at Pemberley. Each night, as Thomas was carried to his bed, Gareth Amberly would follow behind and, after Darcy and Elizabeth had said their good nights, he would whisper a poem to the boy, kiss his head, and place a coin in a jar to pay the maker of dreams for pleasant ones.
Maria Amberly would shake her head and smile as she watched. They had had no children on which to dote, save Jack when he came to them. And so, they doted on Thomas as grandparents would, and neither Darcy nor Elizabeth discouraged it. For without Uncle Amberly’s interference, the wiggly, often demanding child, who was sleeping on Darcy’s shoulder, would not have come to be.
“We should” Elizabeth stood and offered her hand to help Darcy rise from the couch. “We will return,” she assured Lady Matlock, who had turned to look in their direction. The comment was greeted with a tentative smile and a small nod.
Lady Matlock had yet to be completely won over in her opinion of Elizabeth, but she kept her peace and refrained from any disparagement and slowly seemed to be coming around to the position that her husband had already adopted that Elizabeth was quite acceptable and decidedly charming.
After seeing their son to bed, Darcy drew Elizabeth down the hall and to the window in their room to look out at the clear star-filled sky. He wrapped her in his arms, pulling her against his chest and kissing the top of her head. “It is peaceful,” he murmured.
Elizabeth sighed and relaxed against him. “Will you be wishing on a Christmas star, Mr. Darcy?”
“I might.” He kissed the top of her head again. “But it will not be for me.”
She turned to look at him. “It will not? Then, for whom shall it be?”
He brushed a piece of hair from her face. “Thomas, perhaps.”
She smiled at him. “And for what will you wish?”
“That he shall one day be as happy as I am at this very moment with a house filled with family who are safe and well and a wife whom I adore.” He kissed her softly. “And you Mrs. Darcy, for what would you wish?”
She pursed her lips and furrowed her brow. “I would wish happiness for our children, but it seems you have already done so if you but change the wording to include more than just Thomas.”
Darcy chuckled. “Very well, I shall include all of our children in my wish.”
“Then, I have nothing left for which to wish, for the desire of my heart, whom I once thought was lost, now holds me in his arms and speaks of our children.” She smiled as Darcy cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.
He kissed her while down the hall, past the nursery, Uncle Amberly climbed into his bed where he could snore in peace, and Aunt Amberly prepared to endure it.
He kissed her while beneath them, in a crowded sitting room, as Richard began another tale of far away places, Jane slipped her hand into Bingley’s and smiled, not as she always did, but just for him.
Though Elizabeth reminded him of their guests, Darcy continued to kiss her, even as Lady Matlock glanced at the clock before frowning at the door to the sitting room, and Lord Matlock patted her hand and gave her a wink.
“I said we would return,” Elizabeth attempted a second weak protest as Darcy’s mouth left her lips, turning their attention to her neck just below her ear.
“Mmm hmm,” he murmured, “we will.”
And they did, but not until they had made certain that, next Christmas, there would be more than just Thomas for whom to wish.
Before You Go
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About the Author
Leenie Brown has always been a girl with an active imagination, which, while growing up, was a both an asset, providing many hours of fun as she played out stories, and a liability, when her older sister and aunt would tell her frightening tales. At one time, they had her convinced Dracula lived in the trunk at the end of the bed she slept in when visiting her grandparents!
Although it has been years since she cowered in her bed in her grandparents’ basement, she still has an imagination which occasionally runs away with her, and she feeds it now as she did then ─ by reading!
Her heroes, when growing up, were authors, and the worlds they painted with words were (and still are) her favourite playgrounds! She was that child, under the covers with the flashlight, reading until the wee hours of the morning…and pretending not to be tired the next day so her mother wouldn’t find out.
In addition to feeding her imagination, she also exercises it ─ by writing. While writing has been an activity she has dabbled in over the years, it blossomed into a full-fledged obsession when she stumbled upon the world of Jane Austen Fan Fiction. Leenie had first fallen in love with Jane Austen’s work in her early teens when she was captivated by the tale of a girl, who like her, was the second born of five daughters. Now, as an adult, she spends much time in the regency world, playing with the characters from her favourite Jane Austen novels and a few that are of her own creation.
When she is not traipsing down a trail in an attempt to keep up with her imagination, Leenie resides in the beautiful province of Nova Scotia with her two sons and her very own Mr. Brown (a wonderful mix of all the best of Darcy, Bingley and Edmund with a healthy dose of the teasing Mr. Tilney and just a dash of the scolding Mr. Knightley).
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