How Darcy Saved Christmas

by Rose Fairbanks

  “Indeed,” Mrs. Gardiner smiled. “My father has delighted in telling everyone old stories of all my childhood mishaps and pranks. I would blush, but it is a parent’s prerogative to embarrass their child—apparently regardless of age.”

  “I would agree with you,” George said. “My father enjoys endless tales of my exploits. Even more than that, he relives the days of his friend and companion, Mr. Darcy. Does Mr. Fisher ever speak of the old master?”

  “Yes,” Mrs. Gardiner nodded. “He highly revered him.” She paused and caught Darcy’s eye. “However, he also greatly respects the current master of Pemberley. I hope I do not embarrass you too much by saying so to your face, Mr. Darcy.”

  George had been inexplicably rude to speak like that and Darcy nodded as he accepted Mrs. Gardiner’s form of an apology. “Few men could hear themselves praised by a gentleman as upstanding as Mr. Fisher and not be humbled. I am pleased to have earned his respect, and he certainly has mine.”

  “No greater claim than this can any man have,” Mr. Gardiner said as he raised up his teacup as though in a toast. “To have the respect of his honourable peers is all he could want in life.”

  “I would add that a gentleman might want a wife to be a blessing to him. The gift of a loving woman is surely a balm to many a man who has not garnered the respect of their fellows,” George said.

  Darcy’s hands tensed. To avoid being noticed, he occupied them with the tea Mrs. Gardiner served them. He remained silent until the others discussed some matter of Lambton life with George. He turned a bit to Elizabeth, who seemed to notice his movement immediately.

  “How has your day passed?” he inquired.

  “We were surprised to have a visit from Mr. George Wickham,” Elizabeth whispered. “I had expected someone else when I heard the knock.” She gave him a meaningful look. “I fear I quite insulted him with the disappointment on my face. I have been attempting to make it up by being as civil as possible.”

  Darcy glanced at the man who had been a thorn in his side all of his life. Although he listened to Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, Darcy thought he could tell that George attempted to watch the interaction between Darcy and Elizabeth. “Your aunt said that he was returning your call?”

  “Before Christmas, I was admiring the window displays at his office. He invited us in for tea. We sat with him and his father for many minutes.”

  “How was Mr. Wickham?” Darcy asked in genuine concern. The man had supposedly retired for his health’s sake, but then opened his old law practice and became a recluse as soon as George finished his studies.

  “Aging, and I suppose he does not do much of the work at the practice. However, his pride in his son was unmistakable.”

  Darcy knew it to be true. “Have you seen the younger Wickham since then?”

  “No. We were busy over Christmas. However, his visit did put us in good cheer, for he hopes to host a Twelfth Night Ball at the inn and has asked for our particular assistance in planning the festivities.”

  “A Twelfth Night Ball,” Darcy said in a voice which could freeze water.

  Elizabeth met Darcy’s eyes. “Yes. Many people enjoy such frivolity, especially at the Christmas holiday. I hear your parents used to host them, so you ought not to look as though you have never heard of such a thing.”

  Oh, he had heard of them. He only wondered how George was funding it. “What do you imagine my objection is?”

  “Me?” Elizabeth feigned innocence. “I did not say you objected to the ball.”

  “No, but your reaction to my words was clear. You believe I disapprove. You may as well tell me what you think is the cause of my dislike.”

  “I suppose you do not condone anything but pious worship through the holidays.”

  “Nonsense,” Darcy said. “I will say, however, if the ball does proceed, I hope to obtain your hand for a set or two.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “I do not know that I should grant them to you. I think you will be rather a trial to dance with.”

  “I am an excellent dancer.”

  “Then I ought to refuse for certain. There is little use in a lady having a superior partner. You will only make me look inept in contrast.” Elizabeth held her lips together as though she were hiding a laugh.

  “Do not tempt me to do something drastic before your relations,” he warned.

  Elizabeth sobered, but a curious look entered her eyes. “I shall inquire more later. For now, I forfeit. I do not know why you seemed unhappy to hear about the ball if you do not hate dancing or the holiday.”

  “I am no friend of dancing,” said he, “however, I cannot like you with another man. Even more, I cannot bear to see you with the man who murdered my sister.”

  Beside him, Elizabeth gasped. “Are we not safe?”

  “You are perfectly safe,” and he would do his best to ensure she always was. “I will explain more later.”

  There was a lull in conversation between the others, and George withdrew his watch. “I must be going. However, I hope this was the first of many delightful visits during your holiday in the area. Well, the second visit I should say.” He glanced at Darcy. “I will bid you adieu and look forward to our next encounter.” He then bowed to Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner and, turning to Elizabeth, took her hand in his and brought it nearly to his lips. “It has been most enchanting, Miss Bennet.”

  Darcy glared at his back as he realised he had never hated the man more. Elizabeth visibly relaxed at his exit.

  “Are you well, Lizzy?” Mrs. Gardiner asked. “You seem flushed.”

  “Perhaps some fresh air,” Darcy suggested. “I would be pleased to escort you.”

  Mr. Gardiner gave his assent, and Darcy beamed with pride to have Elizabeth at his side as he walked the streets of Lambton. He had expected her to take his arm, however. All thought of what he might say to her had vanished when he saw George in the room. Now, everything he wished to speak could not be said so openly. They reached the edges of the town and Elizabeth ceased her movement. Tilting her head, she stared up at him with a defiant look.

  “Explain yourself, sir!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I tire of the fluctuations in your character and demeanor,” she said, as she rubbed her temples. “You are kind, warm, and generous in one moment and in the next, you are cold and spiteful. You accuse a man of killing your sister, and yet I must surmise there is no evidence, for he walks free.”

  “Do you not see the common reasons for my coldness? My sister is dead, and it is because of him,” he spat the final words. He thought Elizabeth understood.

  “No, I do not see any reason. I do not know the circumstances of her death,” she added in a more subdued tone. “However, I think I know enough of your character that if she had truly died at Mr. George Wickham’s hands, then you would not rest until justice was served.”

  Darcy gently took Elizabeth by the elbow and led her further down the path. If it were warmer, he would find a hidden tree for them to sit under. He would hold her in his arms as he spoke the painful truth. However, he did not wish for her to catch a chill. Walking would have to suffice.

  “You already know that George Wickham has been connected to my family since his birth. I explained that my father sent him to school. He was very fond of George. At the time, it seemed, to me, he took greater joy in the steward’s son than in me. I now realise my father was harsher on me because he was my parent, and I would one day bear great responsibility. However, what it meant was that neither one of us were much at ease with the other.”

  Elizabeth nodded but remained silent. Darcy was sure this was not the information she wished to know. “My sister had a sensitive and tender heart. Although I soon broke contact with George after my father’s death, she retained only happy memories of him. Too grieved to explain the matter to her—as indelicate as it would be for a lady’s ears—I did not wish to make her think poorly of our father. She never knew of George’s perfidy. After she finished her schooling, she requ
ested to go to Ramsgate with her governess. She was to meet two or three other friends there. I was busy with estate business and could not chaperone her the entire time. However, her friends did not come or did not stay as long as she had expected, I gather, because soon the only acquaintance she had in the area was George. He appeared by design. I discovered later that he had previous knowledge of the governess. He convinced Georgiana that they were in love and to consent to an elopement.”

  Elizabeth gasped.

  “You did not think your sister was the only one to think herself run away with love, did you?” He took her small hands in his and squeezed them. “When they returned from Scotland, they visited Pemberley. George did not have sufficient income to keep his wife. There was not adequate space in the house in Lambton, and they had both thought better of their elopement. He thought it would be better to have my sister remain at Pemberley while he worked to secure better arrangements. They would then marry in the church as an elopement would upset Mr. Wickham.”

  Darcy sighed as the old pain emerged. He welcomed it compared to the months of nothingness he had felt. “I agreed to the suggestion. I hoped I could convince Georgiana to not continue with the marriage plans. A Gretna Green marriage could be argued as invalid or illegal. She was underage, and in England, it never would have happened. I never would have consented. However, even a Gretna Green marriage is not so easily undone when the couple lives as man and wife.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes filled with tears. She could guess what came next.

  “My sister was soon with child. She felt no remorse at their secret marriage. She was filled only with the joy which I imagine most new mothers feel. She loved that baby, and she loved her George. I chose not to argue; I did not want to risk her health. Plans for a church wedding were halted. They would simply present the marriage as a fait accompli.”

  “But she continued living at Pemberley?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Yes. We thought it best until George could procure better lodgings.”

  “Was there nothing you could do for them? What about the living he had been intended for?”

  “It was given to another shortly after he rescinded all claim to the post. As he became a solicitor there was only so much in my sphere of influence I could do.”

  “But you said he killed your sister! He did nothing more than any other husband. You could find yourself in such a position one day.”

  As Elizabeth said the words, it felt as though she punched him in the gut. Would he one day see her as lifeless as his sister? The thought tore at his heart. Would he give up whatever claim it was she had on him to prevent such an occurrence? Only celibacy and spinsterhood could entirely prevent such a possibility. He could hardly fathom her leaving to return to Hertfordshire, let alone never marrying—or far worse, marrying anyone but him.

  “Who can I blame, Elizabeth? Who is to blame but George?”

  “I do not know,” Elizabeth said with tears streaming down her cheeks. “It is a circumstance of life—an accident. No one is to blame.”

  “Then why do you grieve for your sister so?”

  “If I had given her more attention. If I had not teased her. Perhaps she would not have desired to marry so young. Perhaps she would not have longed to prove herself. She would not have eloped. She would not have died. I can only blame myself.”

  Darcy could not stand the sight of Elizabeth sobbing and shivering. He pulled her into his embrace. He held her close and rested his head atop of hers. Soon, both of their tears mingled on his coat.

  “I cannot blame her,” Darcy said. “She was too young. Of course, she thought she was in love.” He gripped her tighter. “I can only blame myself. It is my fault. She wished to leave me. I withheld her dowry. If I had given them her money, they would have had different living situations.”

  Elizabeth drew back then. “You denied them her portion?”

  “I was convinced it was all George wanted. Thirty thousand pounds is a substantial sum.”

  “Why, that would be nearly as much as my father’s income! They could have leased a large house. Far better than living above a solicitor’s shop.”

  “It would have still been nothing to Pemberley. It is not as though I made her live in some shack, exposed to the elements.”

  “You ought to have given them the money,” Elizabeth insisted. “You broke her heart.” She dropped her head and whispered something.

  Elizabeth turned to walk away, and Darcy did not follow after her. Her final words echoed in his mind, but instead of seeing that he had broken Georgiana’s heart, all he could think about was those final, whispering words. He had broken her heart.

  Chapter Five

  Elizabeth returned to the inn and pleaded a headache when her aunt and uncle asked why Mr. Darcy did not join her. She did not lie. This time, however, her tears and the subsequent pain in her head was not because of him as much as what she had said and felt.

  She had badgered Mr. Darcy and forced him to confess everything to her, but she barely gave him a moment to breathe. Did she not feel anger at the man who seduced her sister and brought about her death? She might have blamed herself for setting Lydia off, but in her heart of hearts, Elizabeth knew that Lydia had always been flighty. She had remained unchecked by her parents. Eloping while on holiday was perhaps a natural consequence.

  She had never voiced her concern to anyone save Darcy, and no one had ever laid it at her feet. He had understood in a way that only someone who also blamed themselves could. How could she say something so cruel and thoughtless to him? He had offered the one thing she had searched for her whole life—someone to understand her. And she used that against him.

  It did not sound as though Georgiana or George had asked for her dowry. If they had married in a church, Darcy would have been bound by law to give the money. As a solicitor, George would know that more than herself. Why would they not request Georgiana’s income? Elizabeth fell asleep determined to find out more from George on the morrow.

  The following day, she coerced her relatives to walk with her and visit the Wickhams. Once they were duly engrossed in conversation with the older man, she turned her attention to George.

  “I am sorry Mr. Darcy arrived during your call. You seemed most uncomfortable to have him present. I suppose it must be many years since you have last seen him, despite your close proximity.”

  George sighed. “Yes.” He took a sip of his tea then shook his head. “No. With you, I must always be truthful.” He searched her eyes. “Something about you compels me to explain my woes, Miss Bennet.”

  Elizabeth steeled herself to be as attentive as she ever could be. She hoped he would reveal the information she desired without requiring her to ask leading questions. “I can hardly credit that,” she said.

  “It is quite true. It is though you have bewitched me and I can deny you nothing.”

  Elizabeth thought he was being charming, but then he dropped his eyes.

  “I had not thought to feel that again. I had not expected to fall under the spell of another woman. Although, I feel friendship for you whereas it was so much more for my love.”

  “I am sorry to hear you have suffered at the hands of another. Do you now mean to tell me a story of a woman’s inconstancy?”

  “No,” George whispered. “No, my wife was loyal and devoted. I never wondered about her fidelity or love for me.”

  “You must have been fortunate, indeed.” She glanced around the room. “Pardon me for saying, I mean no offense, but perhaps she would have felt differently had she met with richer men.”

  “I can see how you might think that. To be sure, I have very little to offer any lady. However, my wife came from one of the wealthiest families of the land. She was willing to forsake them all for me.”

  “Did she not have a significant dowry?”

  “I would not petition for it. I could not put Darcy through that from me again. I desired him to respect me as a brother. I had mistreated him in our youth; I had been
vain and callous.” George shook his head. “He could not trust me.”

  Elizabeth tried to look astonished. “Mr. Darcy!” she whispered.

  George glanced at the others before returning his gaze to Elizabeth. “I made it clear to Georgiana we may never have her income to live on. I wanted to prove my worth to Darcy on my own merit.”

  Elizabeth sucked in a breath. Could these two men had been so blind to one another? “That was very brave of both of you. She did not mind living here?”

  George looked a bit ashamed of himself but shook his head. “We had eloped, but by the time we returned to Pemberley, we had decided we wished for a church ceremony instead. I thought it would grieve my father too much—he had been so devoted to Mr. Darcy. There was no concealing it from her brother, however. She died before we could arrange matters.”

  “I am very sorry to hear it,” Elizabeth said. “I have only lost a sister. I cannot imagine the grief of losing a spouse.” Although, she acknowledged, she might have lost her chance with Mr. Darcy.

  George gave her a sad smile. “I loved her so much—my whole life it seems. Although hardly in that way the entire time. However, she would not have wished me to be melancholy. Christmas was her favorite time of year.”

  “Have you spoken with Mr. Darcy about it? You must both miss her terribly.”

  “He never believed that I loved her. I wish the babe had lived so I had something left of her.” An anguished sob tore from his throat which he quickly covered with a cough. “Pardon me, the winter weather, I fear.”

  “Yes, let us think of other things,” Elizabeth said with forced cheerfulness. “Have you drawn up a guest list for the ball?”

  “I began last night,” George grinned, then stood to find the paper.

  For the remainder of the visit, they talked about plans for the ball. Elizabeth was pleased she did not need to think too much. Her mind was occupied with the confessions of each gentleman. If Darcy could learn to see past the errors of George’s youth, and if George could see past Darcy’s anger, they could find common ground and friendship.