by Maria Grace
“No, there has not. I had not anticipated how much time I would be spending playing chaperone to so many young ladies.” She laid her head in the hollow of his shoulder. How warm and right and restful it was.
“We seem to be making a habit of uninvited guests at Christmastide.”
“I hope that twice does not make a habit. But then again …” She winked up at him.
“Next year I shall have the door knocker taken down on the first of December.”
“If I did not know you better—”
“Just wait and see. I am not joking.” So somber and serious he tried to be, but his eyes twinkled just a bit.
“Well, I doubt Anne will be with us again next year, I expect she will be married ‘ere long.”
Darcy sat up a little straighter and peered at her, merriment lost from his expression.
“Have you not noticed how it seems she has brought all her powers of pleasing to bear upon Sir Jasper in the last few days? She was just this side of improper last night, and earlier today in the morning room—”
He dragged his hand down his face. “Pray tell me, Georgiana is not going to do this same thing—fill our home with suitors none of whom we particularly approve.”
“Georgiana is hardly Anne. I do not detect that she is in any hurry to leave her paternal home. Moreover, her scare with … ah … him … seems to have made a genuine impact on her. She dearly wants your approval, so I doubt she would consider anyone you disliked.”
“I fear you are right. Anne has no respect for her mother. I wish it were not so, but it is not difficult to understand. At least it seems she listened to Fitzwilliam’s dislike of the other two would-be suitors.”
“For that I am glad. As it is, I fear I may have to step in and curb her behavior. I think the parlor games are getting a bit too exuberant. Sir Jasper does not seem to object, though. He never leaves off an opportunity to partner with her in the drawing room.” She rubbed her knuckle against her lips.
“A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment.”
“You sir, are impossible. As I recall, it was you whose mind jumped rapidly from admiration to love, not mine.”
He silenced her with a kiss. Several.
A little time alone was indeed a very good thing.
That afternoon, the house party busied themselves tying red ribbon bows on their evergreens and decorating the public rooms with them. Elizabeth restrained Mrs. Reynolds from correcting the over-eager decorators. Best correct—or rather improve—their efforts whilst they were not in the middle of their fun. Mrs. Reynolds did have to clear them out of the large parlor, though, to make way for the farmers who brought in the Yule log for the fireplace—nothing could disturb those efforts. How Darcy loved presiding over Pemberley’s Yule log tradition.
After dinner, the house party retired to the parlor and gathered around the fireplace. Darcy anointed the log with oil, wine and salt, then he and Fitzwilliam lit the Yule log together, just as they had last year. Soon the warm, raspy smell of wood smoke laced the room.
Elizabeth enjoined everyone to hold hands in a circle. She took Darcy’s hand. Interesting, Anne stood between Fitzwilliam and Sir Jasper, holding Fitzwilliam’s hand quite comfortably, but barely touching fingers with Sir Jasper. Between Darcy and Georgiana, Lady Catherine barely pressed the backs of her hands to theirs.
Darcy cleared his throat. “Let us take a moment and consider the year past. Our faults, mistakes and bad choices. Let us allow the flames to consume those that we may begin the coming year with a clean slate. With that as our starting place, let us purpose to learn from what we release and improve our faults, correct our mistakes and make improved choices.”
He squeezed her hand hard. They lingered a moment longer then released the circle. Lady Catherine retreated to a chair in the corner, continuing her habit of silent sulking after dinner. But since it was silent, how could anyone really object?
Mrs. Reynolds led in several maids bearing trays of cider, apples for roasting, bread and cheese for toasting. Fitzwilliam took charge of tying strings to the apples and hanging them off the nails in the fireplace to roast. He gave the bread and the cheese over to Mr. Sadler, whose figure hinted he might have some expertise in toasting them.
The warm, welcoming smells of treats prepared over the flames of the Yule Log permeated the parlor, the smells of winter and family. Darcy handed Elizabeth a mug of cider and offered her a seat near his, toward the back of the room. Away from the fire, it was a bit cooler, but it did provide a lovely vantage point to watch the young—and not quite as young people—enjoy themselves.
When had she stopped thinking of herself as a young person?
“How about a game of Hot Cockles?” Mr. Sadler called, moving a wooden chair into the center of the room.
Elizabeth drew breath to protest, but Anne cut her off. “I love a game of Hot Cockles!” She flounced to the chair and sat down. The remainder of the party formed a loose circle around her.
“Then I will take my turn at guessing first.” Fitzwilliam followed her closely.
She huffed and frowned, eyes on Sir Jasper. “Very well. I do so hope you are a good guesser, though.”
Fitzwilliam winked at her, but she glared in return. He knelt in front of her, tied on the blindfold, and placed his head in her lap.
Miss Gifford giggled, but Georgiana looked vaguely annoyed.
Anne pointed at Miss Gifford who stomped toward the center of the room, tapped Fitzwilliam’s shoulder and ran back to her place with the same heavy footfalls.
Fitzwilliam turned to face the group. “The only one with steps so heavy is Wharton.”
Wharton laughed a little too hard, pointing at his still tender ankle. “T’was not me.”
“I guess I must pay a forfeit and try again.” Fitzwilliam returned his face to Anne’s lap.
Mr. Sadler tip-toed up and tapped Fitzwilliam’s shoulder, looking much like a Gillray caricature.
“Was that Miss Gifford’s lightness of step?”
“Hardly,” Sadler laughed. “What happened to your vaulted powers of observation?”
“He has lost them in the presence of so many lovely ladies.” Sir Jasper winked at Anne. “You have had your turn, let another try.” He strode up to Fitzwilliam and held his hand out for the blindfold.
Fitzwilliam handed it over, but did not appear too pleased about it. His jaw clenched as Sir Jasper placed his head in Anne’s lap.
Darcy leaned into Elizabeth’s ear. “Is there something we may do to stop this? He is far too close to her.”
She bit her lip. “It will be easier if you would play something with us.”
He sighed. “Very well.”
Perhaps something a bit more sedate would suit them all. She slipped away and retrieved a large wooden platter from the cabinet where the board games were kept.
“Was it you who tapped me, Miss Darcy?” Sir Jasper asked, untying his blindfold.
“Yes, sir, it was.”
“You see, that is how this game is played.” He waved the blindfold at Fitzwilliam.
Elizabeth took Darcy’s hand and moved toward the center of the room. “I have another game! Twirling the Trencher.”
“I do not know that game.” Miss Gifford moved aside for Elizabeth to take the center of the circle.
“We stand in a circle with one in the middle to spin the trencher. Like so.” Elizabeth spun the plate that cast dancing shadows in the firelight. “While the plate spins you call out a name and that person must catch the plate before it stops twirling. Whoever lets the plate fall must pay a forfeit.” She spun the plate again. “Darcy!”
He jumped and hurried to catch the plate and spin it again. “Georgiana!”
She ran to the center. “Fitzwilliam.”
He sauntered to the middle and caught the plate just before it rattled to the floor. “Anne.”
“Sir Jasper!”
He stumbled ov
er the edge of the carpet and nearly fell trying to get to the plate, but caught it just in time. “It seems I am not nearly so nimble footed as you, Colonel Fitzwilliam.” He saluted, but it seemed more mocking than friendly. “Perhaps we might take a short break to enjoy those sweet-smelling apples.”
The men brought a low table into the center of the room, with cider and small plates. Fitzwilliam supervised serving, though Anne refused her portion. He beckoned her away from the rest, to a dark corner of the room, near the game cabinet.
Elizabeth edged a few steps back, closed her eyes and concentrated. Yes, they were just loud enough to hear. Eavesdropping was certainly impolite, but sometimes was absolutely necessary.
“Why are you so disagreeable tonight?” Fitzwilliam asked.
“I could ask the same of you.”
“What have I done to make you think I am disagreeable?” He sounded a little like Darcy exasperated.
“You have been interfering with Sir Jasper and me all night! Tripping him as you did was a particularly low maneuver.” Did Anne just stomp?
“I did no such thing. It is not my fault if he is clumsy.”
“It seems you are trying to keep me apart from him tonight.”
Fitzwilliam huffed, long and low. “There are some concerns.”
“Concerns? What concerns? You told me—I asked you specifically, and you said it was all right.” Her voice tightened, high and shrill. “You have been talking with Mother.”
“What do you mean? You know—”
“You are not as clever as you think. He has already told me. He thinks she might hold his pedigree against him, but it is all stuff and nonsense. I would have thought you better able to see through her blather.”
“This is not about that.”
“So, it matters not to you that he is a de Bourgh?” She sniffed and her skirts swished. She was probably turning her back on him.
“I could not care less what his name is. You ought to know better than to expect me to side with her on something so petty.”
“Do I? It seems awfully convenient that you have suddenly started agreeing with Mother that none of my suitors is suitable.”
“While I grant it has never happened before, chance alone dictates that we will agree at one time or another. And, if you would have bothered to listen, you would realize that I have said nothing against Sir Jasper, only recommended caution at this point. Darcy is uncertain—”
She whirled, most likely facing him with her mother’s angry glare. “Darcy? Now you use Darcy against me? How could you? It is his fault I am in this situation in the first place. How could you take his side?”
“I have taken no side but yours.”
“Really? I can hardly see how you have taken my side. I thought you were my friend. I trusted you. But now I can see I have been keenly mistaken. You care nothing for me at all.”
“Be fair, Anne. Just because I am not anxious to let you have your way does not mean I am against you.” Fitzwilliam’s voice shifted just a bit, as though he were really touched by her accusations.
“It means so for everyone else. Why should it be different with you? Truly, I do not want to see you right now, and I may never speak to you again.” Anne stomped and dashed from the room.
Elizabeth opened her eyes, trying not to stare.
Fitzwilliam watched her go, fists balled and teeth clenched. He was angry, no doubt, but his eyes—they suggested something more than just that. Darcy wore that expression when he was deeply hurt.
Did Anne have any idea she had just wounded her greatest ally? Would she even care if she did?
∞∞∞
December 25, 1813
Christmas Day began with holy services, as was their custom, but Darcy led them home soon after. Mrs. Reynolds was an excellent woman, but still, Elizabeth insisted that she needed to oversee the remaining preparations herself. After Christmas plans had to be cancelled last year, nothing must go wrong this year.
Despite all efforts, nothing Darcy said could convince her otherwise. But really, she was no more fretful than his mother had been over such events, so he bit his tongue and left her to see the remaining few details in order. Still though, was it normal for a woman to be so concerned over such things? Fitzwilliam would have him convinced he was inventing things to worry over, but he was not so certain.
Later that evening, music greeted them at the doorway of the drawing room. Georgiana and Anne were playing a duet. Extra candles and mirrors filled the room with gaiety and light; the smells of the fresh evergreen boughs might have something to do with that as well. He relinquished Elizabeth to her duties as hostess and retired to his favorite chair until he would be pressed into a similar service.
How different this was to other Christmas dinners. The one Caroline Bingley had hosted had probably been no less well planned, but everything about it was prickly and uncomfortable, like a coat that did not fit across the shoulders. Pull and tug and adjust as one might, nothing made it feel comfortable. That evening could not have ended soon enough.
Though perhaps, not his first choice in activities, tonight was no major burden on him, and he even anticipated some pleasure in it. Why was tonight so very different from the other?
Surely, Elizabeth had something to do with it. Her presence and social acumen gave him peace amidst so many people in his domain. That was another difference. Pemberley was his domain. To be in his own territory and know he was safe from the gossip-writers and others who would seek to intrude upon his privacy; that made a substantial impact, too.
His guests here were known to him, and if not friends, at least on friendly, neighborly terms. On the whole, they looked out for one another’s interests. Not like the crowds in London who barely knew with whom their elbows rubbed. Yes, that was another material difference.
Perhaps he had dreaded entertaining at Pemberley more than he should have. Elizabeth would enjoy hearing that.
Fitzwilliam sauntered in and sat near Darcy. “It is a pleasure to hear the two of them play together. They do it very well, I think.”
“Considering it was not until just a few weeks ago that anyone even knew she played, I would say it is utterly remarkable. I would not have thought her and Georgiana to be able to get along so well, either. My first concern was that they would have nothing to say to each other, both being so quiet, and then that Anne would utterly overpower her when I discovered she was not what we thought.”
“What you thought, Darce, I have known better for quite some time. Now that she has come under better regulation, it is a pleasure to actually see her living for once, not cowering in her mother’s shadow.”
“You think the time here has done her good?”
“Very much so. Your ladies here have been very kind to her, something Anne has not known a great deal of. I do not know this, for Anne has not actually said, but I heard Georgiana suggest that perhaps, just amongst themselves—Georgiana, Elizabeth and Anne—they might treat this night as Anne’s come out, so she would have a night she could mark in her own mind as hers.”
“Elizabeth has agreed to this?” Darcy ran his knuckles along the edge of his jaw.
“I am not sure there was anything actually official to agree to. But yes, I believe that Elizabeth found the idea pleasing. Knowing her, she probably instigated the notion and allowed Georgiana to consider it hers. I recall her saying all young ladies should have a special come out.”
“She never breathed a word of it to me.”
Fitzwilliam shrugged and avoided eye contact.
“What I wonder, is how it is you manage to be privy to such conversations? One might suppose—”
“Look, Elizabeth approaches! And with some very appealing company.” Fitzwilliam rose. Though he turned his face aside, there was a decidedly guilty look in his eyes.
Two young ladies followed Elizabeth; the daughter of a local knight, Miss Susannah Camelford, and the daughter of a major silk mill owner, Miss Lora Audeley. Both were attractive girls i
n their second—or was it third season out? Neither was considered near to being on the shelf, but it was notable that they were yet unmarried. Their dowries were just sufficient to catch a titled man, and their mothers had high aspirations for them both. How much matchmaking was afoot here?
“Fitzwilliam.” Elizabeth extended her hands toward him. “May I introduce you to some of our friends?”
He took a long, appreciative look at Elizabeth’s charges. “I would be very happy to make their acquaintance.”
The girls giggled—was that a requirement of being a young lady in these times—to giggle at the attention of a single gentleman?
“May I present Miss Camelford of Langhey Green and Miss Audeley.” The girls curtsied in the accepted fashion. “The neighborhood gossip has got around. I fear you might have to disabuse them of quite a number of notions.”
“Indeed? Might I inquire of what I have been accused?” He pressed his hand to his chest and feigned a look of innocence.
“We were told of your heroism in battle in France,” Miss Camelford said. Thankfully, she did not bat her eyes.
“I can hardly claim that to be falsehood.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a half-grin.
“I have been told you were a crack shot, but have not a taste for venison, so you assume poor skill to avoid having it on your table.” Miss Audeley cocked her head and lifted an eyebrow.
Darcy snickered.
“That is far from the most intriguing gossip that has ever got around. But perhaps I should disabuse you of a few of these ideas. Pray excuse us.” He tipped his head toward Elizabeth, and led the young ladies toward the center of the room.
Elizabeth stepped a little closer. “I can tell your thoughts by the look in your eye. You do not have to ask. He inquired if there were any suitable young ladies in attendance tonight and requested I make introductions.”
“I hardly suspected anything else.”
“You are far more obvious than you realize.”
“Yet you are very patient with me, and with my family, who it seems are more apt to talk with you than with me.”
She pressed her shoulder to his. “Yes, I am, my dear, and yes they are; you would not have it any other way. I am quite certain the prattle of young ladies—and those not so young—would drive you to distraction very quickly. Will you call our guests to dinner?”