Mr Darcy's Miracle at Longbourn

by Rose Fairbanks

  “I say let her come,” Richard declared. “If there are any visitors whose acquaintance you would prefer her not to have, better it happens at the Bennets’ than on the streets of Meryton.”

  Georgiana fixed pleading eyes on her brother as he remained silent and deliberating for several minutes. Finally, he faintly nodded his head in assent.

  “Thank you!” Georgiana squealed and dashed out of the room before anything else could be said.

  A few moments later they were climbing back in the carriage.

  “It’s a shame we did not walk,” Richard said.

  “It is three miles,” Darcy said. “Much too far for Georgiana.”

  “But not for Miss Elizabeth,” Bingley said and winked at Georgiana.

  She turned her face to hide her smile. Her brother had quite a lot to say about that particular day in his letter. Out the window, she saw a field of sheep and the familiar outline of a shepherd or two. She had thought her brother too unjust about Meryton, but the fact that it was similar to other parts of England had its comforts. She knew Fitzwilliam felt more at home at Pemberley and visiting the nearby market towns than he did in London, despite his protestations earlier.

  “There!” Bingley pointed out the carriage window, and Richard pushed aside a curtain. “Longbourn is to the west about where that star is.”

  A chill ran up Georgiana’s spine, and she had the strangest feeling she had heard such words before.

  Fitzwilliam tugged on his cravat. “When Mrs. Bennet invited us to dinner, I do not think she meant to arrive unexpectedly a month after the invitation was issued. Christmas is in two days; they likely have family visiting! Additionally, they have likely dined by now.”

  “As if she will mind,” Richard said. “You and Bingley are as good as lords. Kings even, to her, I bet!”

  Bingley consulted his watch. “It is nearly seven. If that is too late for dinner, then they will probably be having coffee and ask us to stay for supper.”

  The coach pulled up at the house, and Georgiana’s heart sped up as she saw several people peer out the window at the unexpected carriage. Many of them wore red militia coats. She steeled her nerves to meet George Wickham face to face. She would not allow another girl’s heart to be broken or, worse, be confined to marriage with him. She would shout his true nature from the rooftops, on mountains, over hills, everywhere.

  Fitzwilliam handed her down and placed her hand on his arm. She could feel how tense he was.

  “I wish you had not pushed for this,” he whispered to her, “but Richard and I will be here for you.”

  Georgiana gently squeezed his arm. Would any other brother be so good to her? She had nearly brought ruin to the family. If she had married Wickham, she would have deserved every bit of unhappiness marriage to him would bring, and yet Georgiana did not doubt Fitzwilliam would have risked life and limb to rescue her from such a fate.

  They entered the drawing room, and she was introduced to the Bennet family, Mrs. Bennet’s brother and sister-in-law, several officers...and inevitably her eyes landed on Wickham. He had the nerve to act pleased to see her and Fitzwilliam. He greeted them with a smile and not even a blush. Beside him, Miss Elizabeth Bennet noticed the interaction. Miss Elizabeth seemed to pay acute attention to her, but Georgiana knew Wickham would never say anything of the truth, at least not about his dealings with her.

  “Georgie, would you like to sit here?” Fitzwilliam motioned to a chair near Mr. Bingley and a very flushed, nervous-looking eldest Miss Bennet.

  “No, thank you,” she said firmly and turned towards Wickham and Miss Elizabeth. “Would you mind if I watched the game you were playing?”

  “Oh, I think we were finished,” Mr. Wickham said. His eyes darted around the room looking for a quick escape.

  “Indeed, we had found it pleasanter to play with another partner. Won’t you join us?” Miss Elizabeth said with a smile before leading the way to the table.

  Wickham just barely lifted the edges of his mouth and turned to follow. Georgiana commanded herself to be calm as she joined them. She saw Richard joining a table with Miss Lucas and Mary Bennet. Miss Lucas seemed to have captured his attention while Mary appeared not to care about the game. When they thought the other did not look, Mary and Richard snuck glances at each other. A moment later, Georgiana heard footsteps behind her and knew they were Fitzwilliam’s.

  “Darcy!” Wickham said and occupied himself with shuffling.

  “How surprised we are to see you again, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Elizabeth said with an accusatory look in her eyes. “I notice Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst did not join the group. Are they well?”

  Georgiana replied before her brother could ruin things. “They preferred to remain in London, and I desired to come to Hertfordshire. I do hate parting with my brother.”

  “Yes, it was explained to me what a doting brother he is,” Miss Elizabeth said.

  “I do not know that it is fair for siblings as close as you two to be on a team,” Wickham said. “Miss Darcy, will you do me the favour of joining my team?”

  “Wickham,” Fitzwilliam growled.

  Georgiana placed a hand on her brother’s arm. “Certainly, Mr. Wickham. We have much to discuss since the last time we met.” She extended her hand. “If you please, I will deal.”

  As she handed out the cards, she could see each person at the table assessing the other. The wheels turned furiously in Wickham’s brain, but Georgiana knew that her boldness was so unexpected that none of his usual charming manoeuvres would work.

  “Do you know Mr. Wickham well, Miss Darcy?” Elizabeth asked as she arranged her cards. “I was under the impression that Mr. Darcy had not seen much of Mr. Wickham in many years.”

  “Oh, Mr. Wickham and I met again last summer and had quite an acquaintance.”

  “Indeed?” Elizabeth said and frowned as Fitzwilliam threw down the wrong card.

  “Do not worry about my former maid,” Georgiana said in a fake whisper to Mr. Wickham. “She and the babe are well.”

  Immediately, Wickham turned red, Fitzwilliam choked on his glass of wine, and Miss Elizabeth’s eyebrows shot to her hairline.

  “She had a message for me to deliver to you, if you would be so kind as to read it later,” Georgiana said with a wink to Wickham.

  “I cannot imagine what she would be saying to me,” he said and took a gulp of wine.

  “Oh, I would never presume to know what lovers—or former lovers—would say to one another. After all, our acquaintance was never so genuine as that, was it?”

  Miss Elizabeth nervously bit her lower lip. “I think I had better see if Mama needs any assistance—”

  “No, do not trouble yourself, Miss Elizabeth,” Fitzwilliam said. “Georgiana, cease this. You have proved to me that you can meet with him without alarm, but now you only make matters conspicuous.”

  “What do I care if others take notice?” Georgiana said while lifting her chin. “Others should take notice!”

  Around them, she heard the whispers of others who seemed focused on their tables.

  “It is growing late. I think I should leave,” Wickham said and stood.

  “What? Do you not have charming words for the predicament you are in?” Fitzwilliam said.

  “What predicament is he in?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Fitzwilliam, they cannot be left unawares,” Georgiana said even as she looked at her hands and blushed.

  Her brother squeezed her hands and stood. “You are correct. Wickham, I will see you out, and then I believe I should have a private conversation with Mr. Bennet. One that will be repeated with other fathers in the area after the holiday.”

  By now, Wickham was walking to the door. He did not take care to say goodbye to Mrs. Bennet or anyone else, and several people called after him.

  “Miss Darcy, will you please explain to me what is going on?” Miss Elizabeth asked in a worried tone.

  “Certainly, but somewhere private is best,” she suggested.
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  “Follow me.” Miss Elizabeth stood.

  As Georgiana did likewise, she suddenly had to grip the table for support. A loud ringing sounded in her ears. The clock in the room chimed, but this was as though bells were swinging in her head. Growing dizzy, she felt herself falling sidewise as the world turned white.

  Silent Night

  Netherfield

  December 23, 1811

  Darcy heard screams of agony and pounded up the stairs. He flung open the door to the mistress’s chamber. Some maids fussed at him and told him a birthing room was no place for a man, but he gave them his best Master of Pemberley glare and silenced them.

  Stepping forward into the room, things were suddenly calm as though after a violent storm. By the same pull she had always had on him, Darcy came to Elizabeth’s side. She had a soft bundle nursing at her breast. She looked exhausted but beamed at him.

  “He’s perfect, Fitzwilliam,” she said.

  Darcy leaned down and gave her a gentle kiss. “You’re perfect.” He trailed a finger softly over his child’s cheek. He eased down on the bed, careful not to jostle the precious cargo.

  “I love you,” Elizabeth said as she leaned her head on his shoulder.

  “I love—”

  Darcy’s eyes flew open. Dreams of Elizabeth Bennet were no longer rare, and each time he always woke just before declaring his love. It was as though even his dream-self knew better than to utter the words. Netherfield was silent and still; it felt like early morning before even the servants arose.

  Throwing on his dressing gown, Darcy shuffled to the fire and stoked it. He sank into a nearby chair. He could not keep going on like this. He had not slept well in weeks. Dreams now tortured him. In London, thoughts of what might have been for him and Elizabeth haunted him. Now that he foolishly returned to Netherfield, he knew it would only be worse.

  When precisely did he return to Netherfield? He had a strange feeling that he had been here for many days. However, that could not be the case. His mind was being tested from lack of sleep.

  As he dozed in the chair awaiting a decent hour to begin the day, images danced through his mind. Elizabeth looking grave and fearful, saying Mr. Collins was dead. Why had she looked so upset? Next, they were walking in Longbourn’s garden, and she spoke to him in angry whispers. Another image, so like a memory, flashed of Georgiana resting in the drawing room of Longbourn. Elizabeth fluttered around her, concern marring her face. A scene of Elizabeth playing cards with Wickham while Georgiana revealed the truth of the cad’s behaviour to Elizabeth. Her shock was palpable.

  Darcy’s consciousness tried to reach out and grasp the wisps of images that swirled around him. Each had felt real, as though he had been there instead of in the mere fantasies to which he was accustomed. What cruel trick was his mind now playing on him?

  “Mr. Darcy,” a voice said from next to him, and he startled awake.

  His eyes fluttered as he took in the scene. He was in Longbourn’s drawing room, and Miss Mary Bennet had just finished performing. She blushed as Richard praised her talent. Beside Darcy, Mr. Bennet looked a mixture of amused and offended. Darcy’s befuddled mind could not make sense of his surroundings. Was he dreaming now? Or had he just awoken? What was real, and what was false?

  Elizabeth approached the bench. When he had first heard her perform, he acknowledged that she had no great skill. However, she held the audience captive by her unaffected voice and the lightness of the tunes she played. Her smiles and a saucy sway of her head added to the festive feeling of the evening. Several of the male guests were enamoured of the performance, Darcy noticed with chagrin. His cousin, Richard, turned pages for her.

  Darcy hardly knew if he was reliving a dream or hallucinating, but Elizabeth’s voice filled his heart with joy. She sounded positively angelic. Logically, he understood her skill could not have improved so much in a few weeks. For the first time, he consciously admitted to himself that he loved her. Love for the woman made the sound of her voice sweeter, the smile on her face brighter, and every other thing about her more beautiful.

  Why was he being such a fool? He had returned to Hertfordshire at his cousin’s and Bingley’s goading. Elizabeth could take her pick of admirers. Would he wait and see if the dreams of their possible future would become nothing more than ashes of regret? What business did echoes of family duty have in the face of such an angel?

  For just a moment, it seemed her smile fixed on him and knocked the air out of his lungs. She beamed, and radiance filled her complexion. Darcy found himself sitting a little taller in his chair. Yes, he was firming his resolve. He would put aside his pride. He would not even mention his reservations. She deserved all his love.

  Her song ended, and behind him, a well-dressed man leaned forward and spoke to Mr. Bennet. “Bennet, she’s an angel!”

  “I’ve always thought so, Gardiner,” Mr. Bennet said, chuckling. “Do you think so of all your nieces?”

  Darcy’s interest rose. The cultured tones of the first man shocked him. This must be Mrs. Bennet’s brother, the one who resided in London and worked in trade. There was nothing vulgar about him! How had Miss Bingley misled him?

  Turning a bit in his seat, Darcy addressed the gentlemen. “I do not believe I have the pleasure of your acquaintance. Could you introduce us, Mr. Bennet?”

  Darcy hardly knew of the three of them who was the most surprised. Just as Bennet explained the man’s name and relationship to him, the clock struck seven, and a white light seized Darcy’s field of vision.

  He struggled to retain consciousness. Wondering if this was death, he focused on the memories, on the feelings that had passed. His resolve to court Elizabeth. He had a reason to live! He must fight it; he must! The vice around his head squeezed harder, and the pressure became too much to bear. Bells clanged in his ears, and then utter peace.

  The Holly and the Ivy

  Near Longbourn

  December 23, 1811

  Elizabeth hummed a tune as she carried a basket through the woods. She had to escape her mother and Longbourn under the guise of needing more holly and ivy for decorations. Her aunt and uncle had arrived to spend Christmas with the family, and Mrs. Bennet had not ceased her abuse of Elizabeth.

  “As if it were a crime to decline an unwanted marriage proposal,” she muttered under her breath.

  In the distance, she heard a rustle and cast her eyes about to see a deer bolting from a thicket of holly. Elizabeth smiled as she paused and snipped some ivy that climbed up a tree. Recalling childhood exploits with Jane, she fashioned a ringlet and wore it as a crown. Of course, they were children then, and now life was far more complicated. To keep from melancholy thoughts, she resumed her cheerful humming.

  “Blast!” she heard a masculine voice swear as she came closer to the holly thicket.

  “Good day,” she called so as not to alarm whoever the gentleman was.

  “Miss Elizabeth?” A familiar, and disliked, face matched the voice as Mr. Darcy straightened and appeared over the hedge.

  Her anger was disarmed when she saw a handkerchief wrapped around one hand. “Having a battle, are we?”

  Mr. Darcy’s eyes widened for a moment. “Oh, this?” He held up his wounded hand. “My sister declared more holly was required for Netherfield but did not desire to trouble the servants.”

  Elizabeth could hardly believe her ears. Mr. Darcy would humble himself so much to attempt to gather holly, and ill-prepared at that, just for his sister? “Allow me,” she said and donned her pruning gloves, then handled the shears with expert technique.

  “Mr. Bingley would praise you for another accomplishment,” he said as she filled his basket.

  He winced as though he was aware of how awkward his words sounded. Yet another thing Elizabeth could not credit the man before her.

  “I think you have me at a disadvantage, Mr. Darcy,” she said. “I am all astonishment to find you in a wood in Hertfordshire, for we had heard Mr. Bingley never meant to return to Net
herfield this year. But I will not inquire as to why you seem less surprised to see me.”

  To Elizabeth’s continued amazement Darcy chuckled, drawing her eye.

  “Your wit is refreshing, Miss Elizabeth.”

  He shifted the basket to his other hand and tugged on his sleeve as though uncomfortable under her gaze. She rather liked discomposing him as he had done to her so many times.

  “I am sorry if you were given inaccurate information. I do not believe my friend ever made his mind up about his return.”

  Inwardly, Elizabeth sighed. Yet another awkward turn of phrase from Mr. Darcy. Did he mean to insult his friend? For it sounded as though he disliked that quality in Mr. Bingley, and yet if he did not value it, then why be friends? She recalled Mr. Wickham’s words that Darcy could please where he wished, but as of this moment, Elizabeth wondered that Darcy would ever exert himself so much as to play false to society.

  “Next time you go holly picking, you should come armed,” she suggested, changing the conversation.

  “Yes...well, I find myself often unprepared for battle in Hertfordshire.”

  Was it her imagination or did he sound sterner than usual? “Surely you have holly in Derbyshire, Mr. Darcy,” she said.

  “Yes, but I had forgotten how much Georgiana enjoys decorating for Christmas, and our arrival at Netherfield earlier today was unexpected. The staff is a bit on its ear.”

  “So decorating falls to you,” she quipped. A smile formed on her lips as she wondered what Miss Bingley would have to say if she could see Mr. Darcy as decorator and gardener.

  “Well, I have never understood the attraction of holly or ivy for Christmas.” He flicked a flower. “A good hothouse could provide the whitest lilies.”

  Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “I’m sure the appeal began long before greenhouses became vogue for the upper ten thousand. Besides,” she added as she viciously snipped more holly, “you miss the poetic purpose.”