‘Not just to renew my friendship, but to help in any way I can,’ said Mr Bingley. ‘Darcy has helped me in all sorts of ways over the years and now it is my turn to repay the favour. If he needs materials for the repair of Pemberley then my fortune is at his disposal. I have stayed here many times and I would be honoured to help with its repairs, upon my word I would. I shall tell him so when I call upon him.’
‘That is very generous of you, but my cousin would not accept,’ said Anne. ‘He is a proud man. But I believe there may be a way for you to help. I was speaking to my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, about it earlier today and although the damage is severe, it is not as bad as it first appeared. Many of the villagers have offered their time and their labour to the Pemberley steward, free of charge, and repairs are already in hand, though they are being conducted secretly since my cousin has given orders that the repairs are not to go ahead. But they cannot be completed because of the cost of materials. I think, if you were to speak to the steward and tell him of your wish to help, then he would be know how you could best be of assistance.’
‘Upon my honour, the very thing!’ said Mr Bingley. ‘I will speak to the steward directly.’
He was as good as his word, bowing and leaving the ladies so that he could make his fortune useful at the earliest moment possible.
The ladies continued to talk until at last Elizabeth and Anne said they must go. They made their farewells and then returned to Pemberley. As they drove down the drive, they saw Georgiana picking holly. She was attended by two of the gardeners with wheelbarrows, who were collecting the greenery she chose.
Elizabeth called to the coachman to stop the carriage so that she and Anne could join Georgiana. They stepped down from the carriage and were soon helping Georgiana to find the holly with the glossiest green leaves and the brightest red berries. They chose mistletoe, too, with its white berries and its distinctive leaves, and they pointed out the ivy and fir branches they wished cut so that they could make the house even more festive.
Then at last they went indoors, where they partook of luncheon before setting about decorating the house.
Chapter Eleven
In the north of the country, Mrs Lydia Wickham was perusing her mail. She was sitting in her negligee on the sofa, even though it was almost lunch time, and yawning as she read a letter from her mother and another from her sister Mary. Her husband was shining his boots on the other side of the fireplace. Lydia was very bad at managing their money and she never had enough for her wants as she was extravagant and wasteful. Because of this, they could only afford to employ one servant, a maid who served as cook, housemaid, parlourmaid and kitchen maid. They could not afford to keep a manservant and so Captain George Wickham had to attend to his own boots.
‘Lord! What a dull, prosy creature Mary is,’ said Lydia languidly. ‘She has sent me a books of sermons for Christmas, in the hope it will be useful to me! As if I want her sermons!’
She tossed her sister’s letter aside and picked up the next letter. As soon as she saw the handwriting, she became more interested. She uncurled herself and sat up on the sofa, saying, ‘I have had a reply from Miss Darcy.’
‘I hope you have not been begging again,’ said Captain Wickham with a frown.
‘La! Someone must give us money, and Miss Darcy is the only one who listens to my complaints,’ said Lydia. ‘Papa is very mean, and Mama means well but she does not have much to give. My sister Jane sends me money from time to time, but she does not send as much as Miss Darcy. I wonder how much she has given me this time?’
She shook the letter, hoping for a banker’s note to fall out, but nothing fluttered to the floor. She read the letter through then gave an exclamation of disgust.
‘Lord! Miss Darcy says she cannot send me any more money. Mr Darcy’s investments have failed, there has been a fire at Pemberley and the home farm was destroyed in a storm. I am sure she could give us something if she wanted to, no matter how poor she says she is. I—’
Captain Wickham ignored her complaints and picked up the letter. He read it through and then ran his hand through his hair.
‘His mother’s sitting room,’ muttered Wickham under his breath. ‘And her writing table.’
His mind went back to his youth, when he and Darcy had been the best of friends. He remembered Lady Anne Darcy with love and affection. She had been kind to him when his own mother had died, and he had adored her, loving her almost as much as he had loved his own mother. For the lost little boy he had been, her maternal care had been a lifeline in those dark days of bereavement. He remembered her sitting at her desk, with the sun falling on her hair, and the soft smile that had rewarded him for achievements, and the sorrowful shake of the head that had greeted his misdeeds.
What would she think of him now?
She would shake her head many times over if she knew what he had done since leaving school; in particular, what he had done since his father had died. With no clear future mapped out for him, except a life in the church for which he was not suited, he had drifted into one bad set of company after another, and wandered from one career to another, at first trying to apply himself to the church; then, when that failed, trying the law and medicine and a dozen other professions, all of them fruitless. He had lost his way so entirely that he had tried to elope with Georgiana Darcy, in the hope of claiming her fortune, but her brother had foiled the elopement. He had been angry at the time but now he was glad of it, because he would have been ashamed of himself for ever after. Oh, he would have treated her kindly, like a sister, indulging her every whim and looking to his mistresses for his carnal pleasures, but that did not excuse his actions. He had betrayed Darcy’s trust – Darcy, who had been like a brother to him – and he had betrayed the trust of Lady Anne and her husband. They had shown him nothing but kindness and they did not deserve to have it returned by him trying to elope with their daughter.
He had had a lot of time to think since marrying Lydia Bennet. At first he had been angry with Darcy for that, too, until, gradually, to his surprise, he had found that having a suitable career – for Darcy had helped him get a commission in the army – and a wife to look after, had steadied him. The sense of restlessness that had bedeviled him since his father had died had gradually left him, to be replaced by a new sense of maturity. It had taken him a long time to grow up. He had remained a heedless young man until he was almost twenty-eight years old. But now he was finally becoming a man, instead of a reckless youth.
And, as a man, he felt for his former friend. He thought, not What can Darcy do for me? But What can I do for Darcy?
He had no money to spare and so he could not help out financially. But he had the strength of his hands, and if Pemberley was in need of repairs, then his strength would be useful, and it was something he could give.
‘I am going to Pemberley,’ he said.
Lydia brightened.
‘Lord, yes, Wickham. What a good idea! I wonder I did not think of it. They cannot refuse you to your face. Go and tell them they must give you some money.’ She looked around the shabby lodgings. ‘I would like somewhere better than this to live. Somewhere bigger, with a parlour and a garden.’
He did not argue with her, for he knew it was pointless. The argument would lead nowhere. And so, instead, he kissed her on the cheek and told her he would write to her when he arrived, to let her know how long he would be away. He made sure she had everything she needed for his absence. Then he put on his red coat and went round to the stables, where he saddled his horse. Then he set out for Pemberley.
Chapter Twelve
Mr Darcy could not believe how much his life had improved since the arrival of Colonel Fitzwilliam, Anne and Elizabeth. His problems were still the same but they were so much easier to bear with friends to help him carry the burdens. There was a festive feel to Pemberley, where before there had been an air of gloom. The ladies had decorated the house with more sprigs of holly after returning from Lambton, tucking it behind mirror
s and portraits and making a wreath for the front door. They had twined ivy round the banisters and tied fir boughs to the handrails. They had suspended mistletoe from the chandeliers, where it hung temptingly; so temptingly that he longed to catch Elizabeth beneath it. But with his finances in a state of disarray it would not be the act of a gentleman to kiss her, for he could not in all honour propose to her when he had nothing to offer her. So instead, a few days later, he suggested a trip to the pond, which had frozen over and which had been pronounced safe for skating.
‘I have never been skating before,’ said Elizabeth, when she idea was suggested. ‘There is no pond or lake at Longbourn and although I visited my aunt in London when there was a Frost Fair on the frozen Thames, we never skated. The water was frozen in peaks and troughs, instead of in one flat sheet, and although that did not deter everyone, we felt our ankles would be safer if we abstained!’
Mr Darcy laughed.
‘The pond is ideal for skating. It freezes over easily and evenly, and it has a smooth surface. If you have never skated before, then it is time for you to learn,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘I know how much you like outdoor activity and I am persuaded you will enjoy it.’
Elizabeth did indeed love the outdoors and she was of an energetic nature, so the idea of skating was very appealing to her, but she protested that she had no skates.
‘Pemberley has skates in all sorts of sizes,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘We used to hold skating parties in my parents’ time, and they kept a range of skates specially for guests. I am sure we can find a pair to fit you.’
He commanded one of the footmen to bring forth the skates and there was much merriment as Anne, Colonel Fitzwilliam, Jane, Mr Bingley and Elizabeth tried on skates of various sizes. Georgiana and Mr Darcy did not need to try them on, as they had their own skates. Elizabeth tried on three pairs before at last she chose the most comfortable pair, then took tottering steps taken along the terrace to make sure the fit was good enough for her to be able to use them. Then she removed the skates, replaced them with her boots and, carrying the boots, she ventured down to the pond with the others.
‘In the depths of winter, we can skate on the lake,’ said Georgiana. ‘But it takes time to freeze solidly enough because it is so deep. The pond always freezes much more quickly and we often skate here before Christmas.’
They sat down on benches beside the pond and put on their skates. There was much laughing as they did so, and much blowing on their hands to warm themselves up. Their breath misted in the cold air and sent little puffs of clouds flying out in front of them.
Colonel Fitzwilliam asked Anne if she was well enough to be outside. She replied firmly that her health was much improved and that she felt sure the exercise would do her good. Colonel Fitzwilliam did not fuss over her, as her mother would have done. Instead, he took her word for it and then gave her his assistance, for when she had put on her skates she was unsteady on her feet. He offered her his arm and together they went over to the pond and then set foot on the frozen water. He was as steady as a rock on his skates and although Anne flailed wildly to begin with, his arm steadied her and she began to get her balance. She had not skated in her youth because of her ill health, but it was obvious she intended to learn.
Georgiana was a proficient. She struck out across the ice in long, smooth strokes and was soon gliding backwards and forwards, sending slivers of ice up in a flurry as she went. She made it look elegant and simple, and she was so accomplished that she lifted one foot from the ice and glided along on the other foot, with her arms outstretched for balance.
Elizabeth longed to be as good as Georgiana. It looked such fun! She staggered over to the pond, for it was not easy to walk on normal ground in skates, but she encouraged herself with the thought that, once on the ice, she would glide along. She took her first tentative steps, but instead of mesmerising the others with her skill, she almost fell flat! She bent forwards, trying to use her arms to get her balance, laughing all the while. She almost fell, but Mr Darcy skated up to her with long, powerful strides and gave her his arm just in time.
‘Lean on me,’ he said.
She was glad of his support, for it was much more difficult than it looked! It was extremely hard to keep her balance and she wobbled precariously as she made slow progress across the ice, clutching Mr Darcy’s arm. But she was determined to master the art and she did not give up.
Mr Darcy gave her sound advice and, bit by bit, she began to improve. She gradually gained her confidence and she began to glide across the ice instead of staggering across it, although her glides were very short and were followed by a stumble. But she was exhilarated by the feeling. The cold air stung her cheeks and made them glow, but the exercise was invigorating and she did not want to go indoors, despite the cold.
‘Let me try without your help,’ she said after some time.
She had skated back and forth across the pond a dozen times and she was beginning to show some affinity for it.
Mr Darcy lowered his arm, Elizabeth let go and then set off across the ice on her own. She skated in a smooth arc, maintaining her balance, and then began to go faster as she felt the thrill of the air rushing past her face. Faster and faster she went, until she began to lose her balance, windmilled her arms in an effort to regain it, and bumped into Georgiana. The two of them fell over in a heap, laughing and giggling as they tried to get up again. Georgiana managed this successfully, but Elizabeth needed help.
‘Falling down is easy,’ she said. ‘It seems unfair that getting up is so hard!’
They all laughed. It was an afternoon of good cheer and fellowship, and they returned to the house in high spirits. They changed out of their wet clothes, for sundry falls had rendered pelisses decidedly damp, and then met again in the drawing-room where hot punch was served. It warmed them through, sending the heat right down to their fingers and toes.
When the punch was finished, they gathered round the pianoforte and the mood became more contemplative. They began to sing a selection of carols. The bass and baritone voices of the gentlemen blended perfectly with the altos and sopranos of the ladies.
They had just finished their second carol when there was the sound of cart wheels on the drive outside and they saw by the fading afternoon light that a cart was drawing up to the front door.
‘What is this?’ asked Mr Darcy with a frown. ‘The carter should know better than to bring a delivery round to the front of the house. It should be taken round the back.’
‘It is some of my luggage. I could not fit it all into the carriage,’ said Anne. ‘I asked the carter to bring it to the front.’
‘Some of your luggage? How long are you thinking of staying? Not that you are not welcome, but I would not have thought it necessary to use a cart,’ said Mr Darcy in surprise.
‘It is a present, a gift I particularly wanted to give. I will see to it,’ said Anne.
She left the room and they wondered what it could be. They exchanged their ideas, but since no one really knew, they returned to their singing.
When Anne finally joined them there was a brightness to her eye.
‘Will you come with me into the hall?’ she asked. ‘It is a little early for your Christmas present, but this is too large to be hidden and so I will give it to you a few days early.’
Mr Darcy looked at her in surprise but then followed her into the hall. The others followed after. In the hall stood a beautiful writing desk. It was made of rosewood and it had an inlaid marquetry panel which depicted a pastoral scene of nymphs and shepherds. Its slender legs were elegant and there were small drawers in the top which had delicate turned handles.
‘My mother’s writing desk,’ said Mr Darcy with a lump in his throat. ‘But how . . . It is impossible. The desk was destroyed in the fire. It was beyond mending.’
‘This is not your mother’s desk, but one exactly like it. Your mother’s desk was one of a pair,’ said Anne. ‘My grandparents had one made for each of their daughters, Lady Catherine and
Lady Anne. My mother no longer uses hers and so she gave it to me on my twenty-first birthday. It is identical to the one given to your mother. I know how much it meant to you, and so I am giving it to you.’
‘But this is too generous. It is yours,’ said Mr Darcy.
‘I like it very well, but it holds no special memories for me and I would rather it was here, where it will be loved and valued.’
‘There are no words to thank you for this gift,’ said Mr Darcy.
‘No, there are not,’ said Georgiana softly, with a loving glance at her brother. ‘I am too young to really remember my mother writing at her desk, but my brother has spoken of it often and I know how much this gift means to him.’
‘If it has made you happy, I am content,’ said Anne.
The dressing gong sounded and one by one they began to walk across the hall to the stairs, so that they could change into their evening wear. Elizabeth followed them but then paused for a moment and looked back, drinking in the sight of Mr Darcy. How wrong she had been about him! She had thought him proud and cold at their first meeting, and later had thought that he despised her. But he was a man of flesh and blood, capable of warm and deep feelings, and he had not avoided her because he despised her, but because he did not think he was worthy of her love.
As if feeling her eyes on him he looked round. All his haughtiness and arrogance was gone, and there was a man of feeling standing there instead. His glance flicked upwards and Elizabeth realised she had come to a stop beneath a sprig of mistletoe. She turned her fine eyes towards him with a look of challenge and he strode across the room, moving without thought, acting on instinct alone. Taking her face in his hands, looking deeply into her eyes, he kissed her on her beautiful mouth.
It was the most blissful, exhilarating feeling.
He let her go and then sank to one knee.
Darcy and Elizabeth What If? Collection 4 Page 16