The smile on William Kincaid’s face could only be genuine. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy.”
Because he didn’t want to be touched, Darcy bowed. When they returned to the warm house awaiting them, he discarded his torn gloves.
***
Elizabeth, as always, found him first as he headed up the stairs, her look a question.
“I will retire for a bit before dinner, for as long as there is peace in this house,” he said. “If you wish to join me, I think now would be a good time for Georgiana and Lord Kincaid to accidentally be alone.”
Only Elizabeth could embrace him so quickly and without warning, kissing him on the cheek. “I love you.”
He did not reply. He was tired, mentally. He did not want to sleep so much as rest. He dismissed his man, shed his waistcoat and scarf, sitting down on the settee with his head in his hands.
“He’s a good man,” his wife said, sitting beside him. “You did the right thing.” She took one of his shaking hands in hers. It dwarfed hers; it was his scarred and numbed hand, but it didn’t matter. “If you want to, you can practically shoot him from here.”
“At least we are thinking the same thoughts,” he mumbled.
***
“Yes,” Georgiana said, her height and weight being the only things that prevented her from tackling William Kincaid with her enthusiastic hug.
Overwhelmed himself, Kincaid blinked the tears out of his eyes and kissed her on her forehead. It was the first time they had really touched. He decided that he despised English propriety more than anything else about the country, if only for the frustration it had forced on him. He was sorely tempted to cart her off like a wild man and be married on a glen somewhere, just them and the vicar, like olden times. But if he had to wait for her brother to reappear, so be it. She was worth it.
Marriage hadn’t been particularly on his mind when he went to London, though he was getting to be of age where the others around him were giving him that knowing look. He was so exhausted from the fight with his brother over Fiona’s marriage—where he felt it was just to take her side—and then James’s death that he put it aside. He was the younger brother and was busy running the estate in James’s absence and then officially afterwards. He went to London, only most reluctantly, to find it as full of smog and soot as he had been told, but still very sophisticated, far more than Edinburgh, and he was so blindsided by city life until he met Georgiana. She was no longer the girl she had been when they had briefly met seven years earlier. She was a woman, she was out, and she was beautiful. Her brother was an extremely honorable man. William knew he was in love, but he also knew that it would be an uphill battle, and this time with no surprise entrances and quick resolution.
“I feel awful for leaving my brother,” she said, “especially now.”
“Your brother will want a formal engagement period, and there can be no proper wedding until the spring,” Kincaid assured her, however un-assuring that news was for other reasons. “By then, he will be much recovered, I am sure.”
“He did grant his consent?”
“Yes,” he said. “Though, technically, could I not have gone to your other brother?”
“Oh!” Georgiana laughed. “Oh, I have a terrible idea.”
“If it brings a smile to your face, it cannot be so terrible,” he said.
***
The first person to hear of the engagement of Lord Kincaid and Georgiana Darcy was not her beloved elder brother, resting upstairs, or her dear sister-in-law, also absconded. They found Grégoire in the chapel, where he spent most of the day. Beneath the altar was the reliquary of Saint Sebald, though they were hardly making it public knowledge.
“Grégoire!” Georgiana said as she rushed into the room, and he stood to greet her. William kept pace but stayed behind for a moment as she curtseyed formally to her confused younger brother. “May I have your consent to marry Lord Kincaid?”
The look of puzzlement on Grégoire’s face was truly priceless. William bit his lip to hold his laughter and bowed. “…D-do you need my consent?”
“Well, you are my brother.”
“Oh. Yes. Uhm,” he scratched his head. “Yes, yes, of course.” He bowed again to Lord Kincaid. “You… have my consent to marry my sister.”
“Oh, thank you!” she said, hugging her overwhelmed brother. That was approximately when William and Georgiana lost their composure, and their laughter only seemed to relieve Grégoire.
“Do you need me to perform the ceremony or something?” he said, still quite befuddled.
“No, thank you. I’m a heretical Presbyterian,” William Kincaid said.
“Oh. Well, I’m a Papist monk, but I shall enjoy attending the ceremony anyway.”
***
The guest list quickly became paramount to the preparations for the holiday. Lord Kincaid had other prior obligations; he would spend the holidays as he normally did with his family, in the north, to return as soon as it was possible.
Darcy entertained another guest the following day. Though they had been in correspondence, he had not actually seen Bingley since his arrival from the Continent, as neither was able to visit the other for different reasons. “My God, man.”
“Yes, yes, I know, I’m an idiot,” Bingley said. “Needlessly putting myself into danger. At least I managed to do it without leaving the country.”
Darcy managed a thin smile as Bingley was helped into an armchair. “It is good to see you.”
“The same. You scared the daylights out of me. I do not want to be steward of Pemberley and Rosings for the next ten years.” He gladly accepted the drink that was offered to him.
“Thank you for caring for my children. I hear they actually behaved themselves.”
“I was thinking Geoffrey was a bad influence on Georgie, but it may actually be the other way around. It’s rather hard to tell,” he said. “I am willing to have Christmas at Chatton, if you wish it.”
Darcy refused. Bingley was perhaps the one person whom he had no concern about looking nervous around. “I’m very eager to be at home. We would just prefer to have a smaller list this year.”
“Understandably, but there is one matter—Brian and Princess Nadezhda.”
Darcy said nothing. He could think of nothing to say.
“I know—it is awkward. I believe Mr. Maddox is truly penitent about his disappearance and the havoc it caused. But he did save my life.”
“He has a strange habit of causing mischief and then making up for it in the most dramatic way possible.”
“He certainly does. Nonetheless, my sister and Dr. Maddox won’t come without them. This is Nadezhda’s first Christmas in England. They don’t even have a house yet.”
Darcy knew the right decision. Why was he having so much trouble making it? “All right, but no swords. That is my only condition. Besides, it is Christmas.”
“I’ll see to it myself,” Bingley said. “Oh, and Mugin would come with them.”
“Who?”
“The man who rescued you? In the tavern?”
Darcy shook his head. “I’m sorry, I—” He leaned on his hand. “Yes, him.”
Bingley did understand. “He’s their friend from Japan. He barely understands English. He’ll be no trouble; they promise.”
Darcy nodded numbly.
Bingley got to his feet. “It is good to have you back, Darcy.”
It was only because of Bingley’s smile and his tone that only spoke of his words being genuine that Darcy was able to stand and shake his hand before his friend left.
“There,” he said to Elizabeth as she rejoined him, “is a man I did not realize how much I truly missed.”
***
Despite all the things to prevent it from happening, Christmas was held at Pemberley that year. The guests were hosted at Chatton but festivities were at Pemberley. T
hree miles away, the Maddox clan had their challenges. In fact, just about everyone upstairs could hear the shouting.
“Ore no katana wa hanasenai. Kenrin ga nai,” (I’m not leaving my sword behind. I have a right not to do so!) Brian’s voice was defiant.
“Tadashikamo. Kare wa samurai da to omoimasu kara.” (He’s right you know, if he thinks he’s a samurai.)
“Mugin, kare o ganbaranaidekudasai. Anata mou katana to ikemasen,” (Mugin, stop supporting him. And you’re not going armed, either,) Nadezhda said. “Oshujin ni daremo okorasenai. Koko wa Igirisu desu. Daremo anatatachi ni tatakawanarimasen!” (No one is upsetting our hosts! This is England. You won’t be attacked!)
“Shoshiki, Pemberley de mou semerareta…” (Actually, I have been attacked at Pemberley before…)
“Brian, Atashi o shitagatte!” (Brian, you will do what I say!)
“Shitaganakereba, nani?” (Or what?) Brian decided to challenge his wife.
“Sou dattara, Mugin no mae de hanasenai!” (Or—something I can’t say in front of Mugin!)
“Oi. Hazukashinaide…” (Hey, don’t be embarrassed…)
“Mugin, uruse!” (Mugin, shut up!) the Maddox couple said together.
Outside, Daniel Maddox just scratched his hair—what little there was of it, barely enough to start curling. “Should I interrupt?”
“I did inform you of the incident with the man in the bar losing his arm, did I not?” Caroline said.
“Oh. Yes. Well, I’m sure this will sort itself out in time. Why don’t we wait as far away as possible?”
They eventually emerged, proving that Brian remembered how to dress like an Englishman after all. Princess Nadezhda had procured a more modest style of dress than the English gown and still walked about with her medieval headdress. Mugin finally emerged sans sword, wearing Brian’s black robes, blue pants, and sandals, which must have been some kind of Japanese formal wear. “Personal attack, I hit his head with fist,” he said warningly to Bingley.
“I will make sure our host is informed,” was all he said in response.
An enthusiastic Elizabeth and Georgiana, and a polite, somewhat mellow, Darcy greeted them. Dr. Maddox took one quick glance at Darcy’s pupils and kept moving. Dinner could not help but be a celebratory affair. Elizabeth was preparing to enter her confinement, and Georgiana was engaged, a notion to which Darcy had no comment. If he had any nerves at all that evening, none of them showed. He looked remarkably calm, almost sleepy.
They retired to the sitting room after the children were sent to bed, overeager for Christmas, while the adults waited for midnight mass.
“Will Mr. Mugin be joining us?” Elizabeth asked Nadezhda.
“Do they have Christianity in Japan?” Bingley asked.
“They did, at one time,” Brian answered, turning to Mugin. “Mugin, are you religious?”
“Three,” he said.
“The trinity?” Grégoire offered.
“No. Have three religions, gaijin. Not need more.”
“Well, is one of them Christianity?” Dr. Maddox asked.
Brian translated for Mugin. When Mugin replied, Brian and Nadezhda both colored. “I’m not translating that.”
“Now you’re not being fair,” Caroline said. “Tell us what the Oriental said.”
“I really don’t think—”
“Now you’re just teasing us, Mr. Maddox,” Elizabeth said, “unless it was crude.”
Brian sighed. “I explained what we meant by Christians, and he said, ‘Oh, those are the guys we crucify.’”
Mugin had a sort of gloating smile as he guzzled whatever the servant had filled his glass with.
“So… no, then, he won’t be attending,” Bingley said.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“This may be mildly inappropriate for the night Our Lord was born,” the doctor said, “but it is very ironic.”
Caroline stifled her laughter, or tried to, as she nudged her husband.
***
When the hour did come, the carriages were prepared for church, and as they stepped outside, they saw white. It was beginning to snow very lightly, in that sort of beautiful way when it comes down, in soft, slow clumps.
“Happy Christmas,” Dr. Maddox said to Darcy as the others stood admiring the sky. “When I said, ‘Take at night’—”
“Shut up; it was only two cups,” Darcy whispered back. His speech, now that he was actually talking, was a little slurred. “Three. That was it.”
“Generally you should not venture from the written prescription. It could be dangerous,” Dr. Maddox said, slapping him on the back. “But for tonight, I’ll excuse it. Happy Christmas, Darcy.”
“Happy Christmas, Maddox.”
Chapter 31
The Hunt
Darcy’s first words on Christmas morning were, “We did bolt the doors?”
Elizabeth rolled over. “Yes. Why?”
“Because if I have to endure another Christmas of our children rushing in here—”
She kissed him. “One day, you will miss it.”
He smiled and rubbed her swollen stomach. “But not very soon.” His voice was steadier than it had been. She could still sense the anxiety he had not yet let go of, even as it dissipated. “We did get the children something, didn’t we?”
“Yes. We did.”
“As long as there’s no inquiry—”
“Geoffrey has wanted toy soldiers so he can play with Frederick. Anne is to have a play tea set, and Sarah is getting a new doll.”
“Thank you.” Banging on the door interrupted any further conversation, a very low banging on the door. “And it begins again.” But Elizabeth’s laughter made it all worth it.
***
The Darcys and the Bingleys had one tradition that was inevitable—the regular jealousy of the other children, because the Bingley twins also received their birthday presents. They tried once to break it up during a different time in the day, but it hardly mattered, and so the adults just shrugged.
The most interesting presents in terms of surprise came from Brian and Nadezhda, of course, having newly returned from the very exotic Orient. The moment Charles the Third was distracted, his father immediately picked up the wooden top of a fat man that would remove and put back on the mask in his hands when the cord was pulled. “Yes, Charles, I know. It’s lovely,” Jane said to her husband in the exact same voice she used with her children when he demonstrated it. He turned to Caroline, who just rolled her eyes.
Georgie had already opened her new set of colored pencils and disappeared into a corner for a bit before approaching Mugin, who remained off to the side for most of the morning.
“Mr. Mugin,” Georgie said, startling the Oriental as she approached him. So far, she was the only child who seemed to be able to do that without some apprehension. “Happy Christmas.” With that, she handed him a piece of paper with a drawing on it.
“What is-a this?” he said in obvious confusion.
Nadezhda Maddox decided to come to his aid, peering over his shoulder. “It seems to be a picture of you, Mugin-san.” For it was. Georgiana Bingley was an accomplished artist for someone her age, even though she’d drawn him squatting with pencil-thin limbs and shoes nearly triple their normal height. “A present.”
“Oh,” he said, and turned to the little red-haired girl in front of him, and bowed. “Gomen nasai. Demo, kanoyoni nanimo o mottekuremasendeshita.” (Thank you. But I don’t have anything for her.)
“Sore o suru no o nozomanai to omoimasu,” Princess Maddox assured him. (I don’t think she expects you to.)
“Idea!” he announced and whispered in Nadezhda’s ear. Brian, now showing some interest, approached them and, upon hearing their discussion called for paper, ink, and a brush. When they were retrieved (it took some time for the servants to find a bru
sh to Maddox’s specifications), Mugin knelt beside the sitting room table, bunched up his sleeves, and tipped the brush, meant for restorative painting work, in the ink. “Name?”
“Bingley Georgiana,” Brian said.
“Binguri Jorujiana,” Mugin said, and began to draw on the paper with smooth strokes. The other children, and some of the adults, turned their heads as he formed complex and unfamiliar characters, one after another, going down to the bottom of the paper, before handing it back to her. “Here you go.”
“He’s written your name,” Nadezhda explained. “In Japanese.”
Georgie took her present and squealed. “Thank you! Happy Christmas!”
Mugin bowed as Georgiana ran to show off her present. “Papa! Papa!”
Unaccustomed to such behavior from his normally reclusive daughter, Bingley handed Edmund off to Nurse before examining the paper himself. “How interesting!”
One could count the seconds before every child, cognizant of what had happened, wanted one. Mugin obliged, though the warrior did not seem quite sure what to do when surrounded by a pack of overexcited children yelling at him in a foreign language. “So sorry, name again?”
“Geoffrey Darcy.”
“Darushi Jefuri,” Mugin said, taking a second to figure out the letters for that.
“It seems your companion has brought his own set of gifts,” Darcy said to Brian. “In fact, I doubt ours are comparable. He is writing their names, yes?”
“My lettering is not particularly good, but I believe he is attempting to,” Brian assured him.
After the Christmas feast, some overexcited children were put to bed, and the roads were deemed too dangerous from the snow for a return to Chatton. That wasn’t entirely true, but Darcy was feeling charitable, though he excused himself for most of the afternoon. Elizabeth eventually found him in the chapel with Grégoire, but did not disturb them. She waited instead until Darcy emerged. “Did you know he knew all along? Georgiana told him in May. May!” He shook his head. “Little bugger.”
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