“Similes?” she said, “oh, that’s an excellent game. I’m very good at it too.”
“Very well, then let us begin. Lizzy would you like to go first?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Then your first guess is…as bright as a…?”
It took her only a second to get the right answer.
“As bright as a button?”
“That’s right. Very good, Lizzy. Now you, Kitty. As light as a…?”
“Oh, that’s easy, Father. As light as a feather.!
“Correct. Now you, Mary. As pretty as a…?”
“Erm, peacock?” said Mary after giving it some though.
“Yes, that’s right.”
The game continued around the room. Mr Bennet gave them all an adjective and they tried to think of the associated noun. Some thought of a word at once, other could not think of anything and were duly eliminated. Mr Bennet came to Charlotte Collins.
“Your turn, Mrs Collins. As tight as a…?”
“That’s easy,” whispered Mary to her husband. “It’s as tight as a drum.”
By this time Mrs Collins had drunk a few earthenware goblets of punch.
“Tight as a…oh dear, I cannot think of anything.”
“Come, my dear,” said her husband smugly, “that’s an easy one.”
Charlotte thought long and hard, as Mr Collins made a circular motion with his hand to give encouragement.
“Come now, my dear. As tight as a…?”
“I have it,” said Mrs Collins. “As tight as my husband’s pocket book.”
“My dear,” Mr Collins chided her, furrowing his brow and trying to look stern.
Everybody else in the room laughed. They tried not to, but they could not help themselves. Even the children laughed, even though they didn’t really know why. After a few moments the laughter died down and the game continued.
“I’m afraid that’s not right, Mrs Collins,” said Mr Bennet. “The answer is as tight as a drum. Not…er…not what you said.”
The laughter started again, only a little less merry than before.
The game continued. In the end, the victor was Mrs Bennet. There were grumblings that Mr Bennet had given her very easy words only. Mrs Bennet however refused to listen to such grumblings and insisted that she had won fairly.
“So, the game is over?” said Mr Colins hopefully, as he pulled a few sheets of paper from his coat pocket.
Darcy was too quick for him. He stood up smartly and addressed the room.
“Let the next game commence. Did you say charades, Mr Bennet?”
“If you wish, Mr Darcy.”
“Splendid, then I shall go first.”
Mr Collins sighed. He put the sheets back in his pocket and sat down gloomily.
The others enjoyed an amusing game of charades, made yet more amusing by the participation of Horatio and Alexander. The boys were very enthusiastic in their performances, albeit a little vague in exactly what it was they were supposed to be representing.
The game ended and before Mr Collins even managed to stand up, Mrs Bennet proposed music and singing.
“Will you play the piano once more, Mr Walton?” she asked Mary’s husband.
“It would be my pleasure, Mrs Bennet. What would you like me to play?”
“Well,” said Mr Bennet, “we have already had our fill of Christmas carols, I think. So, play something cheerful.”
He began with one or two simple pieces by Mr Schubert to which the audience hummed pleasingly.
He stopped for a moment and looked at his wife with questioning eyes.
“Well, Mary?” he said.
“Do you really think I am ready, Thomas?” she said.
“I think so, darling.”
“I’m really not sure.”
“I am sure and certain. Come, sit next to me.”
Mary pulled up a chair and sat next to her husband. He turned to the little audience to make an announcement.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Mary and I have been practising together for some time now. We would like to share with you the fruits of our labour. In brief, we would like to play something together. Mr Mozart wrote several piano pieces for four hands. We will both be playing at the same time. I trust you will indulge us.”
The audience expressed their delighted anticipation and with a look of encouragement at his wife, Thomas began to play. He was at once joined by Mary. They played beautifully together, Mary playing the simpler bass part and Thomas playing complicated runs at the other end of the keyboard. They played another piece for four hands and were warmly applauded by the audience. It was generally agreed that their little recital had been a complete success.
This was followed by the singing of bright and cheery songs, some festive, some not. Mr Walton played, and everybody joined in, even Mr Collins in his rather reedy, quavering voice. The biggest surprise was when Mr Darcy sang in a very pleasing baritone. Lizzy knew how well he sang, of course, but watched proudly as the others looked on him with admiration.
The music ended and Mrs Bennet said that it was likely that people would be hungry again now and they should perhaps have some more food.
Mr Collins did not say anything. He did not even bother to reach for the sheets of paper in his pocket. He realised that he would not be reading his sermon this evening. He was an optimistic man though and hoped he might get the chance on Boxing Day.
Of course, that would mean staying at Longbourn overnight. That was his intention as he made the journey to Hertfordshire. He was well aware however that he had not even asked Mr and Mrs Bennet’s permission to stay as yet. No matter, he thought. He would not broach the matter yet but would instead wait until the food had been eaten. That would ensure that Mrs Bennet would be in a much more welcoming mood and much more likely to be agreeable to offering a bed for the night to himself and his wife.
Accordingly, he helped himself to some food. Not as much as Mrs Bennet, of course, but a decent portion nevertheless.
By this time Horatio and Alexander were exhausted. They climbed onto Charles and Jane and promptly fell asleep, drooping themselves over the shoulder of their parents. Their little bodies were floppy as they made little sighs and snorts.
Darcy and Lizzy looked at them and then at each other. They were both missing their little boy and longed to return to Pemberley. However, they had accepted the invitation to stay at Longbourn for the night and felt obliged to remain.
By now, Mr Collins saw that Mrs Bennet was happy and replete. He knew he must strike while the iron was hot and so he nervously approached.
“May I have a word, Mrs Bennet?”
“Of course, Mr Collins, what is it?”
“Well, as you know, my wife and I have made a rather arduous journey from our comfortable home in order to come to Longbourn.”
“Yes. And exactly why did you come, Mr Collins? It was my intention to enjoy Christmas surrounded by my family. And as I recall, you are not a member of my family.”
“I could have been, Mrs Bennet. After all, I proposed to your daughter.”
“So, I understand. But Lizzy refused your proposal, didn’t she?”
“We thought our friendship was too precious to risk damaging by becoming more intimate.”
“She turned you down flat, I believe.”
“Be that as it may, Mrs Bennet, I came all the way to your humble home to offer you and your family a boon. A most valuable boon.”
“What boon?”
“My sermon, Mrs Bennet. I was going to deliver my Christmas sermon to all your Christmas guests. Now, it has proven difficult to deliver my missive today because you have all been playing games and otherwise enjoying yourselves. So I will have to speak tomorrow. Boxing Day.”
“And what do you want exactly, Mr Collins?”
“A bed for the night, Mrs Bennet. Merely a bed for the night. Is that too much to ask?”
“I will need to speak to my husband.”
“Of course, I understand.”
&n
bsp; With that, Mrs Bennet went to find her husband. He was standing near Lizzy and Darcy enjoying a goblet of punch.
“Mr Bennet,” hissed his wife theatrically, “I need to speak to you on an important matter.”
“What is it, my dear?”
“It’s Mr and Mrs Collins. They wish to stay the night. Mr Collins approached me just now.”
“Stay the night? But I don’t even know why they’re here.”
“Mr Collins says it is so he can deliver his Christmas sermon to us all.”
“Really? According to his wife it is because she entrusted him to buy the Christmas goose and all the victual and he forgot.”
“That’s all very well, but what are we going to do, Mr Bennet?”
Mr Bennet gave a deep, non comital sigh and thought the matter over.
“It would be uncharitable of us to refuse them, my dear. However, we simply do not have the room. All the bed chambers are occupied”
“So what do we do? Let’s throw them out.”
“I wouldn’t put it as coarsely as that, my dear. However, I could suggest they stay at a coaching in for the night. There is a coaching inn some miles from here on the North Road. It’s down a little track called, I think, Hobbes Lane. I forget what the inn is called. Something to do with Bethlehem.”
Darcy and Lizzy were close enough to hear them. They kept their voices low and discussed the matter. They were both missing little Fitzwilliam and could not bear to be away from him any longer than absolutely necessary.
“What do you think, Lizzy? If we were to set off tonight, we could be home a good day earlier.”
“You mean offer Mr and Mrs Collins our bed chamber?”
“Why not? They require a bed for the night, and we want to start the journey to Pemberley as quickly as possible. This way, everybody is kept happy and your mother and father will not be offended if we depart a day early.”
“I think you’re right. Let us talk to them.”
Darcy and Lizzy talked earnestly to Mr and Mrs Bennet. At first Mrs Bennet would not countenance the idea. She wanted her daughters with her for Christmas and she was going to have her daughters with her for Christmas. She said that they could find a bed for the wretched Reverend and his wife somehow, even if it meant them sleeping in the kitchen or the library.
Mr Bennet however, understood Darcy and Lizzy’s motives. He grinned at Lizzy and gave her a little nod.
“I think it would be for the best, my dear, if Lizzy and Darcy left this evening. A bed chamber would be made available for Mr and Mrs Collins and all will be well.”
“But, Mr Bennet…?”
“It’s for the best, my dear. I will tell Mr Collins that he and his wife may stay for the night. At least it means his sermon will be over all the sooner.”
“That’s something, I suppose. I’m going to get another morsel of food.”
“Thank you, Father,” whispered Lizzy, when Mrs Bennet was out of earshot.
Mr Collins was delighted when Mr Bennet informed him that he and his wife could stay at Longbourn for the night.
Darcy and Lizzy were delighted too, knowing they would be returning to Pemberley at once. They quickly had their things packed in their coach and prepared to take their leave.
With fond and tearful farewells, Lizzy took leave of her sisters, mother and father. With firm handshakes Darcy took leave of Mr Bennet, Mr Bingley, Mr Anderson and Mr Walton. He shook hands with Mr Collins and was still surprised how limp was the Reverend’s grip.
They stepped into the coach and waved behind them as the coach proceeded to Pemberley.
Chapter 5
“Well, we are on our way at last,” said Lizzy.
“Yes we are, my love. I didn’t wish to leave your mother and father’s excellent Christmas celebrations…”
“Neither did I, darling. But I don’t mind if it will get us to our little boy earlier.”
“Of course, we won’t make too much progress in the night, but we will save extra time anyway.”
“Why so?”
“Because we will not have to pack our things now. And we will not have to wait while your mother eats her breakfast.”
Lizzy chuckled.
“She does have a prodigious appetite, doesn’t she?”
The horses trotted down the lane. The driver had lit all the lamps and drove carefully, ensuring he avoided any potholes. Progress was indeed slow, but it was cheerful too as Darcy and Lizzy talked about little Fitzwilliam’s first Christmas and how they would celebrate the entire season, right up until Twelfth Night.
Lizzy looked out of the window.
“Why, darling,” she said, “it’s starting to snow.”
“Snow for Christmas. How marvellous.”
They put their heads out of the window and enjoyed the sensation of the flakes on their faces. Then Darcy pulled his head in.
“I do hope it doesn’t settle, Lizzy. The roads may become unmanageable for the horses.”
“You’re right. We may be stranded, and our return home would be delayed.”
Darcy shouted up at the driver.
“How are the roads, diver?”
“Starting to look bad, sir. The snow is coming down heavy.”
“Well, press on. Do the best you can.”
“Yes, sir.”
The coach slowed down to a walking pace. After another few minutes, the driver shouted down.
“The road is treacherous up front, sir. I fear we may need to stop.”
“Keep going, man, keep going.”
The driver pressed on for another few minutes. Darcy looked blackly at Lizzy.
“It’s no use, Lizzy. We are going to be snowbound, isolated and alone on the road.”
“Wait,” said Lizzy, “didn’t my father say there was a coaching inn hereabouts.”
“Yes, you’re right. Down a small road called Hobbes Lane I think. What was the name?”
Darcy leaned out of the window again.
“Driver, I believe there is a coaching inn somewhere near here. It’s on Hobbes Lane.”
“I know it, sir. It’s not far.”
“Can you get us there?”
“I’ll get you there, sir.”
The coach continued slowly. At length they came to a little cinder track with a finger post at the corner. It pointed to Hobbes Lane. The driver turned left and continued down the lane for a hundred yards or so. And then they saw it; a brilliantly lit coaching inn. The name on the sign said, ‘Road to Bethlehem’. Darcy and Lizzy sighed with relief. The coach drove through the gates and pulled up. Darcy jumped down and helped Lizzy out. They proceeded to the inn.
The inn was pleasant enough, warm and roomy and well lit. It was a little plain, with a few sparse Christmas decorations and baubles here and there.
They went inside directly and spoke to a pleasingly plump lady at a little wooden desk.
“Have you a room for the night?” said Darcy removing his hat.
“You’re lucky,” she replied. “We have one room left. I will ask the porter to carry your cases up.”
“Thank you,” said Lizzy. “May we have something warming to drink too?”
“Of course. We have a big jug of mulled wine bubbling away on the stove.”
“Perfect, thank you.”
“Now, if you will excuse me, I must attend to a young lady in childbirth.”
“Oh, indeed?”
“Yes. The physician is with her now. I am an experienced midwife, so I will attend the lady.”
Darcy and Lizzy looked at one another.
“Poor woman,” said Darcy.
“Well, at least they are somewhere warm.”
A portly gentleman came into the room.
“Well Bess, how goes it with the lady?”
“Mrs Wickham? She’s doing well enough.”
“Will the child be delivered tonight do you think?”
“I should think so, Ted. The lady is well along. You can help by preparing lots of hot water.”
“Yes, Bess.”
Darcy and Lizzy looked at Bess.
“That’s my husband,” she said by way of explanation.
“You say there’s a woman here in childbirth?” said Lizzy.
“That’s right. I’m going to tend to her now.”
“You said her name is Wickham?”
“That’s right. Mrs Lydia Wickham. Her husband is in the dining room now. He’s been chatting to my husband. Ted says he’s very casual about it, but I know better. All new fathers are nervous, though they try not to show it.”
Darcy remembered little Fitzwilliam’s birth. He remembered how nervous he had been.
“Can it be?” said Lizzy to her husband.
“It must be, Lizzy. Excuse me, madam, but did the husband give a first name?”
“Oh, let me think. It was…er…George, I believe.”
“That settles it, Lizzy. It must be your sister and Wickham. Why I didn’t know she was with child.”
“She mentioned it in one of her letters. I really didn’t think you’d want to know. I’d have told you in due course…”
Bess interrupted them.
“If you will excuse me, sir, madam, I need to attend the young lady.”
“Yes, of course,” said Lizzy.
Then she added.
“Actually, I believe I am the lady’s older sister. May I assist you? Or at least talk to my sister?”
“I’m sure it would be a comfort to have a close relative at hand. Very well, madam, I will go and speak to her.”
Lizzy spoke to her husband.
“You don’t mind do you, my love? Lydia is my sister after all.”
Without waiting for a reply, Lizzy went with Bess.
Darcy sat with the warm tankard of mulled wine in his hand. He took a sip and thought matters over. Wickham was in the dining room now, feeling nervous no doubt about the birth of his first child. Should he (Darcy) go and offer advice, even though he detested the man. He took another sip of mulled wine. It was probably the right thing to do, even though Wickham would probably throw his advice back in his face. He knew how difficult it was for a father awaiting news of his wife and child. But Wickham? After all he had done? Taking money from him. Gambling. Living life as a wastrel, leaving unpaid bills in his wake. And then there was the small matter of his attempt to seduce and marry Georgiana Darcy in Ramsgate, purely for her money of course.
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