An Unexpected Merry Gentleman

by Anngela Schroeder

  The gong sounded again as a roguish smile spread across his lips, and he reached for her elbow guiding her to the dining room. Leading her to her seat, he leaned close to her ear, his breath warm on her shoulders, and whispered, “That is a discussion for another day.” He bowed, before making his way to the seat next to Miss Darcy.

  Flustered by his words, Elizabeth was left with nothing to say.

  When dinner had concluded, Elizabeth and Mrs. Taylor were having a lively discussion on family holiday traditions. Elizabeth was enjoying it greatly, and her pleasure only increased when the gentlemen re-joined the ladies. She attempted to calm her heartbeat as Mr. Darcy came to stand by her chair, his words from earlier in the evening fresh in her mind.

  “Mrs. Taylor. Miss Elizabeth. You make a merry pair.”

  “Mr. Darcy, we were discussing the traditions of our families for the holidays. Does Pemberley have any?”

  “Holiday traditions?” Mr. Bingley asked from across the room. “We have a most unusual one. In Scarborough, if the weather was mild, we would go down to the seaside on Christmas Eve and gather driftwood to make a bonfire. It was a wonderful memory as a child that I hope I to repeat with my own children.” He looked at Jane, and she blushed prettily.

  Mr. Gardiner cleared his throat and broke the spell of the young lovers. “And you, Mr. Darcy? What are some of your Pemberley traditions?”

  “Like most families, we have several traditions handed down for generations.”

  “Yes,” Miss Darcy said. “My favorite is the gingerbread men. Nanny Flora used to have Cook decorate them like me and my pony, Butterscotch.”

  “I remember how you cried when I ate one of those biscuits.”

  “William, you ate her head!”

  The room erupted in laughter and Elizabeth was gratified to see Mr. Darcy joining in the joke.

  “Somehow I feared it meant her death! I begged and begged Father to allow me to run to the stables to check on her, but he refused because of the snow.”

  Jane’s eyes grew wide. “However could you sleep? I would be wide awake with worry all night.”

  Miss Darcy looked up at Mr. Darcy and smiled. “I slept because my dear brother could not.”

  He shifted in his seat as all eyes glanced his way, before settling back on Miss Darcy.

  “After father had retired, William put on his boots and stole down to the stables. He trudged through the snow to bring me back a piece of Butterscotch’s mane and assure me she was well.”

  It was evident Mr. Darcy was embarrassed by the praise, but he turned to his sister and said, “And not once have I ever eaten another of those biscuits, have I?”

  “You have not.” The look passing between them was of tender affection.

  “You make me quite envious, Miss Darcy. I have always wished for a brother to spoil me and protect me as yours appears to,” said Elizabeth.

  “Yes, he is the best of brothers. And the piece of Butterscotch’s mane was what a worried young girl needed.”

  “I am beginning to think he is quite a thoughtful man.” Elizabeth looked at him with a twinkle in her eye, causing his breath to catch.

  She is perfection itself. It took all his power to not confess he would protect her most ardently if she would allow him. But not as a brother! His good sense quickly remembered both Mrs. Taylor’s and her father’s words. I must slowly gain her affection.

  After a moment, Georgiana replied, “The greatest gift he has given me is…his love when I do not deserve it.”

  Elizabeth furrowed her brow. “I think,” she said, “there are times when we feel we do not deserve the love or compassion of others. However, their unconditional acceptance of us, with all our faults, provides the proof we need that we are worthy of love.”

  She placed her hand silently on Georgiana's, a look of understanding passing between the two before Elizabeth turned toward her sister and Mr. Bingley.

  “And what of you, sir? What was your favorite yuletide gift?”

  At that moment, he was more in love than he dreamed possible. This woman masterfully comforted his sister without bringing any notice to her plight. And she, my Elizabeth, not even knowing of her good deed. He stood and turned toward the piano, allowing the sound of Mr. Bingley’s chatter about his first rifle to fade in to the festive hum of the guests. He watched the snow falling outside the window and felt a presence next to him a moment later.

  “Forgive my interference, Mr. Darcy. I had not anticipated your sister’s response. I hope you do not feel I have purposefully put her in an uncomfortable position.”

  He allowed his emotions to settle before replying, possibly too long but necessary all the same. “Miss Elizabeth, I assure you that was the furthest from my mind. You have proven yourself time and again to be most kind and thoughtful. My sister is fortunate to have been guided by your words.”

  A soft shade of pink colored her cheeks.

  “And what of you, madam? What was your favorite Christmas gift?”

  She waited not a moment before replying, “A book of Shakespeare’s sonnets. They were from my grandfather Bennet when I was quite young. I used to read them daily.”

  “And do you still?”

  A sad smile came across her lips. “I no longer own them.”

  “But why?”

  “Do you recall the ‘Little Lizzy Bennet’ we spoke of? She did not always pull her head from books to obey her mother’s directives.”

  “I can well believe that.”

  “Yes, well, unfortunately, Mrs. Bennet was not so forgiving, and Shakespeare was one of my…er…her favorites.”

  He grinned. “What happened?” Her countenance became pensive, and he cocked his head. “Miss Elizabeth?”

  A wistful smile played across her lips, and she sighed. “In a home where one parent values books and another sees them only as a hindrance to a daughter’s future, they are both reward and punishment.” He studied her words, uncertain of their meaning until she continued. “I am unclear what became of my book. It disappeared, never to be found, even after all these years.”

  “Disappeared?”

  “Yes, never to be seen again.” She turned back to the window and the falling snow. “And that is the story of Grandfather Bennet’s Shakespearean sonnets.”

  “Have you never acquired another copy?”

  “I have not. His sonnets were so very dear to me, I fear another copy would not hold the same import. Instead, I satisfy myself with enjoying the Bard’s plays.”

  “And which is your favorite?” he asked.

  “Pardon me, Lizzy,” Miss Bennet said, coming up behind them. “Mr. Bingley has asked me to sing, and I told him I will only do so if you accompany me. Are you willing?”

  He watched her flutter to life. “Of course. Let us see if Miss Darcy might be willing to perform a duet after. Excuse me, Mr. Darcy.”

  He bowed, content as she interacted with his sister. Remarkable! He stayed for only a few moments before he stepped out of the drawing room, warmed by an idea that came to mind.

  “Lizzy are you awake?”

  Elizabeth and Jane were nestled under the bedclothes.

  “Yes, dear.”

  “What an enchanting evening, Lizzy. I have not had such a pleasant time since…”

  “Since the Netherfield ball?”

  Jane murmured her ascent and the room grew silent again.

  After Elizabeth and Jane had exhibited, Mr. Bingley had entreated Miss Darcy to play a few reels, and she had agreed readily. Mr. Darcy had surprised Elizabeth by not only offering his hand for a dance but also asking her aunt Gardiner to stand up as well.

  “I believed I had angered Mr. Darcy until he asked me to dance.”

  “Angered Mr. Darcy?”

  “Yes,” Elizabeth said. “He left the room and did not return for a quarter of an hour while Miss Darcy and I were playing our duet. I had imagined he did not wish to hear such an unaccomplished musician.” She laughed to mask her own discomposure
.

  “You did not anger him, Lizzy. He was in the hallway speaking to one of his coachmen.”

  “A coachman?”

  “Yes,” Jane said, rolling over on her side to face her sister. “I went to collect aunt’s shawl, and I overheard them speaking of London and then Pemberley. Such a great man must have much to worry about and most likely had matters of business to send to his steward.”

  Elizabeth burrowed deeper under the quilt, wrapping her toes around a warm brick. What concern is it of mine what Mr. Darcy does or to whom he speaks? Whether he converses to his coachman or his valet, it can be nothing to me.

  “However,” Jane said with a tease in her voice, “I am astonished you are so worried for his feelings. There was a time, not two days ago to be certain, where you would have no concern in offending Mr. Darcy.”

  Grateful for the darkness, she replied, “Yes, well. I believe I understand him better now.” She grew thoughtful. “It was quite considerate of him to ask Aunt Madeline to dance.” And to be so attentive to me.

  “I am beginning to believe what we have witnessed is his true character. There is no pretense about him, Lizzy. He is a good man.”

  “I believe so as well.”

  “What of his comments to you at the Meryton assembly?”

  Elizabeth shook her head in the darkness. “He is forgiven. He apologized most…gallantly.” She attempted to regulate the warmth of her voice so Jane could not detect her budding feelings.

  “He did? Well, I am relieved. And now you might begin this friendship again, for I have never met a man who in disposition and talents most suits you!”

  “Oh, Jane!”

  “Mark my words. If you would allow yourself to know him, I believe you would run the risk of losing your heart.”

  Chapter 6

  Fear Not Then

  The snow had come with a vengeance, keeping the family home within, and the skies had only begun to clear late the previous evening. Thus, it had been an uneventful few days since Elizabeth and Jane's dinner at Netherfield. With news from the village coming in early that morning by Mr. Hill and from the men delivering meat from the butcher, the ladies of Longbourn were finally reunited with the outside world.

  “My sister Phillips writes there was quite a stir before sun up,” Mrs. Bennet said, skimming the letter her sister hastily sent. “First, the blacksmith woke to discover his cart and donkey were gone—”

  “Maybe the donkey got out in the snow?” Kitty asked, pinning new ribbons on her bonnet.

  “Why would an animal that has shelter and warmth attempt to go out in a snowstorm?” Mary asked. “It seems it must have been stolen.”

  Mrs. Bennet looked at Mary with surprise. “That is just what my sister believes. Because not ten minutes after her Cora came back from the baker, there was a commotion on the street. She looked out and saw Colonel Forster with five other men from the militia questioning people. Now what do you think about that?” she asked with triumph in her voice.

  Elizabeth replied, “I am all anticipation.”

  Mrs. Bennet rolled her eyes. “Oh, girl. And you are supposed to be the clever one your father crows about?” The matron tutted for a moment, but then smiled like the cat who found the cream. “One of the officers has run off and stolen the baker’s animal!”

  Lydia snorted. “I’m sure it would just have been for a bit of diversion. I wonder who it was.” She turned to Kitty. “I bet it was Denny. He loves to have a laugh.”

  “No, I am certain it was Captain Carter.”

  “Or both,” Lydia said, as the girls broke into giggles. “Let us get dressed and go into Meryton and see what we can learn.”

  “All you need to learn is right here in this letter,” Mrs. Bennet said, interrupting the girls and waving the missive in front of them. “The thief is none other than…Mr. Wickham!”

  “Mr. Wickham!” Lydia shouted. “How can that be?”

  “And,” Mrs. Bennet said, “it appears the donkey and the cart were not the only things stolen.”

  “What else, Mama?” Kitty asked.

  “Mary King has disappeared as well!”

  “Mary King?” Elizabeth sat down on the sofa. “Her grandfather just left her a legacy of ten-thousand pounds.”

  “There is speculation she and Mr. Wickham had a secret betrothal and ran away to Gretna Green,” Mrs. Bennet said, continuing to read.

  Lydia’s face turned red. “That is impossible. Mr. Wickham and I were to…” All eyes in the room turned in her direction.

  “You and Mr. Wickham were to what, Lydia?” Mr. Bennet asked, having come in the room to determine what caused the commotion.

  “We were to…to…”

  “I think it is time you go up to your room, young lady.”

  “Papa!”

  An anger Elizabeth had never witnessed before spread over her father’s countenance. “Do not ‘Papa’ me, Lydia Frances Bennet! You obviously disobeyed my instructions to have no dealings with Mr. Wickham. Kitty, you may go up as well.”

  “But, I have done nothing wrong!”

  “Maybe you have not, but the sin of omission is still a sin.” His eyebrows drew together. “Can you tell me you knew nothing of your sister’s meetings with Mr. Wickham?” She remained silent, avoiding his glare. “As I suspected. You are both to not stir from your room until Christmas.”

  His wife’s arms flapped by her side in agitation. “Mr. Bennet! That is a week away. What of the other officers?”

  His glower turned upon the mistress of the house who immediately closed her lips, and then as quickly uttered, “Girls, you have heard your father. Go to your rooms.”

  “Mama!” Lydia said, stomping her feet. “This is not fair! If I had inherited ten-thousand pounds, Mr. Wickham would have eloped with me and not that horrid freckled-face thing!”

  “And yet, you did not, and he did not. Instead, you remain at Longbourn soon to be locked in your room.” Mirthless, Mr. Bennet shook his head. “Elope with Wickham. Hmmph!”

  The room was silent save for Lydia's storming out and Kitty sniffling close behind. The remaining ladies looked at each other in astonishment when Mrs. Hill brought a letter to Elizabeth.

  “It is from Aunt Gardiner,” she said, reading it. “Nanny is ill, and she and Uncle are unwell too. She asks if she might send the children to Longbourn so Jane and I might tend them.” Elizabeth put the letter down and turned to her mother. “Shall I send the carriage for them, Mama?”

  “Send the carriage? No, no that will not do. We do not have the room here to tend the children. What if they become ill themselves? No, you and Jane must stay at Netherfield.”

  “Mama! We have not been invited by Mr. Bingley.”

  “Yes, but your aunt needs you. I will have Sarah pack your things.” She fluttered from the room before returning. “Lizzy, I know there is nothing at Netherfield for you. However, you must be the one to look after the children so Jane can spend her time in Mr. Bingley’s company. This is a fortunate turn of events, indeed.”

  “Our aunt’s illness?”

  “Yes.” She clapped her hands, and clasped her fingers together. “Now, off you go. You do not want to keep Mr. Bingley waiting, do you?”

  While they packed, Elizabeth’s thoughts were lost on the revelation of Mr. Wickham. “Jane, do you think Mary King would truly have eloped with Mr. Wickham? They were hardly in each other’s company.”

  Her sister sat on the bed and began to fold her dresses. “I believe we determined to have known very little of Mr. Wickham and judged him less severely than we ought. I imagine Mary King, a young girl with little family and a recent inheritance, might have trusted him more than she should.”

  “So, it appears.”

  “Yet, as he has chosen to run off and elope, it is possible there is more affection than we knew.”

  “You believe that, dearest, if it gives you comfort.”

  His true character has finally been exposed for all to see, which makes me seem
the fool. For I put all my faith in a libertine!

  Fitzwilliam Darcy could not hide his amusement at the three young girls walking before him. Two young girls, and one young lady, he corrected himself. The snow had ceased, and the Gardiner girls had begged Georgiana to accompany them out as Mrs. Gardiner was resting and their nanny was ill. Thus, they all four set out to tramp through the woods.

  “It is a winter wonderland, Miss Darcy!” Emily said, glancing from the snow-laden trees to the frost covered plants.

  “It is as if Father Christmas himself lives at Netherfield and has put us in a painting,” Victoria agreed, walking along cleared paths.

  “I could not agree more,” Mr. Darcy said. “It reminds me very much of Pemberley and the holiday season of my childhood.”

  “What were you like as a child, sir? I am sure we would have been great friends, you and me, as we both like to slide down banisters. But, did you enjoy playing in trees or swimming?”

  “I did at that, Miss Emily. Some of my fondest memories were with my cousins splashing around the lake on our estate or building a soldier’s fort in the trees.”

  “In the trees? You built a fort up in the trees?” Both girls looked at him with wide eyes.

  “We did.”

  “That sounds quite dangerous,” Victoria said. “Was your nanny not afraid you would hurt yourself?”

  “I am certain she was. However, Nanny Flora would often climb up with us to make sure all the knots were tied properly before allowing us to have our way.”

  Emily Gardiner sighed. “I wish my nanny would let us climb trees. She always tells Mama when she catches me, and I get in trouble.”

  He laughed at the solemnity of her demeanor. “Miss Emily, I am certain she fears for your safety.”

  “Yes, but she ruins all our entertainment. We cannot run through the house. We cannot play catch with our lesson books. We cannot blow bubbles in our tea. It is so difficult to be a lady!” She crossed her arms, and little puffs of breath rose in the frosty air. “I so want to be a lady like Miss Darcy, but what diversions I shall miss!”