Two Days Before Christmas: A Pride and Prejudice Novella

by Leenie Brown

  Richard joined Darcy near the fire. “I suppose that is, at least, an admirable reason for doing so.”

  Darcy nodded his agreement. “I do not think we need to fear Mrs. Gardiner, Miss Bennet, or Miss Elizabeth spreading the tale.” As she was leaving Darcy House earlier that day, Mrs. Gardiner had made a point of whispering a promise to protect the information Georgiana had shared.

  “Mrs. Gardiner assures me that we all make mistakes when attempting to lead a child into adulthood.” He shared a rueful smile with Richard.

  “Does she have children that are grown?”

  “No,” Darcy answered. “I believe the eldest is six. She has been instrumental, however, in Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth’s lives. As I understand it, they have often visited with their aunt, and she is a sort of confidant for them.”

  “And you said the eldest Bennet ladies are well-mannered?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then, perhaps she knows of what she speaks.”

  Darcy shrugged. “Perhaps.”

  “And is that what has you in a stew?”

  “Only partly,” Darcy admitted. “I love her.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I love Elizabeth,” Darcy clarified, “and I wish to marry her.”

  Richard laughed. “Last night you wished to avoid any mention of her name.”

  Darcy rubbed his neck. “I know, but when she called at Darcy House and her aunt said she had refused an offer of marriage…Richard, I thought my heart would stop beating and, though I have tried for the past several hours to rid myself of the feeling of needing her, I cannot. I simply cannot imagine her with anyone else, nor can I imagine my life as even remotely happy without her in it.”

  “I see.”

  “Am I being a fool?”

  Richard shook his head. “No.”

  Darcy looked at him, hoping that his cousin would elaborate on his reply.

  “What can I tell you that you do not already know?”

  “Her family is ridiculous,” Darcy said.

  “And so is Aunt Catherine.”

  “Her father’s estate is mismanaged.”

  “That is not Miss Elizabeth’s doing,” Richard replied with a smile. “Her father has an estate; that is the relevant point — she is a gentleman’s daughter.”

  “But she has little to bring with her to a marriage.”

  “Besides herself,” Richard countered. “Is Pemberley in need of funds?”

  “No, but she will likely bring her younger sisters with her — all three of them, hoping to be thrown into the paths of wealthy gentlemen. Silly younger sisters.” Darcy shook his head at the thought.

  Richard grimaced. “That could be a problem, but is it great enough to require that you give up Miss Elizabeth to another?”

  Darcy scrubbed his face again. “No. I have argued all these points over and over, and the answer is always the same.”

  Richard cocked a brow. “A fool does not put so much thought into a decision, does he?”

  Darcy shook his head. “I suppose not.”

  “Then marry her. Claim some happiness for yourself.”

  “Darcy, I had heard you were here,” Lord Matlock said as he entered the library through the door that led to his study. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?” He tipped his head and surveyed Darcy from head to toe just as Richard had done.

  “He’s getting married,” Richard replied.

  “I am considering marrying,” Darcy corrected. “I must convince her that I am worthy of her first.”

  Lord Matlock leaned against the mantle and looked at his nephew with raised brows. “Have you shown her your bank accounts?”

  Darcy chuckled. “She knows I am not poor, but it seems character, rather than wealth, is of greatest importance.”

  “Then she shall love you.”

  Darcy shook his head. “I am afraid I made a very poor first impression.”

  “Ah,” Lord Matlock muttered as he nodded his understanding. “Put your foot in it, did you?”

  “Indeed, I did,” Darcy assured him. “She has an uncle in trade and another who is a country solicitor.” He might as well get the disagreeable portion of this interview over with straight away.

  “And her father?”

  “He has a modest estate in Hertfordshire.”

  “I see. She is not of great standing, and you are worried that I will not approve.”

  “Something like that, yes.”

  Lord Matlock tipped his head from one side to the other and back. “I will not say that everyone will approve, but as far as I am concerned, I trust your judgment. He has thought through every ramification, has he not, son?”

  “He has dissected it thoroughly,” Richard assured his father. “He has even attempted to change his mind by fleeing her presence.”

  Lord Matlock chuckled. “That rarely works.”

  “So it would seem,” Darcy agreed.

  “You love her, then?”

  Darcy nodded. “I do.”

  “I am glad.”

  “You truly approve?” Darcy asked in surprise. He had thought there might be some argument about Elizabeth’s being of no standing.

  “Very much so. I have always wished for you to find someone to love and to love you in return. You need a woman, not a fortune, to wrap your arms around. Now,” said Lord Matlock, “I should like to meet this young lady so I will wish you well on your quest to improve her opinion of you, and when you have succeeded, send word. I will deal with Catherine for you.”

  ~*~*~

  “You were out late last night,” Georgiana said as she took a place at the breakfast table next to her brother.

  “I was,” he replied, filling his cup once again with tea.

  After receiving his uncle’s approval to marry where he thought best, Darcy had spent another two hours with his uncle and cousin talking and playing cards. Lord Matlock had waxed eloquent a time or two on felicity in marriage and seeing that an estate had an heir. He seemed most anxious to have a grand niece or nephew whom he could bounce on his knee and tell tales — he had mentioned that more than once as well. The conversation had not all been about marriage or the best way to grovel ones way into the good graces of an offended lady; they had also discussed more mundane topics including the new upholstery Lady Matlock planned to order for their travelling coach once the weather turned warm enough to gad about town in the barouche.

  “You were not dressed for a soiree when you left.”

  Darcy chuckled at his sister’s attempt to not ask where he had been while still expressing her wish to know the answer to that very question.

  “No, I was not.” His plate was empty, so he rested against the back of the chair and cradled his teacup.

  Her brows furrowed as she applied herself to cutting her toast into points before topping each with a different jam — raspberry on one, strawberry on the second, apricot on the third, and what Darcy knew to be her favourite, black currant, on the fourth. With that task completed, she filled her teacup and added just a splash of cream.

  “I was at Matlock House,” Darcy finally said upon hearing her small frustrated huff as she stirred her tea. “Richard was at home, as strange as that may be.”

  “Indeed? Is he well?” Georgiana asked with a laugh.

  “He appeared to be, yes.”

  “Did you have a good time then?”

  “We did. Uncle Henry insisted on playing Casino.” Cards of any sort were a favourite pastime for Lord Matlock. However, he was not one to frequent gaming tables for any length of time at soirees or his club since he desired for most of his money to stay in his accounts. A small wager was acceptable to lose, but one must always know his limits. Darcy had heard these words from his uncle many times over the years.

  “And did he win?”

  Darcy shook his head. “Once or twice. He was far more interested in talking than attending to his cards.”

  Lord Matlock was not known for being subdued. Ric
hard often said that his father could strike up a conversation with a horse and convince the animal to vote with him on the next bill that entered the house. It was a skill that Richard had inherited, and one that Darcy, at times, wished he possessed.

  “Were there any stories of particular interest that might be suitable to relate to me?” she asked as she began eating her toast — strawberry first as was her usual fashion.

  Darcy chuckled. “No.”

  Georgiana’s brows rose. “Indeed?” she said with no small amount of curiosity.

  “Indeed,” Darcy assured her. There was no way he was going to share with his sister about the duties of a husband to his wife, nor was he ready at this moment to admit to her that he was indeed looking for a wife — a very particular wife — Elizabeth.

  Georgiana sighed and returned to her toast. “Are you going out today?”

  “I have not decided. I might call at Mrs. Verity’s. I am not expected there until next week, but I do enjoy reading to the children.” He was considering calling on Elizabeth as well and possibly inviting her to go for a drive or perhaps an evening at the theatre or on a trip to the museum. They were all things that he suspected she would enjoy.

  “Mrs. Annesley and I are planning to finish a few projects.”

  He could tell by the way she was smiling that those projects included a gift for him. “Will you be working on them the whole day?”

  “No,” she replied before washing down her third toast point with her tea. “Mr. Martin comes for a dance lesson this afternoon, and I have not yet mastered that Bach concerto. ”

  Darcy placed his empty cup on the table and, leaning back, watched her as she finished her breakfast. She had not looked so happy as she did this morning in a very long time.

  “What?” she asked when she noticed his observation. “Do I have jam on my chin?” she whispered.

  “No,” he replied with a chuckle. “You have a smile on your face and an energy about you that has been absent for some time.”

  “I assure you, Fitzwilliam. My heart is healing.”

  “So you have said, and I am beginning to believe.”

  She smiled at him. “I will be finished soon. Will you wait for me and escort me to my sitting room before you lock yourself away with your books and whatnot?”

  “I would like that,” he replied.

  Georgiana popped the last bit of black currant covered toast into her mouth and took up her cup. Leaning back in her chair to enjoy the last of her tea, she watched her brother for a full two minutes before he began to squirm under her scrutiny.

  “Do I have jam on my cravat?” he whispered.

  She shook her head and then, swallowed the last warm drops of tea before returning her cup to its saucer and standing in preparation to leave. “No, just a smile on your face and a relaxed air about you that I feared was lost.”

  “It would seem,” he said as Georgiana wrapped her arm around the arm he offered her, “that my heart has found its hope.”

  She hugged his arm tightly and rested her smiling face against his shoulder. “I am glad,” she whispered. “So very glad.”

  Chapter 7

  “We have just one more place to visit,” Aunt Gardiner told Elizabeth as their carriage crawled through the streets of the city.

  They had been seeing to errands all morning. Elizabeth had agreed to accompany her aunt while Jane had wished to remain at home with the children. Therefore, Aunt Gardiner and Elizabeth had had ample time to talk about many things. The chief topic of interest for Aunt Gardiner had been the gentleman who had called with his sister on Friday, Monday, and Tuesday.

  “The orphan house?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Yes, Mrs. Verity’s.” Aunt Gardiner sorted through her parcels to find the one that Elizabeth knew contained two shirts and three petticoats. “It is not much,” she said as she found the correct parcel and placed it on her lap, “but it will be appreciated. Mrs. Verity relies not only on her own funds — substantial though they are — but also on the generosity of her friends to meet every need of her charges.”

  Mrs. Verity was a wealthy widow, who, having no children of her own, had chosen to use the money left to her by her husband to set up a house for orphans. Her intention was not just to give them a safe place to live, but to educate them in every area of life that might afford them a proper future, free of crime and filled with hope — at least, that is how Aunt Gardiner had described it.

  Elizabeth had to admit she was curious to see what an orphan house looked like. There was nothing of that sort in Hertfordshire, and the idea of a lady running her own establishment and aiding the less fortunate intrigued her.

  “Mr. Darcy seemed disappointed yesterday when you refused his offer of a drive in the park.”

  Elizabeth’s reply was a tight smile.

  Aunt Gardiner sighed. “He is a fine gentleman — handsome and rich — and quite obviously besotted with you. I do not know why you insist on repelling his every advance.”

  Elizabeth wished she had an answer for that herself — or at least one that did not show her in such a poor light. “I have been such a fool, Aunt. I cannot see him without being reminded of my shame.”

  “Pride is a dangerous thing, Elizabeth.” Her aunt tipped her head and looked at her very seriously. “Apologize.”

  Elizabeth pulled the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth and winced at that one word.

  “Oh, it will smart for a time, to be sure,” her aunt continued, “but then, it will be done.”

  Elizabeth knew it was true. The proper thing to do was to gather her courage and admit her folly. “He will hate me,” she admitted in a whisper.

  Her aunt’s brows rose. “And you wish for him to not hate you?”

  “Yes,” Elizabeth could feel her face turning red. “I believe I have wanted him to not hate me ever since the assembly at Michaelmas. I had hoped when I saw him enter and when his friend paid attention to Jane that he might consider me.” She looked down at her hands. “But he did not.” It was the first time she had admitted how much Mr. Darcy’s slighting comment had humiliated her. She had managed until this moment to wrap that pain in indignation and anger.

  “Oh, my Lizzy!” Her aunt reached across the carriage and grasped Elizabeth’s hands. “Then let him love you now. He is a good man. Do you not believe that?”

  Elizabeth nodded. “He does seem to be a good and kind brother.”

  “He cares very well for his sister,” Mrs. Gardener agreed. “I know many who would not treat a daughter or sister with such care after making such a scandalous plan as to elope with a ne’er-do-well. Why, there is one young lady who found herself in Mrs. Verity’s care after being caught with a beau of whom her father did not approve. Miss Darcy was not ruined as this girl was, but still, to be cast out in such a way.” She shook her head. “And you know as well as I that she is one of the fortunate ones to have found a good place to live until she could find a position where she could earn her keep.”

  Elizabeth nodded. Everything that she had seen or heard about Mr. Darcy since she had arrived in town spoke of his goodness. “I am being foolish, I know.”

  Her aunt patted her hand. “Learning to love is a fearful prospect.”

  “Love?” the word jumped from Elizabeth’s lips. She did not love Mr. Darcy. She admired him; she found him attractive; she even found his company to be pleasant; but she did not love him.

  Her aunt smiled as the carriage drew to a stop. “Yes, my dear, that is the opposite of hate.”

  Elizabeth’s mouth dropped open and then snapped closed. “Just because I do not want him to hate me does not mean I love him. It means…it means…” she stammered indignantly.

  “You value his good opinion,” her aunt completed. “And when not having it can threaten to rend your very soul, then it is time to consider just how deeply you admire the gentleman. Do not be stubborn about this, Elizabeth, or you may lose something that cannot be replaced.”

  Elizabeth
pressed her lips together and followed her aunt out of the carriage and up the steps to Mrs. Verity’s door.

  “Mrs. Gardiner!” A lady with dark hair, streaked with thin ribbons of grey, greeted Elizabeth’s aunt as she and Elizabeth entered a spacious study. The walls were lined with book-filled shelves. There was a grouping of chairs near a hearth, and another pair tucked in a window alcove. At one side, a large desk stood before two more chairs. It was to these chairs that Mrs. Verity directed her visitors.

  “I have some shirts and petticoats,” Mrs. Gardiner said as she placed the parcel she carried between two neat stacks of papers on the desk. “This is my niece, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Elizabeth, this is Mrs. Verity, the capable headmistress of this fine establishment.”

  “Oh, be seated,” Mrs. Verity waved away Mrs. Gardiner’s compliments and chuckled. “Your aunt is always attempting to swell my head even more than it is already swollen.”

  “I speak only the truth,” Mrs. Gardiner retorted with a grin.

  “Well, then, I shall leave that to Miss Elizabeth to decide,” Mrs. Verity arranged herself in the chair behind the desk and picked up a paper. “This is the young lady who is seeking a position,” she said, handing the paper to Mrs. Gardiner. “And this is the lad in need of an apprenticeship.” She handed a second sheet of paper to Elizabeth’s aunt.

  “We instruct all our residence in every useful skill,” she explained to Elizabeth. “Both boys and girls are taught to read, write, and do their sums. The boys practice various skills such as placing and removing things from a table without being a distraction, tying cravats, planting, caring for animals, working with their hands, and when an aptitude in one or another of these skills is noted, we attempt to find them a place where they can earn both a bit of money and experience. Master Riley shows an inclination to be very good with figures. He is not meant to work with his hands. He must work with his mind.”

  “My husband thinks he would do well with Mr. Crenshaw,” said Mrs. Gardiner.

  “He may lodge here if there is no place for him there,” Mrs. Verity turned her attention to Mrs. Gardiner who assured her that all the necessary arrangements would be in place before Riley began any work.