Darcy considered how much he wished to join his friend’s ranks of marrying with only the gift of hearts. He would begin again—with the one who held his heart—at his friend’s wedding. He knew not when that would be but resolved to be patient and hope.
A week later, he laughed outright when his aunt announced a Miss Elizabeth Bennet, the particular friend of her rector’s wife, stayed at the parsonage a mile from her house. Spring had arrived in Kent, and now in Fitzwilliam Darcy’s heart as well. The winters to come in Derbyshire would always prove cold and snowy but no longer bleak.
The End
*Based on the poem In the Bleak Midwinter by Christina Rossetti
Fitzy the Snowman
Mama had let my siblings and me sit in the drawing room at my aunt and uncle Bennet’s house to meet the visitors. We were to remain behind at our house in London, but our cousin, Jane, had recently become engaged. The wedding would be after Twelfth Night, so Mama and Papa arranged to stay a little longer than they usually did on their annual trip to Longbourn and brought us children with them. The carriage ride was cold and tiresome, but the morning after we arrived, we were greeted with a nice snowfall.
My older sister, Eleanor, managed to sit nicely while my brothers and I fidgeted and stared out the window longingly. Cousin Jane’s betrothed, Mr. Bingley, was a very kind man. We all liked him immediately. He talked and joked with us. His friend, who Mama happily introduced as Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, simply sat there, completely still. Well, unless Cousin Lizzy moved. He watched her every movement. She didn’t seem to like it either.
“Mr. Darcy,” said Lizzy, “although my cousins live in London, they have not had the privilege of visiting the museums. How kind of you to give them a display.”
She spoke rather sharply, and he shifted uncomfortably.
“I do not take your meaning, madam.”
Such cold politeness!
“You are the exact likeness of a marble statue!”
My mother heard and added to the conversation as Mr. Darcy looked entirely unsure how to reply.
“Oh yes, the Darcys have a very fine gallery of marble. I know there were busts of many of your forefathers. I imagine there is one of you, too, now.”
“There is...”
“A very handsome image, I am sure.”
“Thank you...”
Was Mr. Darcy blushing?
“I am certain that is what Elizabeth was saying as well.”
“Lizzy was saying he was too cold and impersonal!” I felt compelled to correct my mother. Lizzy always said I had her cleverness about me, even if I was only eight years old.
“Kathy!” Eleanor and Lizzy gasped in unison.
“Kathleen,” my mother said in the tone that promised I was due serious punishment later. “Take your brothers outside. John can accompany you, so there will be no rough play.”
I frowned. What had I done wrong? We left our governess in London; she was to spend Christmas with her family. John, the Bennet footman, was very large and intimidating.
“I need to check on my horse. I would be happy to oversee the children,” Mr. Darcy suddenly said and stood.
He looked at me intently, and although I was frightened, I would not back down from his glare. When at last he looked away, I glanced towards Lizzy, who was watching Mr. Darcy before she met my eye and winked. I breathed a sigh of relief. Lizzy would ensure Mr. Darcy did us no harm.
I took Matthew and Benjamin in hand and led them outside. Mr. Darcy followed us but stopped to ask the housekeeper a question. A maid appeared to help dress us in our coats and hats, and soon we children were bounding in the wide openness of a country estate.
I entirely forgot about Mr. Darcy’s hateful presence for several minutes as I chased my brothers in play. Then I saw Matthew scoop up a ball of snow and throw it—but not at me. It knocked Mr. Darcy’s hat right off his head. He barely had a chance to react before being pelted in rapid fire with snowballs from behind. Lizzy had snuck out of the house and formed an arsenal of snowballs while we played!
Mr. Darcy spun around in shock—and surely indignation—but a snowball landed squarely on his face. She had no mercy, and as he attempted to wipe off the icy weaponry, she launched another attack. Matthew had joined in by this time, and in another instant, Mr. Darcy’s front and back were entirely covered in snow.
I trembled in fear. How angry would he be? But he broke out in a wide grin before scooping up snow and, far too gently, aiming for Lizzy.
She jumped out of the way and teased. “Being a statue again?”
“I am no statue!”
He scooped up a large pile of snow and made a great show of aiming for Lizzy’s face. She narrowly ducked out of the way in time. Now that she had engaged her enemy, she was relentless. She lobbed another snowball at him, and he returned it. She ran away again, but now he was no longer content to be stationary. He chased her around, and immediately we children joined in as well. He could not match the four of us, though, and soon we had him on the ground.
“Stop! Stop!” Mr. Darcy pleaded.
Lizzy motioned for us to cease, and she even held out her hand to help him up, although surely such a large man could manage on his own. He took it and pulled her to him, scrambling out of the way as she fell into a heap of snow! What a jolly soul Mr. Darcy had!
“Mr. Darcy!” she shrieked. She laughed at the same time, clearly enjoying the play.
When she caught her breath, she said, “I suppose I deserved that.” She looked at Mr. Darcy, covered from head to toe in snow, and chuckled. “We are even now. I am certain I am as bedraggled as you are.”
“You are lovelier than ever. A snow nymph.” Her hair had tumbled down during all the exercise, and he pushed a stray curl away from her face.
Lizzy’s eyes widened. Although her cheeks were already rosy, they became brighter, and she quickly looked away. She hastily stood and dusted herself off, looking around as she did so. I saw her eyes alight on Mr. Darcy’s hat, and she brought it back to him.
“Come, children!” she called. “I think we ought to dress up our snowman.” She looked at him for a moment in assessment. “He needs a pipe!”
I ran off to the kitchen—we were only a few paces away—and begged for John’s old pipe. He parted with it easily when I explained it was for Mr. Darcy.
When I returned, Lizzy was still standing before Mr. Darcy. They were simply staring at each other like a pair of statues now.
“Here! For his pipe.” I thrust my cargo into Lizzy’s hands.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, finally unfreezing. “Well, let us dress our snowman.”
She held up Mr. Darcy’s hat, and he had to duck down for her to place it on his head. They both still smiled like fools. She handed him the pipe, and he pretended to take a puff. Then to the amazement of us both, he began to dance a jig.
The boys came running back as they heard us laughing. Lizzy joined Mr. Darcy’s dance, but they must have been dizzy from their turning. They nearly bumped into each other, and Mr. Darcy righted Elizabeth before she fell by grasping her waist. He did not let go, however. He hummed a different, slower tune than before. She placed one hand on his shoulder and the other in his hand. They were nearly hugging! Finally, they ceased their steps, but they did not pull apart. White clouds blew rapidly from their mouths, and they looked as though they were out of breath.
Lizzy’s cheeks were bright red. “Are you frozen now?” Ben asked.
Mr. Darcy immediately released Lizzy. “Are you cold? Ought we to return to the house?”
With a soft smile, Lizzy answered, “The dancing quite delightfully warmed me. You really ought to dance more.”
“If all my dances could be like that, and with you as my partner, I would,” he said, and Lizzy drew in a sharp breath.
Mr. Darcy nervously looked away and then up at the sun. “I fear the snow will melt away today; we should enjoy it while we can.”
“Chase us!” the boys yelled before scamperin
g off again.
Lizzy pulled me aside, and we came up with a plan.
“Grab a stick, Kathy, and we will be soldiers. Our snowman can be our captain, and we will march to the village!”
Giggling, I ran off to fetch my newest prop, and when I returned, Lizzy and Mr. Darcy had the boys in a straight line. I held up the rear.
“What is our captain’s name?” Matthew asked as we began to march.
“He’s Fitzywilliam Darcy!” Benjamin cried out.
“Fitzywilliam!” Lizzy choked out between laughs.
“I will have you know, my cousin is a colonel in His Majesty’s army—with the Royal Horse Guards Blue—and Fitzwilliam makes a fine name for a military man,” Mr. Darcy said with a tone of suppressed laughter.
“Of course...” Lizzy replied. “Or perhaps my cousin meant Frostywilliam. You are still covered in snow, sir.”
“As are you, Miss Snow Nymph.”
“That I am, Fitzy the Snowman.”
We all laughed at Mr. Darcy’s new name.
We marched the short distance past the lodge and entered Longbourn village. A few children joined in behind us. Soon we were on our return march, Fitzy the Snowman thrusting his stick up like a baton in time to a jaunty tune Lizzy sang.
Suddenly we came to a halt.
“Darcy!” Mr. Bingley sounded alarmed and walked forward. Two horses trailed behind. “Darcy, Good God! What have you been doing?”
Lizzy broke ranks. “He has been a delightfully entertaining snowman.”
Mr. Bingley looked puzzled, but as he glanced from one snow-covered body to the next, a grin broke out on his face.
“I am sorry to have to end your fun, but it is time for us to leave. Darcy you will have to hurry now so you can change if we are to make London before dark.”
“You are leaving?” Lizzy turned and asked Mr. Darcy. It sounded like an angry accusation.
“I will be back on Christmas. We are to fetch our sisters for the holiday.”
“Oh.”
Lizzy suddenly seemed shy, and Mr. Bingley lured us away with promises of warm treats in the kitchen for us. Just before I entered the house, I looked back to Lizzy. Mr. Darcy raised her hand to his lips before mounting his horse. Only I saw her watch after them as the gentlemen left. Their horses galloped over the hill, reminding me of Lizzy’s song, but she did not sing this time. She placed the hand he kissed on her cheek.
A few days after we returned to London, we received a letter from Lizzy announcing her betrothal to Mr. Darcy. My parents were surprised, although they had noted Mr. Darcy’s attention to Lizzy after his return, but I was not. I knew she fell in love with him the day Fitzy the Snowman came alive.
The End
The Force of Love
Fitzwilliam Darcy sat in his aunt and uncle’s drawing room as the family gathered together after the christening of the newest heir to the earldom. Darcy was happy for his cousin Joseph, Viscount Arlington, and his wife, Mary. They had a beautiful daughter about two years ago, and now the heir had arrived. The Biblical connotations of their names were not lost on Darcy or his uncle.
“You know, Joshua is a form of the name Jesus. They both mean Saviour,” the earl said.
Joseph laughed. “Yes, Father. We believed no other name would do for the son of Joseph and Mary.”
“His birth reminds me of our Saviour’s. Our Mary is a very good girl—I could not ask for a better daughter-in-law—but I do not think the Bible’s Mary was any more holy than most ladies. I think she was more willing to be used by God, but to make her holier negates Jesus’s true divinity.”
“I suppose you are right, my Lord,” the Viscountess Arlington agreed.
“Nor do I think she had any understanding what bearing the Son of God would truly mean. Could she know that the baby she held in her arms would work miracles? She could not have imagined becoming a Saviour to His people meant sacrificing His life.”
Mary looked horrified. “No, no mother can imagine that I am sure.”
“I am sure she had no more idea of what He would become in life than you do of your son now.”
“He will be raised well, given proper principles. Surely that must mean something,” Joseph interjected.
“We may be raised with proper principles but still turn out poorly. How many men of your own position have squandered their youth and fortune, Son?”
Darcy’s thoughts turned to his sister, although no one but his other cousin, her co-guardian, knew of her near elopement. “Perhaps it depends on the company one keeps.”
“Ha! Then you should be all friendliness instead of arrogance and pride,” the viscount replied.
“What do you mean?” He was quite offended.
“You keep company with us, and we are friendly with all of our acquaintances, whereas you are silent and disapproving. Your friend, Bingley, likely never met a person he could not like in his whole life.”
“I am not disapproving.”
“You are. You never speak to anyone you are not already acquainted with. For them, you are very forgiving; after all, you tagged along with that Wickham fellow Uncle Darcy paid too much attention to for years. But everyone else must meet your fastidious standards. Tell me, did you make a single friend in Hertfordshire?”
“I do not know how to make myself appear concerned in the affairs of others.”
“That is exactly it! You think you must only appear concerned. With all the wealth and power you have, it would be the height of gentlemanly behaviour if you were truly concerned with the affairs of others.”
“I feel as though I can little understand the concerns of country gentlemen of little fortune and no consequence.”
“Do you hear yourself, Darcy? You are only a gentleman with more land than most. It is not as though you are a peer and focused on Parliament and politics. Irrigation is a pain to everyone just the same.” The viscount was clearly growing angry.
“Joseph, Darcy, that is enough,” the countess spoke firmly. “I will not have you upsetting my grandson.”
“Allow me to say this, my dear,” said the earl. “I would hate to be judged only by the offences of my parents. Upbringing is an important factor in any child’s life, but there comes a time when they make their own choices. We are all equal in the opportunity for moral success and failure. My parents nearly ruined the estate, but I chose a different path. I believe I raised my sons right, but I do not believe I should be blamed for their failures or given credit for their successes. Joseph is to find his own way in Parliament as an MP now, Richard in the army. Darcy has had to find his own way no matter how good his father was. Georgiana has to choose her path. My sister, Catherine, has chosen hers; now it is up to Anne to follow in the ways of pretension or to act appropriately. Joshua’s life is entirely before him; he may do good or evil.”
“Hear, hear!” cried the viscount, and Darcy was left to brood in silence as the ladies turned the conversation to things more appropriate following a christening.
That night before falling asleep, Darcy considered the conversation he had with his family. He considered that if Mary did not know how her baby would turn out, then perhaps he did put too much weight on the teachings of parents. His parents were good, but they also taught him it was acceptable to be selfish, to care only for himself—something he always knew others did not practice as his cousin and uncle so pointedly displayed this morning. He could not say it was only due to his rearing that he was so stand-offish in company, nor did he have any idea it appeared to others that he disapproved of them.
Perhaps he did disapprove of others, but now it seemed that no one was worthy of his notice. His cousin was correct: he was only a gentleman. Who was he to feel so superior? What merits did he have to himself? His uncle had saved his family from financial ruin, one cousin served in Parliament, and the other in the army. All he did was inherit his father’s fortune and responsibilities. He had tried to do well, but he knew he had failed, at least in regards to his sister.
>
His thoughts turned to Elizabeth Bennet, as they usually did in the evenings. He should not hold her parents and family against her. Perhaps...perhaps it was worth reconsidering a marriage to her. He had spent time enough in London to know he could not forget her, and indeed he had been in company for many years now. He knew what he desired in a wife, and he knew he had not found it in any other.
He considered, too, his thoughts regarding Jane Bennet—for it would be easier to court Elizabeth from Netherfield, which would mean putting Bingley in Miss Bennet’s path once more. Was she truly such a dutiful daughter that she would capitulate to Mrs. Bennet’s wishes? Was he perhaps premature in judging the daughter by looking at the mother? And while he could never condone Mrs. Bennet’s behaviour, was she so different than his aunt? Were the younger daughters any worse in their flirtatious behaviour than his sister had been by consenting to an elopement?
He thought that if Mary could not have known her son was to become the Messiah, then his parents could not fathom how he, Georgiana, and even Wickham turned out. His parents spoiled them all, and it did them no good. Thinking of Wickham brought to mind another reason he should return to Hertfordshire. He should be concerned for the affairs of the people in the Meryton area, that Wickham could harm them, even if it meant exposing his own affairs. It was not a requirement of civility, but perhaps it was the most gentlemanly way.
Resolved to return to Hertfordshire and show his newfound humility to the residents, sleep began to claim him peacefully for the first time in weeks. He was blind to his faults but now saw them; he had been deaf to Elizabeth’s admonishments but now heard them. He would no longer be mute on Wickham’s travesties. Perhaps he could even manage to speak sensibly to Elizabeth and court her good opinion—for he now recognised how poorly she thought of him.
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