Miss Darcy's Christmas

by Karen Aminadra

  Richard turned back to his inviting bed. “Is there anything else?”

  “Actually, sir, there is. The front and back doors…”

  “What about them?” Richard frowned back at him.

  “They’re stuck fast. Nobody can get in or out.”

  “What?” he replied, rubbing the heel of his hand above the bridge of his nose, a sudden headache coming on.

  “We’ve tried running tepid water over the locks, we’ve tried oiling them, and using brute force, but neither myself nor the footmen can budge them an inch. We wondered if you could give us a hand.”

  Richard shook his head, exhaling heavily. “All right. Give me a minute to get dressed and come down.”

  Hobbs bowed curtly. “Right you are, sir,” he replied, exiting the room.

  Richard huffed and strode to the window, pulling open the curtains. He could see nothing through the window. Jack Frost had done his most terrible work that night. The panes of glass were thick with ice on the inside. “My God,” Richard breathed, his breath clouding before him. “How cold is it?”

  Richard dressed in haste and arrived in the kitchens to see the two footmen and Hobbs doing their level best to pull the back door open. “Has anyone tried the window?” he asked.

  The two footmen looked at each other wide-eyed, the answer plain to see.

  “Right,” Richard replied, rubbing his hands together rapidly. “Let’s give it a try, shall we?”

  The kitchen was warming up, as the range had been lit and hot water was heating on it. But even that and the physical exertion from trying to get the windows open did little to warm them.

  The window pane cracked ominously as the two footmen stood on the cupboard before it and pushed with all their might to open the sash.

  “Paying for a window to be replaced will be cheaper than having a locksmith come to fit a new lock if we must smash our way out of the back door,” Richard encouraged them.

  With a great gasp from the cook and housemaids, the window gave way. Alas, it opened little more than an inch. The footmen recoiled at the blast of freezing air that came in through the gap.

  In a flash, Richard was up on the cupboard with the footmen. He shoved his hands through the freezing cold gap in the window and instructed the footmen to do the same. “Right, on the count of three…ready?”

  “Ready,” they chorused.

  “One… Two… Three…”

  Together they pushed with all their might and the window unwillingly slid upwards. The casement groaned and protested. Some of the wood snapped but, as they redoubled their efforts, the sash continued to open.

  The three men sat back on their haunches, breathing deeply. The window had opened approximately one foot wide.

  “Right,” Richard said, jumping back down off the cupboard. “Which one of you thinks he can get through that gap?”

  Alarmed, the two footmen gawped at him.

  “Come on,” Richard pushed. “Someone’s got to get through that gap.”

  The two footmen continued to gape.

  “Oh, for goodness sake!” Richard cried, stripping off down to his shirt and trousers. “I’ll do it myself.”

  Richard hopped back onto the cupboard as the footmen climbed down. He braced himself. He knew it was going to be difficult, and once he got through the window, he would have to contend with the ice-covered ground beneath them.

  He took a deep breath and pushed his head and shoulders through the gap. Richard let out a groan of pain. He overestimated the gap and underestimated his proportions. He had been certain a person could squeeze through. What a shame we don’t have a young lad in our employ, he reflected.

  As he wriggled his body, inching further through the window, he felt the cupboard shift behind him. The footmen climbed back up and were doing their best to force the window open another inch or two, giving Richard more room.

  As he heaved his body forward, his chest became constricted, and it was difficult to breathe. However, he had gone so far that there was no turning back. Either way, he knew it was going to hurt.

  With a great yell, Richard placed his hands against the frozen brickwork, and shoved hard, using his feet for leverage. He was now out of the window up to his waist. His chest was free but the skin over one of his ribs burnt with pain. He took deep gulps of air, which didn’t make him feel any better. The air was icy and felt like razor blades in his lungs.

  “Give my feet a push,” he called out, the blood rushing to his head.

  The footmen dismounted the cabinet and did as they were asked.

  Together with the footmen shoving his feet and Richard thrusting against the bricks, he broke free and fell tumbling to the hard-frozen ground.

  For a moment or two, Richard stared up at the black starry sky, the wind knocked out of him. He closed his eyes in pain.

  Slowly he regained the ability to breathe in and out, the cold seeping deep into his bones and reviving him. Richard clambered awkwardly to his feet, knocking the dirt off his hands and clothes. He looked down at his shirt. His flesh, bloodied and grazed, stared back at him through a gaping hole. However, that was the least of his worries. He checked the windowpane and was pleased to discover the damage was limited.

  Richard then turned his attention to the back door. “Toss me my gloves,” Richard called back through the window. The gloves flew out of the window and he caught them. He was grateful to shove his icy fingers into the fur-lined leather.

  “All right,” he called. “Again on three. Ready?”

  He heard the footmen and Hobbs call back that they were.

  Richard gripped the door handle and placed one foot against the brickwork. “One… Two… Three…”

  Between them they pushed and pulled as the door creaked, groaned, and stubbornly remained stuck. Frantically, the men continued their persuasion until, suddenly, it burst open, knocking Richard onto his back. Again he was winded.

  He gasped for air as Hobbs and the footmen rushed out to his aid. They carried him inside and sat him on a chair before the range. Slowly, he began to breathe normally again. He rubbed at his ribs which felt bruised from the abuse.

  “Well,” Richard panted. “At least the door is open.”

  He watched as Hobbs returned outside and examined something on the wall before re-entering the kitchen and pulling the door closed a little.

  “What’s the temperature?” Richard asked. “What does the thermometer say?”

  “You won’t believe this, sir.” Hobbs blew on his hands. “The thermometer is completely frozen over. The mercury is right down at the bottom. God only knows how cold it is out there.”

  Richard whistled. “Make sure everyone stays inside today, if they can. Let’s keep this house as warm as possible.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Once he was recovered and had drunk a cup of tea, Richard returned to bed while Hobbs ventured out and procured more coal.

  As Richard drifted back off to sleep, he was glad neither his mother nor cousin had been awakened by the shenanigans below stairs. His mother would have been mortified to see him scrambling through the window. He smiled at the idea of her catching him.

  At least the house is warming up now and the ladies won’t freeze, he thought gratefully as he drifted off.

  Twenty-three

  When Georgiana awoke, she lay staring up at the ceiling. It took a moment to realise she could hear the sound of crackling fire. She hoisted herself up onto her elbows and frowned. Usually the fire was only lit when it was time for her to wake up.

  She slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the window. “Oh!” she exclaimed, surveying the iced-up window. She hurried back to the bed, put her feet into her slippers, and wrapped herself in a blanket. “At least now I know why there is a fire.” She rang the bell for Meg and sat before the fire brushing her hair. She tried to think back to a time when the windows were so iced up on the inside at Pemberley. She could not recall ever seeing them so. It was not uncommon for a little ice on the in
side during winter, but not for every single window pane to be entirely iced over.

  Half an hour later, dressed in a heavy brocade dress with long sleeves and a shawl around her shoulders, Georgiana scuttled down the stairs to the breakfast room. She found Aunt Henrietta and Richard there already.

  “Oh, Georgiana, my dear! Are you warm enough?” Aunt Henrietta cried as soon as she set eyes on her niece.

  “I am now I’m dressed, Aunt.” Georgiana replied, joining them at the table.

  “Can you believe what a frightful frost we’ve had this morning?” her aunt asked, passing her the rack of hot toast.

  “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen anything like it.” Georgiana helped herself.

  “It is possible that it is as cold as it was last year.” Richard joined in the conversation. “All of society was abuzz with talk about the Frost Fair on the Thames last year.”

  Georgiana stopped buttering her toast and raised her eyes. “Frost Fair?”

  “Oh, yes! They had foxhunting, bull-baiting, football matches, and even ninepin bowling on the ice. Alex was here last year, and he said they even roasted an ox on the ice. It was so thick that the ox was roasting for twenty-four hours. Can you believe it?” he wriggled his eyebrows.

  Georgiana shook her head, completely agog. “That is incredible!”

  “It is a little foolhardy, if you ask me. Imagine having a fire on ice!” Aunt Henrietta shuddered. “It does not bear thinking about what would have happened had they melted a hole right through to the Thames.” Her shoulders shook again.

  Georgiana watched Richard smile indulgently at his mother.

  “It is of very little consequence now, Mama, for it is in the past and what is done is done.

  “Well,” Aunt Henrietta pursed her lips together, “I still maintain it was a very foolish thing to do.”

  Richard chuckled. “There is no doubt about it, Mama, but a great deal of fun was had by all, I daresay.” He winked at Georgiana.

  Aunt Henrietta clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth disapprovingly.

  Richard changed the subject and discussed the procurement of food and coal.

  Georgiana concentrated on her breakfast. She was glad no one had asked her what happened the night before. Not a single syllable was uttered on the subject. She was grateful to have a family that loved her in such a way that they did not need her to justify herself. As she crunched a piece of toast between her teeth, she hoped the night before would be the last time she would ever have to hear from or see Lord Hugh. She trusted she had made herself perfectly clear.

  As soon as breakfast was over, the bell to the front door rang. Georgiana’s heart jumped into her mouth. Her heart pounded in her chest. For a short rebellious moment, she wanted to cry out, “Don’t answer it! Let’s pretend we’re not here.”

  She pushed the impulse away and hesitated in the breakfast room instead of following her aunt and cousin into the entrance hall.

  A familiar voice reached her ears, and she tittered with relief. She turned around and burst through the breakfast room door, greeting their guests with a wide smile. “Alex! Rebecca! Whatever made you venture out in this inhospitable weather?” she asked.

  Richard stifled a snigger. “That is precisely what I just asked them.”

  Aunt Henrietta pulled her shawl closer about her shoulders. “Come in, the pair of you! You’re letting all the heat out.” She turned about and disappeared into the drawing room. The rest followed her.

  Seating themselves around the blazing fire, Alex, a silly grin planted on his face, addressed Georgiana. “We have come with some rather interesting news, Miss Darcy.”

  Georgiana’s face lit up, and she shuffled to the edge of her seat. “Oh, aye?”

  “Aye, indeed.” Rebecca giggled.

  “No one knows the exact temperature outside, as yet,” Alex explained, “but many folks are saying that it is a least minus four degrees Fahrenheit.”

  Georgiana gasped and covered her mouth with her hands.

  “Dear Lord!” Aunt Henrietta exclaimed and shuffled a little closer to the fire as though it were minus four in the drawing room.

  “Apparently, though, it isn’t quite as cold as last year. The Thames hasn’t frozen over completely,” Alex continued.

  The corners of Georgiana’s mouth turned down. She felt a little disappointed by Alex’s revelation. The thought of experiencing the things Richard had mentioned filled her with anticipation.

  “However,” Alex drew out the word, his eyes dancing with mischief, “a lot of the Thames has frozen up.”

  Georgiana clapped her hands together, her excitement rekindled.

  “Rebecca and I were wondering if you, Miss Darcy, and you, of course, Richard,” he pulled a face at his friend, “would like to join us for a spot of ice-skating on the River Thames.”

  “Oh, my goodness!” Georgiana squealed with delight.

  Richard burst out laughing. “I think that is a yes.”

  “So do I,” Alex agreed, laughing too.

  Rebecca shot across the room, sat next to Georgiana, and took hold of her hands. “We shall be such a merry bunch. We shall have hot chestnuts, for Alex says there will be many food vendors pitching their pop-up stalls on the ice.”

  Georgiana could scarcely believe it. The fishing lakes at Pemberley would often freeze over at Christmas and during the winter. When she was a child, her brother would regularly take her ice-skating, as long as the ice held his weight first, but the idea that the river at the heart of the city was frozen over, if only for a day or two, and that all the inhabitants of London could possibly be frolicking there left her awestruck.

  “Just be sure that whatever you eat is fresh and well cooked,” Aunt Henrietta said, waggling a warning finger in Georgiana’s direction.

  She deflated a little. “Yes, Aunt.”

  “Mama,” Richard rushed to her defence, “I assure you that Georgiana will be well taken care of. I would not let anything happen to her.”

  He smiled at her, and her stomach backflipped.

  “When shall we depart?” Rebecca asked.

  “The sooner these two can make themselves ready, the better,” Alex replied, grinning broadly.

  Georgiana could not have exited the room any faster.

  * * *

  Fresh hot bricks were prepared for Alex’s carriage, and amid cautionary warnings from Aunt Henrietta, the four of them set out for the river.

  At first, Georgiana felt overly dressed; that was until she stepped out into the frigid air. She realised then that all the layers Aunt Henrietta had insisted upon had their value. She protested at wearing sheepskin, fur-lined mittens, and taking a muff, but understood now that her aunt was far wiser.

  So far during her stay, Georgiana had not ventured so close to the river. She pressed herself close to the window. She did not want to miss a thing.

  “There is, of course, one good thing to be said for the Thames freezing over,” Alex chortled, “one cannot smell the sewage in the river so much.”

  Startled, Georgiana twisted around in her seat. “The sewage goes into the river?”

  “As it does everywhere,” Alex replied.

  “But in a city this size…” Georgiana’s mouth fell open, and she stared back out the window.

  “My cousin does have a point,” Richard added. “I believe there are some cities in Europe now that have reached such a size they are installing plumbing.”

  “Like the Romans had?” Rebecca asked.

  “I believe modern plumbing is based upon that idea, yes.”

  “Then they ought to do that here too,” Georgiana breathed against the window, fogging it up.

  “Indeed, they jolly well should!” Alex slapped his knee. “You remember Horace?” he asked Richard.

  Georgiana sat back properly, interested in the conversation.

  “Horace Albright? Pimple-faced chap?” Richard squinted in recollection.

  “Aye,” Alex acknowledged, “t
hat’s the fellow. Well, he’s a doctor here in London now, and the things he tells me would shock even the hardiest of soldiers.”

  Richard raised a shoulder in his thick grey woollen coat. “I don’t know. I’ve seen some terrible things in my time.”

  “He says that whenever we have an insufferably hot and humid summer—”

  “Which is most years,” Richard interrupted.

  “Apart from the last,” Alex snorted. “Well, Horace says that during those summers, here in London they have the most horrific outbreaks of cholera.”

  Georgiana’s hand shot to her mouth.

  “Oh, my goodness!” Rebecca balked.

  Richard groaned. “I have seen my fair share of cholera cases, I can tell you. Dear God! I would not wish that upon my worst enemy.”

  “Then something ought to be done!” Georgiana blurted out.

  “Indeed,” Alex agreed with her. “But by whom?”

  Georgiana frowned. She had no idea.

  “Only the ruling classes can petition such changes,” Richard explained. “How many of them are really interested in whether the poorer working-class folk catch cholera or not?”

  “That is heartless!” she cried.

  “Yes, it is,” Richard replied, laying his hand over hers and causing her heart to flutter and stilling her tongue.

  Alex sighed and laid his head back. “Aye, progress and change are slow, but there is one thing for certain…you cannot stop them.”

  Georgiana could not explain why, but his words gave her some comfort. Growing up, Georgiana had always been impressed upon by her brother and her parents to take care of those who were less fortunate than she. It grieved her deeply that there were those living within the confines of London who suffered. She decided that, when she got back to Pemberley, she would ask her brother about the sewage upon the estate. No woman could vote, but women could change things, she knew. She might help and make a start with Pemberley. As her brother always told her, a rockfall always began with a small pebble.

  Twenty-four