by Maria Grace
“I am sorry—”
Darcy tightened his arm around her. “Do not be. She was not invited and did not bother to even announce her visit. She probably hopes we will grovel and beg her to stay. I do not regret her leaving.”
Fitzwilliam cleared his throat.
“No offense to you, cousin.”
“None taken, I am sure. However, I would like to ask a favor of you, Mrs. Darcy.” He bowed from his shoulders.
“Certainly, what can we do for you?” Elizabeth said before Darcy could release the snide remark on the tip of his tongue.
“I know I have not been invited, but I would covet an invitation for the holiday.”
Elizabeth glanced at Darcy and they shared a nod.
“You, sir, are a most welcome guest. Pray, just tell me the room you favor and your favorite foods, and you will be welcome at any time.”
A smile, a genuine one, broad and toothy, but tinged with an air of sadness, lit his face. “And to what do I owe such an honor?”
“I expect my wife considers you the most sensible of my relations.”
“I am not sure if that is a compliment or a condemnation, madam, but I appreciate your hospitality nonetheless.”
Lord and Lady Matlock visited her in the parlor for a take leave. It was the least they could do for the hospitality—and patience—she had extended.
They did not go so far as to apologize for the slights to their hostess, but they hinted, and only hinted, that their visit might, possibly, in some lights, be regarded as poorly timed and inconvenient. From most, the sentiments would have been hardly acceptable, but from the Matlocks, it was groveling. Just as surprising, they graciously received Elizabeth’s apologies for the misunderstandings stemming from Georgiana’s deceit. All in all, their departure was as peaceful as one might hope it could be.
Dinner was served in the small dining room. Since Elizabeth could not make it upstairs to change, Darcy insisted on an informal event and required Georgiana to join them. The menu reflected Elizabeth’s tastes, not the Matlocks’.
How had Mrs. Reynolds surmised the Matlocks would not be joining them for dinner? She was indeed a treasure.
Good humor and excellent conversation, if at moments a tad improper, reigned, thanks to Fitzwilliam. Thankfully, the Gardiners' sense of humor appreciated the unpolished soldier’s wit.
In the correct company, it was not nearly so difficult to talk as Darcy had always found it to be. Clearly, Elizabeth was the correct company.
They adjourned together for the drawing room, at Elizabeth’s suggestion.
After an evening of word games and a round of commerce, they all retired.
Darcy supervised the footmen carrying Elizabeth back up the stairs. He grumbled and murmured to himself the entire way.
They set her down three steps from the top of the staircase and hurried away at Darcy’s dismissal. No doubt his scrutiny made them as uncomfortable as he. He helped her arrange her walking sticks.
“I am sorry you do not like that,” she whispered.
“No, I do not. I do not find it proper that they should have their hands on your person.”
“It is not entirely comfortable for me either. Does that make you feel any better?”
“Yes.” He dragged the toe of one boot along the carpet.
“Would you be willing to permit me their help? I feel better for being able to be downstairs some of the day.”
“Might I carry you instead?”
“It is not safe for you to do so alone. It would not do for both of us to fall. But … what if we asked Fitzwilliam for his assistance to carry me down as the footmen did? Would that be acceptable?”
Darcy sighed. “Fitzwilliam is family to us. That must be better than the servants.”
“Then I suppose it is a good thing he is extending his stay with us, is it not?”
“I knew he would have to prove himself good for something sooner or later.”
He held the door of their dressing room for her. Her lady’s maid waited inside.
“I will be in our room in a moment.” She smiled at him.
Everything in him went warm and fuzzy in the light of her smile.
How long had he been denied it? Probably only a fortnight, but it felt far, far longer.
His valet helped him undress, and he sat on the edge of the bed waiting, a single candle lit. The mantle clock ticked, marking slow seconds, tempting him to barge into the dressing room to make certain she was still coming to join him.
The dressing room door swung open.
“You are beautiful, Mrs. Darcy.”
She slid onto the bed beside him. “Thank you, sir.”
He slid close and wrapped his arm around her waist. “I thought perhaps I might read to you tonight.”
“Read to me? That is something new. I think I should enjoy it. You have an excellent reading voice, sir.” She leaned into his shoulder and peered at the text in his hand.
“I trust you will enjoy some poetry.”
“Oh, poetry. You have become rather reflective, have you not?”
“I would not call this reflective.” He brushed his fingers over a stanza.
Elizabeth sucked in a breath.
The sound sent shivers coursing down his spine. Had she any idea what she did to him?
He cast a sidelong glance at her.
She knew.
She knew very well. And she seemed to enjoy it.
He laid aside the book and blew out the candle. Some poetry needed no words.
∞∞∞
Elizabeth sat in the upstairs sitting room, reading. Now things were returned to normal, a few minutes on her own proved pleasant, not isolating. Earlier that day, Darcy and Fitzwilliam had taken the children and Georgiana to cut decorations for the house. Evergreen boughs and Christmas roses adorned the mantle and filled vases on the tables throughout the house, the fruits of those labors.
What a change a few days and an alteration in company made. Though there had been a few frenzied moments in planning, all in all, peace had returned and with it a sense of the Christmastide season.
Mrs. Reynolds peeked into the room. “It is almost here, madam. The Pemberley tradition is for the family to gather in the parlor.”
Darcy and Fitzwilliam arrived a moment later.
“Come, my lady, your chariot waits.” Fitzwilliam bowed.
“I am quite capable in getting to the stairs on my own. I have become quite handy with these walking sticks now. Perhaps I might suggest them as a new fashionable accessory for the ton.”
Fitzwilliam sniggered. “Do not say that too loudly. All it would take is one of Almack's patronesses to appear in company with them. The next day everyone will be clamoring for them. You might speak to Bingley. There could be a fortune to be made in selling fashionable walking sticks to ladies.”
Darcy snickered.
Oh, how lovely it was to hear him in good humor once again. The house was glum and dreary without his laughter.
They carried her downstairs to the parlor where the Gardiners awaited.
Soon she would attempt the stairs on her own. The novelty in being carried had worn off. She longed for the freedom to come and go as she pleased. Darcy, though, would probably regret the loss of the excuse to be so close to her in public. She would miss that, too.
The fragrance of evergreens enveloped them, the room bearing a veritable forest of boughs, decked with gay red and white ribbons. Mama decorated this way too. More than anything, this brought the feelings of the Yuletide season to life.
Georgiana pressed her nose to the glass. “I see them coming!”
The children crowded around her. They had never seen a Yule log before. In town, the Gardiners celebrated with a Yule candle.
“Is the hot cider ready?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yes, madam, and there is bread and cheese in the kitchen for the men,” Mrs. Reynolds answered as she walked past the parlor door.
Elizabeth craned her neck to s
ee out the window. A team of horses and several farmers, trundled up to the front of the house, a huge log chained to the team.
The front door groaned open and clanking chains and men’s voices filled the ground floor.
Elizabeth sat on the couch farthest from the door and gathered the children to her. They pressed close, eyes wide at the sight of the men wrestling the enormous log up to the fireplace.
Surely it would not fit. No, there was simply no way.
The children gasped and applauded.
How had they made it fit?
Darcy smiled at her from the other side of the room. He had promised her it would fit and was gloating in the glory of being right.
Dear man.
Darcy and Fitzwilliam thanked the men for their efforts, and Sampson ushered them back to the kitchen for an ample measure of Pemberley’s hospitality.
“That is the biggest Yule log I have ever seen,” Aunt Gardiner beckoned the children closer to the fireplace.
“Where did it come from, sir?” Matthew, the oldest, tugged Darcy’s coat sleeve.
Darcy hunkered down beside him. What an excellent father he would make.
“We have a cooper on the estate. The Yule log has always come from there. It is a log not suitable to his purposes, made a gift, suitable to ours.”
“Surely it is large enough to smolder until Twelfth Night,” Elizabeth said.
“That is the plan,” Darcy said. “Each year, it is the job of the youngest hall boy to sleep in the parlor from Christmas Eve until Twelfth Night. He tends the Yule fire and ensures it remains lit until throughout.”
“Do not fear, madam, the lad is well rewarded for his efforts, with all the apples he can roast and toast and cheese he can stuff himself with.” Fitzwilliam winked.
Elizabeth giggled.
Darcy waved them all close to the fireplace. He opened a silver box on the mantle and removed two crystal bottles and a silver box. He anointed the log with oil, wine and salt.
“May the fire of this log warm the cold; may the hungry be fed; may the weary find rest and may all enjoy heaven's peace.”
He opened a second silver box and extended it toward them. “This is what remains of the last Yule log.”
Ashes filled the box. Along one side lay a long splinter.
“Fitzwilliam, would you care to light the log?”
Fitzwilliam rubbed his hands together briskly. “Afraid that you might not be able to manage to start it on the first try yourself, old man?”
Darcy snorted, but held his peace.
Elizabeth snickered.
How like boys they were. But it was good. Fitzwilliam brought out a youthful, almost playful side in Darcy, one that needed release far more often. True, it was a mite prickly, but that could be shaped and softened with time and practice.
Fitzwilliam hunkered down beside the Yule log. Shadows drifted across his face. He stiffened and stared into the fireplace.
Darcy crouched beside him. “Are you well? Should I not have asked you to do this?”
Fitzwilliam swallowed hard and worked at words. “I … I … I can do this.” His hands shook
“Let us do it together.” Darcy moved close beside him and whispered to Fitzwilliam.
Elizabeth closed her eyes to listen better. He was reminding Fitzwilliam of boyhood times. Times spent in their hunting lodge, of Yule logs past. Of pleasant, peaceful things.
Slowly the trembling stopped, and Fitzwilliam began to breathe more normally.
Together, they struck the spark and fanned it into life. They lit the splinter and nursed the burgeoning blaze until the log burned, too.
Darcy stood and arranged the group around Elizabeth. He extended his hand toward her, and they joined hands in a circle.
“Let us consider the year past. Our faults, mistakes and bad choices. Let us allow the flames to consume those that we may begin the coming year with a clean slate. With that as our starting place, let us purpose to improve our faults, correct our mistakes and make improved choices.”
He squeezed her hand hard and peeked at her from the corner of his eyes. She squeezed his hand back.
This was a tradition different to her family’s. But it was very pleasing and she would look forward to it in the coming years.
They lingered a moment longer then released the circle.
A pair of maids entered bearing trays of cider, apples for roasting, bread and cheese for toasting.
Darcy tossed Fitzwilliam an apple. “You may have the honors of tending the roasting apples.”
Fitzwilliam bit into it instead. Darcy laughed heartily.
Yes, this was the sound to launch a proper Yuletide upon.
The next day, Christmas morning, Darcy called the carriage to take them to church. The picturesque weather made it a shame not to walk with the rest of the family. Even with the walking sticks, she could not have made it there on foot.
Fitzwilliam insisted on walking with Georgiana and the Gardiners. She would miss his sharp wit. But gratitude was a more appropriate sentiment for Christmas morning than jealousy, so she settled back into the seat and leaned against Darcy’s shoulder.
He cut a fine figure when he was driving, one worth watching. He glanced at her and winked.
Cheeky man, he knew it too. And seemed to enjoy it as well.
A crowd had already gathered at the church when they arrived. So many came up and offered their good wishes and concern for her recovery. The warmth proved a bit overwhelming. But it pleased Darcy, and that made it worthwhile.
Mr. Steadman strode up to them. “Very good to see you this morning, Mrs. Darcy.”
“Good morning, sir. I know Mr. Darcy has said this already, but I must offer my thanks for your assistance. I shudder to think what might have befallen me had you not been so attentive that afternoon.”
He removed his hat and held it before his chest. “Glad to be of service, madam. It is the way of Pemberley, to watch out for one another and do what we can.”
“Indeed,” Mrs. Steadman added. “You gave us quite a fright, finding you like that. Nothing could be a better Christmas blessing than knowing you are hale and hearty.”
“I am not so sure about hearty yet,” Elizabeth lifted one of her walking sticks toward them, “But I have every hope to be soon.”
“We were all surprised to hear the picnic would go on as planned. Thank you for that. It means so much to the children—and their families—” she whispered behind her hand, “to know that the master and mistress are thinking of them.”
“As you said,” Darcy glanced at Elizabeth, “we look out for one another.”
The church bell chimed again and they went into the service.
It was strange not to be heading to the baker’s after Christmas service, but the ovens at Pemberley were large enough to roast the Christmas goose. So large in fact that they roasted one for the Steadmans as well.
But the goose would wait until after the picnic.
As soon as they arrived back at the manor, the party turned to Elizabeth and Aunt Gardiner for instructions. With Georgiana as her deputy, Elizabeth directed the preparations of the food tables outside. Aunt Gardiner set up the activities for the children, and Darcy and Fitzwilliam oversaw the men as they erected the canopies on the lawn.
An hour later, the children and their families arrived. The Gardiner children greeted the youngest guests as if inviting them into their own home, with all the warmth learnt from their parents. They immediately organized themselves for a game of rounders on the lawn. Uncle and Aunt joined in.
Georgiana and Mrs. Steadman brought out hoops and graces for the younger girls and cavorted around the grounds after errant hoops.
“I do not remember the last time Georgiana laughed like that.” Darcy said, standing behind Elizabeth’s chair.
“It is good to see her so happy.”
“You wish you were playing rounders with the children, do you not?” Darcy squeezed her shoulder.
“I do.
”
“Then next year you shall.”
“Next year?”
“Yes, I am convinced we should make this part of Pemberley’s regular Christmas celebration. There is too much good cheer here not to see it repeated.”
She laid her hand on her shoulder, over his. “I think your mother would approve. Her journal suggested that these were her favorite events at Pemberley”
“You would have been very fond of her and she of you.”
“I have no doubt. I am very fond of her son.” She smiled up at him.
Oh, how his eyes lit up when she did that. He might be a man with few words to speak, but his eyes said all that was necessary.
“And I you, Mrs. Darcy. And I you. Happy Christmas, my love.” He leaned down to kiss her.
“Happy Christmas to you. Mr. Darcy.”
∞∞∞
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Looking for the next in the Darcy Family Christmas Series? Find them at the links below.
Darcy & Elizabeth: Christmas 1811
The Darcy’s First Christmas
From Admiration to Love
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Regency Christmas Traditions
If you would like to read more about Regency Era Christmas traditions, then A Jane Austen Christmas is just what you are looking for. In ebook and paperback, you can find it at all major online book sellers.
Here’s a sample to whet your appetite.
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Celebrating a Jane Austen Christmas
Each year the holiday season seems to begin earlier and earlier. Complaints about holiday excesses and longings for ‘simpler’ and ‘old fashioned’ holiday celebrations abound. But what exactly does an ‘old fashioned Christmas’ really look like?