Saints and Sinners

by Karen V. Wasylowski

  Kathy gave the old fellow a kiss on his cheek. “I knitted yours myself. Does it fit you?”

  Winters’ cleared his throat. “Yes, madam. I am certain it does.”

  “You have no idea what it is, do you, Winters?”

  “Don’t be silly, George. Of course, Mr. Winters knows a sweater when he sees one. It’s called a ‘Cardigan’, Mr. Winters, after the Earl of Cardigan. Isn’t that precious? He wore one just like this at the Battle of Balaclava. I thought it rather patriotic.”

  “Absolutely, madam.” Every year young Mr. George’s wife knit something especially for him, always a mystery, but always with love. “I shall wear it this evening when my boy and I sit down to supper with Mrs. Timms.”

  “Just don’t trip on the hem, Winters. I told Miss Kathy you weren’t seven foot tall, but I doubt she believed me.”

  “Shush, George. Mr. Winters, You and Aunt Elizabeth have outdone yourself this year with decorations.” Kathy loved the Darcy’s home for Christmas. The hallway sparkled with candles and decorated evergreen boughs wrapped around the bannisters leading upstairs; in fact, holly, candles and bright ribbons and bowls of sweets were everywhere.

  At that moment Alice, George’s sister, peaked around the door of the dining room at the end of the hall and waved. She cupped her hand to her mouth and shouted. “You’ve arrived too late. We’ve eaten everything.” The Darcy’s home was alive with good cheer – relatives stopping by after services with gifts, uncles, cousins, brothers, sisters, all contributing gossip, and laughter equally. “No family arguments have begun yet, so you haven’t missed any fun.”

  “Sorry we’re late,” George called back, “but Catholic masses are endless.” He knew his wife would scowl at that remark; and, she did. “Well, they are.”

  “And you needn’t have spoken with Father Dubin for three quarters of an hour afterward either.”

  “It was worth it. He knows amusing tales, a few of them rather naughty.”

  “Do not lie, George Darcy. I distinctly heard you asking about the leak in the church roof. How much will that cost us?”

  “Saving your eternal soul is worth the price.”

  “Must be very expensive then. And what of yours?”

  “My what?”

  “Eternal soul.”

  “I was rather counting on you sneaking me in through a back door.”

  “We’ll see.” Laughing, she kissed his cheek then turned to the huge hall mirror and sighed at her appearance. “Look at me, George. I hate ‘bonnet hair’ – looks as if a squirrel’s nested up there.”

  Alice had already scampered past her brother and his wife, ignoring them completely, to throw her arms around her giggling nieces and nephews. “I dearly love you little monkeys.” She straightened up and turned to her old friend. “I’m sure your hair looks fine, Kath. Turn around and look at me – good heavens. Well, let’s see what we can salvage. Happy Christmas, Georgie.”

  “Happy Christmas, Al.” George kissed his sister’s forehead before she began to rearrange his wife’s hair. After all, with over thirty odd years of friendship the girls knew what they were about with fashion, who looked best wearing what, and how to hide the rest. “Georgie, wait until you hear, Papa says he has a great surprise of some sort upstairs for the entire family, but most especially for Uncle Fitz. We’ve been waiting forever for him to arrive – oh, sorry Kath, was that your scalp?”

  “Am I bleeding?”

  “Not that much.”

  “Alice, I do wish you would pay attention to what you’re doing before you randomly stick hairpins in my head. Heaven only knows what a mess you’ve made… oh, never mind, I look marvelous again. Thank you.”

  “May I take this off, mummy?”

  Kathy crouched down beside her little boy sitting on the floor, struggling with his woolen Bolero jacket. “No, Henry. You leave your jacket on.”

  “But it’s scratchy.”

  “Mummy doesn’t care, you look very handsome. All right, you may remove the jacket after everyone’s seen it. Wait.” She stood and spun around. “Henry, where is your shoe? Cooper, could you please find Henry’s shoe. Again. And however did he get dirt on his blouse?”

  The children’s nanny grumbled under her breath as she led the boy to a chair in the hallway and Kathy turned to shout at her raucous children. “Benedict, James, Louisa listen to me. If anyone falls or breaks a limb, I swear I shall leave you where you lie to rot and decay. Are you listening to me?”

  The children were too excited to mind though. When Alice held up her hand for attention, they stopped mid-shriek. “Gifts, treats and games are up the stairs and to the left. Off with you.”

  With a hurrah they were off again, racing past their mother and father and charging up the stairs. Kathy stared after them. “Is there a room there where we can lock them all and throw away the key?”

  “Sadly no.”

  “Bother. Happy Christmas, Al.”

  “The same to you, Beef. You’re late.”

  “Henry needed to use the facilities.”

  “I do not understand why –” Alice stopped the moment she saw her favorite nephew home from university.

  “Auntie Al, Happy Christmas.” Will Darcy hugged her warmly, kissing the top of her head.

  “I’ve missed you, you irritatingly young person!”

  “Feels like I’ve been gone for years, I persevered like a true Darcy though. Done with the worst of the homesickness by now, hopefully.”

  “Don’t let him fool you, Alice. The moment he met his roommate’s sisters he was pleased as punch. Both pretty little things, baking him cakes and sending him gifts stuffed with little love notes…”

  “Mother.”

  “Stop teasing the boy, Kathy.” George slipped his hand around his wife’s waist and beamed at his son, the first-born grandchild of Fitzwilliam Darcy and Richard Fitzwilliam. “It has nothing to do with women. No. He loves university because he’s brilliant, that’s all, just like his father; loving every moment, he is – never saw anyone take to leaving home with such unbridled joy. Rather ungrateful wretch, actually. Kathy, I think we should be insulted. That’s it, I’m writing him out of the will.”

  Will Darcy shook his head. Parents could be so embarrassing.

  “Ignore them, Will, we all do. I say, you must be tallest in the family now.” Even stretching up on tip-toe Alice was at least a foot shorter than her nephew.

  “That’s what I keep saying, although Grandpa Fitz still insists he’s taller. He says that even as I tower above him and pat his head.”

  “That sounds like the old troublemaker. Oh! By the way, George, did you bring the Christmas crackers?”

  “Yes, of course. I had the coachman bring them round to the back. Now, are we finished with the hallway greetings; I want food.” George turned and quickly made his way to the dining room, Will, Alice and Kathy following close behind, all arm in arm.

  “Happy Christmas, everyone!” George called out cheerfully, returning each friendly greeting with a wave of his hand. “Sorry we’re late – you know, Catholic mass and all.” At that a few of his more devoted Church of England relatives appeared to suddenly be smelling cabbage.

  “Yes, well… ah, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, how wonderful to see you; Aunt Kitty you’ve left me some pudding I hope. I’m teasing you, truly I am… unless there are no jam tarts and then I shall wrestle you to the ground for those crumbs… good to see you Uncle Charles, Auntie Jane! Oh, I say, I’m so glad you could make it this year. And my beautiful Bingley cousins as well – lovely to see you all. Miss Charlotte, Reverend Collins! I had no idea you would be here, grand top coat you have there, sir. By the way, where are the plates – ah, good. You know, I think it may be about to snow again out there... Yikes!” He started in terror when he turned to see his cousin Matthew’s glowering wife just behind him.

  “Heavens. Clarissa. Don’t know what came over me; forgive me for screaming like that.” His first impulse – to bolt from the room –
was impossible when staring into that fierce countenance. “Happy Christmas?”

  “Our prince is dead, and our dear Lord will be tortured and killed within four months of today. What, in that, is there to console me?”

  In view of her statement it was a struggle for George to provide an appropriate answer. “Well.” He cleared his throat. “It only happens once a year – I mean our Lord’s death, not the prince’s…”

  Clarissa’s narrowed eyes turned to slits.

  “It’s an argument you cannot win, George; believe me I’ve tried for years. Move on.” Matthew nudged at his cousin’s back to encourage him forward in the buffet line. “The true reason for her irritability are her new mourning bloomers. Isn’t that right, my dear? Chafe you, do they? Self-flagellation, the gift that keeps on giving for the holidays.”

  Conversation quieted as those in the room strained to hear the husband and wife’s angry words. Their arguments were legendary at times.

  Clarissa slammed her plate down. “I am not the one who will burn in hell for all eternity.”

  “I sincerely hope not since I will be there.”

  Standing between the two of them George stared at the ceiling. “Do you know what?” He set his plate down and nervously wiped his hands on a napkin. “I do believe I should say hello to mother and father before I eat; I should search them out. Anyone know where they are? Anyone? Probably in hiding from all this Boxing Day gaiety. Never you mind, my boy and I shall go look for ourselves. Will? Where did he go? Will, you rat, wait for me!”

  “Coward.” Alice hissed as her brother hurried from the room. By then the marital battle had called a cease fire, the show was momentarily over, and the conversation of the others slowly had begun to pick up exactly where it had stopped. She turned to her cousin, Kathy. “I love Christmas – there’s always at least one ripping good fight. By the way, why did you need to return home to use the facilities?”

  Kathy blinked once or twice, trying to recall from where that particular comment had come. “Do you mean for Baby Henry?”

  “No, I mean for your husband. Yes, of course I mean for Baby Henry. Are you aware my parents have installed indoor plumbing? They’re kind people; I’m almost certain they’d allow your family limited access. Fully functional, modern, up to date and everything – the facilities I mean, not the parents.” As she spoke her son, eight-year-old Bennet Penrod, his faced smeared in red, tugged, at her skirt.

  “What is it, my darling sprig? Oh my. Have you been mortally wounded?”

  “I shouldn’t think so.” He licked his finger. “Jam. Mummy, I’ve eaten as much as I am able to down here. May I go upstairs and play pirates with the cousins?”

  “All right but try not to wreak too much havoc – remember, we may be inheriting this place one day. And, please tell those other barbarians that the next child to run past me with sticky fingers will be locked in the Darcy dungeon!”

  Kathy spun out of the way just in time as another child raced through. “The longer I live, the more I believe Aunt Catherine was right. Children should be seen and not heard until well after they’re married off. How are the kippers? Kindly move your foot, Matthew.”

  “Certainly not. You can’t just barge in front of people.”

  “Says who? Listen to me, brother. It is Boxing Day, I am a mother; I’ve been awake since four in the blessed morning. I can do and say whatever I wish at this point. Now, excuse me I was speaking with our irritating cousin. What were we discussing, Alice? Oh, yes, of course, about the use of the Darcy facilities. I do realize Uncle Will and Auntie Eliza have all the modern conveniences here. The problem is with Baby Henry – he cannot wee unless he’s home.”

  Clarissa, still hovering nearby, was not pleased by that comment. “Must we be subjected every holiday to discussion of your children’s bodily functions?”

  “Pardon? Oh, you’re still here, Clarissa? What hateful thing do you have to say about my children this time?”

  Turning his back to the approaching gale force battle Matthew tapped on Alice’s shoulder. “Have you heard from Mark? I thought we’d hear from him by now.”

  “Sh! You’re making me miss the argument!”

  “Alice!”

  “Oh, all right. I haven’t spoken with Mark in a week at the least. Just a moment there missy! Kathy, stop taking all the scones! Mummie, Kathy Fitzwilliam is taking all the scones!”

  “I am not! Auntie Eliza, She’s fibbing! Besides there are strawberry ones left! My word, Alice, you are such a baby. You always were a baby. Baby, baby, baby…”

  “Be quiet for once in your lives! Have either of you heard from Mark?” Matthew never could remember a conversation with his female sisters and cousins when a subject was discussed beginning to end without diverting somewhere else, and at the top of their lungs. It was all making him unreasonably anxious; and, it didn’t help that children were chasing barking dogs through the dining room and out again.

  “Mark? Let me think. Wasn’t Mark going to visit with Bunny Armitage’s aunt and uncle. Do you think he’ll ever propose to her? Father certainly would be pleased. Said she had hips for breeding, or something revolting like that.”

  “Didn’t you know,” Alice slapped Kathy’s hand away from the remaining pudding they both wanted. “Mark was going there with Bunny specifically to propose. Kathy! Leave a bit of the pudding for others, please!”

  “Never mind, take it all, it doesn’t look that appetizing anyway – wait, what did you just say?”

  “Mark is finally proposing to Bunny. In fact, Luke was going to meet Mark there and bring one of Auntie Amanda’s rings to present to her. I just this morning sent a note to Bunny at her home asking her to contact me as soon as they return. I was thinking we’d have their betrothal dinner at Penrod Place.”

  “Are you serious? Matthew, were you aware Mark was proposing to Bunny now? He never said anything to me. Why am I always last to know these things? Matthew, take these, I don’t believe I like their color.”

  Matthew scraped the sweetbreads from her plate to his. “Because you can’t keep a secret to save your soul, that’s why; and, evidently neither can Alice!” He was as anxious as he’d ever been in his life, but for what reason? Mark had been gone before, occasionally for months at a time. Now he was snapping at his sister and cousin. If only he could remember what Mark had told him before they separated at that awful Inn. Something about returning in a few days, or next day. It was all a muddle. He was about to apologize to them both when a terrible racket from the street silenced them all.

  “’Good King Wants His Applesauce at the Feast This Evening…’” The voice bellowing off key from outside the Darcy’s house, confusing the lyrics of Good King Wenceslaus, was instantly recognizable.

  “Papa’s here.”

  Chapter 16

  A blast of cold air and snow ushered Richard Fitzwilliam, his spinster daughters, Meg and Beth, and an exhausted looking Doctor Anthony Milagros, through the Darcy’s front door.

  “Good heavens,” Darcy called out as he made his way down the stairs. “For one dreadful moment I thought a pig was being slaughtered on my doorstep.”

  “That’s rather rude of you. Are you insinuating I was a tad off key? Hello, daughter. Did you hear what Darcy just said? I should call him out for that.”

  Kathy hugged her father tightly. “Actually Papa, Uncle Wills was being kind.” Standing back from him a little she patted his stomach. “You’re getting fat.”

  “I prefer to think on it as softened muscle, there to protect me should I fall victim to a sudden stumble.”

  “You could survive a leap from Big Ben with that.” She turned to embrace her younger sisters Beth and Meg with equal exuberance. “Hello my beautiful baby sisters. Happy Christmas.” Then she turned to Dr. Milagros who opened his arms. “Tio Anthony.”

  “Katherine, querida, estás guapísima. Just lovely. Your Papa says you are with child again, yes?” When she nodded, he kissed her cheek, his eyes moist with
tears. “So like your dearest Mama. She could become enceinte from a sneeze.”

  “Anthony.” Darcy shook his old friend’s hand. “Happy Christmas. I hope for London’s sake Fitz hasn’t been singing all the way here.”

  “No idea. I wear my earplugs. My advice to you – burn Georgiana’s old pianoforte before he begins to sing Wagner. You know, Fitzwilliam, it would not go unappreciated if you learned another verse of ‘Holly and the Ivy’. You are driving me mad with that song.”

  “There are no other verses.”

  “Someone be kind enough to kill me now then, please.”

  Darcy patted his shoulder. “Once he begins eating we’ll all feel safer. Now, if you’ll join the others in the dining room, Tony, I have a very special surprise awaiting upstairs for my cousin. Fitz, if you’d follow me, please.”

  Fitzwilliam gave Darcy a wink. “Of course. Well, that sounds promising. Tony, take Meg and Beth with you, poor things must be famished, haven’t eaten in minutes. Wait...” He patted his coat pockets. “Where in bloody hell is my tobacco? Girls?”

  “How should we know?”

  “Because one of you is always hiding it from me. All right, hand it over. Now!”

  “Worse than a child.” Meg pulled a small velvet bag from her reticule. “Promise me you’ll not smoke all the time.”

  “Certainly not. Promise I mean. Now go. Go! You children are too bossy by far these days.” After a small tug of war with his daughter he took the bag from her. “Why are you all still standing here? Darcy has a surprise for me, not you.”

  Beth kissed her father then turned to Milagros. “Have you read the Lunacy Act of 1845, Uncle Tony? We suspect Papa figures prominently in the research for that.”

  “Go!”

  Laughing, both girls then turned on their heels and headed down the hallway arm in arm, followed closely by Kathy and the good doctor.

  “Thought they’d never leave. Clever thinking, Darcy, saying you had a surprise. Now, what have you handy for a parched old man? Something to warm the spirit, work out the knots and stimulate the mind.”