A Merry Darcy Christmas, page 4
“You think I ought to go to Netherfield for Christmas?” Bingley asked. “I daresay Caroline would not be pleased with that prospect . . .”
“She can stay in London.”
“Well, there’s that. But we always Christmas together, you know. And what if Miss Jane Bennet has moved on? A beautiful girl like that has, you know, many options.”
“She has fewer than she might have otherwise, given her financial situation, and her lack of social connections,” Darcy said. “No, I don’t mean that this is a mark against her, but a mark in your favor. Also, remember that Meryton is not London; there are a few suitors near Longbourn than in town.”
Bingley seemed cheered by this. “Perhaps it’s not too late,” he said. Then he looked up at Darcy sharply. “But what of your advice to consider the young lady’s financial and social position? Do you not stand by that?”
Darcy remembered the talks he had had with his friend about the importance of choosing wisely, and not letting one’s heart be carried away rather than making a prudent choice based on reason. He had not been wholly wrong about that, but given his own inability to forget Miss Elizabeth Bennet, he could see that it was not as simple a matter as he had supposed.
“I stand by it for myself,” Darcy said. “for I have to consider the best interest of Pemberley, that is a trust that has been handed down to me. Georgiana’s settlement will deplete the estate significantly. I must marry with that in mind.” He did not tell his friend that he had determined to increase the coffers of Pemberley so that he could marry whom he chose. “But you have no similar concern. You have plenty of money and have yet to purchase an estate. When you do, none of it will go to your sisters, who already have their settlements. Indeed, I would be very surprised if Caroline did not augment hers by a shrewd choice of husband.”
“So you are suggesting that I can marry whom I choose?”
“I’m saying your situation is different from mine. And yes, you’re free to marry for love rather than financial considerations.”
“I say, Darcy. You are absolutely right,” Bingley said with enthusiasm. “I shall Christmas at Netherfield. I will propose to Miss Jane Bennet, and I’ll be damned if she does not say yes.”
“Mr. Darcy is going to spend Christmas at Rosings Park,” said Caroline Bingley, peering at Darcy over her fork. “I am all astonishment. I thought his business in London was to keep him here with us in town.”
Darcy hadn’t intended to stay for dinner, but he was so relieved by Bingley’s attitude towards his confession about Miss Jane Bennet that he couldn’t say no to the importunings of his friend.
“They’ll have quite a spread at Rosings, I should say,” said Mr. Hurst to no one in particular.
“But that’s the thing,” said Bingley. He beamed as though he was about to relate the most wonderful news. “We are going to hold Christmas at Netherfield.”
Dead silence. His sisters and Mr. Hurst stared at him. Darcy looked down at his plate.
Bingley seemed lost for words. Mr. Hurst seemed about to say something but grabbed his wineglass instead and emptied it. Caroline Bingley stared at her brother with her mouth open, and Mrs. Hurst seemed to be frozen in mid chew.
Then they all spoke at once.
“Netherfield?”
“Christmas in Hertfordshire?”
“But, you see, Miss Jane Bennet—”
“Place’ll be bloody cold, like a great tomb . . .”
Darcy said nothing as they bickered back and forth. Mr. Hurst seemed largely indifferent to the scheme, though it was plain that he was not for it. Mr. Bingley’s sisters, on the other hand, did not contain their outrage.
“But there will be nobody of any consequence in Hertfordshire,” Caroline said. Her sister nodded solemnly in agreement. “No one of any social standing.”
“Well, Miss Jane Bennet will be there, at Longbourn I mean, and she’s important to me,” Bingley looked to Darcy for help.
“If you plan to purchase Netherfield,” Darcy said. “It would be a prudent thing to spend Christmas there first.”
“It would be a prudent thing to be bored? It would be a prudent thing to waste the Christmas season in the middle of nowhere with such . . . company?”
“Now, Caroline—”
“It’ll be bloody cold,” said Mr. Hurst. “I don’t call that prudent.”
“How can you be so selfish?” Caroline said. Her sister nodded her head emphatically. “You have an unwed sister and you would drag her to the ends of the earth where she has no hope of meeting a suitable man.”
“That’s just selfish,” said Mrs. Hurst. “Dreadfully so.”
“You can stay in London if you like,” said Bingley. “You can all stay in London if it pleases you.”
At this, Caroline was silent. She glared at her brother for a moment, glanced at Mr. Darcy, and then squared her shoulders as though girding herself for some ordeal.
“I had forgotten that it is impossible for us to travel to Netherfield for Christmas as we had already made plans to Christmas with Mr. Darcy,” she said evenly.
“But that was when he was staying in London,” protested Bingley. “He’s going to Christmas at Rosings Park now. We are under no obligation to follow him. Indeed, we are not invited.”
Caroline turned to Darcy who was seated directly across the table from her. “Mr. Darcy, please confirm whether or not it was your intention to extend an invitation to us to attend with you at Rosings Park? Surely, you did not mean to go without us?”
Darcy was in a spot. He could not decline to invite them as his guests to Christmas at his aunt’s. Yet he had no wish to let Bingley fight the battle all on his own.
“Of course, anyone who wishes to accompany me may come as my guest to Rosings,” Darcy said. “But you are under no obligation to. Bingley, you can certainly go to Netherfield—”
“Rosings Park for Christmas!” Mrs. Hurst clapped her hands together.
“It’ll be quite a spread.” Mr. Hurst patted his broad belly with both hands then tucked his thumbs into the pockets of his waistcoat.
Darcy opened his hands palms up in a gesture of helplessness and Bingley sighed.
“I’m not going to Netherfield on my own,” Bingley said. He regarded the merriment of the sisters reproachfully. “I should feel a fool calling on Miss Bennet on my own.”
“There will be ladies aplenty at Rosings Park, I am sure,” Caroline said lightly. “Mr. Darcy, you are all graciousness towards us. I knew you would not wish to be parted from your dearest friends at Christmas time.”
“I suppose I can open up Netherfield in the spring,” Bingley muttered. “We can certainly go to Netherfield for Easter?”
“Hertfordshire will be all in bloom in spring,” said Caroline. “Netherfield will be so quaint.”
Mrs. Hurst nodded, her mouth being too full to speak.
“Good shooting at Easter,” said Mr. Hurst.
They discussed the travel arrangements—Mr. Bingley’s chaise-in-four and Mr. Darcy’s Barouche box would be sufficient for transport—and decided upon the day of departure and the time. Darcy had not yet written his aunt to tell them that he was coming for Christmas after all so that he need only add that he was bringing guests to the letter. The manor house at Rosings was so large he knew there would be no difficulty accommodating them.
Bingley accepted the adventure stoically, if not with enthusiasm. Darcy, for his part, was cheered to have his friend at Rosings with him for Christmas. He was less sanguine about the others; Caroline Bingley in particular grated upon his nerves.
It would be good for Georgiana too, to have some familiar faces other than Lady Catherine and her daughter, Anne. It would help her relax and put her at ease to be with people she knew very well and was comfortable with. Caroline, for all her faults, could be attentive to Georgiana and smooth her path socially if she wished.
The party also resolved to go to Netherfield for Easter. This was to placate Bingley and also to be agreeable to Darcy, for he insisted very forcefully that it was an excellent idea.
By then, he would have, he believed, Pemberley on a more solid financial footing. With luck, he’d be on the way to more than compensating for Georgiana’s settlement.
And Miss Elizabeth Bennet would be at Longbourn. Darcy was more optimistic about Bingley’s chances with her elder sister then he was at his own, but Elizabeth was an intelligent and perceptive person. Although she had none of the advantages of Caroline Bingley—who had gone to a fine school in London, and had had the benefit of an array of tutors and instructors—she was nevertheless in possession of a superior mind.
Darcy recalled a joke Elizabeth had made when he and Elizabeth had encountered Caroline and Mrs. Hurst upon a path at Netherfield. The path was not wide enough for the four of them, and Darcy had suggested that they take a broader path to permit Elizabeth to join them. Elizabeth objected, saying she had no wish to spoil the grouping, referring, Darcy knew, to the grouping of three cattle favored by the landscape artist, Gilpin. The joke had gone over Caroline’s head, and Darcy had realized at that moment that the advantage in wit belonged to Miss Bennet.
Miss Bennet had been at Netherfield visiting her sister Jane who was ill. Darcy remembered how Elizabeth showed up one morning, her face flushed with the exercise, and her hem caked with mud. She had walked alone the three miles from Longbourn to see her sister, to the astonishment—and disapproval—of the Bingley sisters.
But Darcy had seen it as a testament to her independence of mind, her courage, and most of all her love for her sister. He knew he would walk through three miles of mud to see Georgiana if she was ill. He recognized and admired the affection that Elizabeth had for Jane, and the matter-of-fact way she set out to see her.
Of course, he had already been attracted to Elizabeth. The first time he laid eyes on her, at the assembly in Meryton, he had been struck by her beauty and liveliness. That had been the reason for his remark that there were no ladies present handsome enough to tempt him. That statement, for all its rudeness, had been merely his reflexive defense to the profound attraction he felt.
His purpose in attending the assembly at Meryton had been solely to keep an eye on Bingley. Darcy would’ve considered the evening to have been a great success had he been able to pass it without engaging with any person present, save to the extent politeness required. The plan had failed utterly. It was several months past, and he still could not get Elizabeth Bennet from his thoughts.
“Mr. Darcy, you are so quiet,” Caroline said. “You must enter into the spirit of the season. Are you not pleased to be going to Rosings Park?”
“I should be more pleased to stay in London,” said Darcy honestly. “But I have a matter to take up with Lady Catherine.”
“I’m sure she would not deny her favorite nephew anything he wished,” said Caroline. “I promise that I will make it my mission to see that you have a festive holiday.”
“You may do as you see fit,” Darcy said. “I would not deprive you of any of the season’s festivities,” he said this abruptly, and she looked at him a moment before smiling and turning her attention back to the others.
Yes, Netherfield in the spring. They would call at Longbourn. Bingley would be well received there, of that Darcy was certain. He would have another chance to prevail upon Elizabeth to read his letter, the letter which explained all. He touched the breast pocket of his coat where he always kept the letter against the chance that he would encounter her. The letter was a talisman or symbol that did not so much comfort him as remind him of what he had lost, and what he hoped yet to gain.
He must put Miss Bennet from his thoughts. He had more pressing matters to which he must attend.
But Darcy kept his hand pressed against his breast pocket, over his heart.
Chapter 5, Rosings Park
December 19, 1812
The distance from Longbourn to Rosings Park was about fifty miles and was an easy trip only for the wealthy, Elizabeth reflected as Lady Catherine’s carriage conveyed them through the rolling countryside of Kent.
She recalled Mr. Darcy describing it as a very easy distance, being not more than a half day’s journey over good roads.
It was little more than a half day’s journey due to Lady Catherine for, not only had she sent a private carriage for them, but they had stopped at posts along the way to change horses and therefore enjoyed the benefit of fresh, fast stock which could keep up a brisk pace.
But still, although they had left Longbourn just after first light, and made good time all the way—notwithstanding that they had taken time for refreshments at each of the stops—dusk was descending as the short December day was ending. The brown fields past which they whisked sparkled with frost as they were struck by the last rays of the setting sun. Elizabeth could see a pale gibbous moon above the horizon.
This cold scene she observed through the carriage window, filled her with a sense, not of melancholy but excitement. She felt an eager feeling of anticipation, but for what she could not say.
The rest of the party did not feel the same way. They had exhausted themselves along the way, discussing their expectations endlessly, speculating on the various diversions and opportunities which the visit would afford.
There were many dinners and diversions promised, including on Christmas Eve the unveiling of the newly gilded cupola, although how they would see it in the dark Elizabeth did not know.
In Longbourn, Christmas Eve was a time to remember the poor who would come wassailing at the door to receive gifts of money and cups of hot punch. Elizabeth could not help thinking that Lady Catherine kept Christmas in a very different way than the Bennets.
Mrs. Bennet was dozing fitfully, waking from time to time and looking about as though to see if they’d arrived at their destination and then, when she detected they were still in motion, settling back down to sleep. Jane had been doing needlework, but in the failing light, she had it resting on her lap and was looking out the window with a vacant expression. Mary was reading a book of sermons, and Kitty was sound asleep and had been for the last hour.
The carriage swayed along over the rutted road. The notion of “good” road was a subjective one, Elizabeth decided, for although all the roads so far had been uniformly passable, and the ones near London had been quite good, many were such that a lesser conveyance would have jolted them quite badly. Lady Catherine’s carriage, however, was solidly built and well-sprung so that it navigated the ruts and gullies with some semblance of decorum, swaying and rocking rather than bouncing and shaking as the carriages Elizabeth had traveled in on her last journey when she had traveled post had done.
“Do you know how much further it is?” Jane whispered, leaning forward. She was seated across from Elizabeth.
Elizabeth couldn’t recognize the landmarks; there was not much to distinguish one field from another. But she had a vague recollection of the times traveled, and she knew Lady Catherine had arranged for their arrival before nightfall; it was dangerous to travel by night through the countryside unless the moon was full.
“Nearly there, I should think. We’re the better part of an hour past Westerham,” Elizabeth said, keeping her voice low so as not to wake those who were sleeping. “I believe we have about half that much further to go.”
“Oh,” said Jane. “We shall soon be there then. Are you excited, Lizzy? I feel as though I should be, but to be honest, I feel a bit afraid. I know I shouldn’t be, but I do not know what to expect. I do not think that the assemblies at Meryton have prepared me sufficiently for the society in which we are to mix.”
Elizabeth recalled the slights and snide remarks which had been visited upon her and her family from Caroline Bingley and Caroline’s sister Mrs. Hurst. She supposed that they could expect similar treatment from the fine ladies who would doubtless be in attendance at Rosings Park.
But on the other hand, their brother, Mr. Bingley had been quite polite to them, at least until Mr. Darcy had worked his mischief on the young gentleman’s affections.
“Do not worry about fitting in, Jane. Our advantage shall be in our number. And if that fails, Mary shall give them a sermon.”
Mary frowned at this and glanced up at them from her book as though she wished to say something sensible but knew not how.
Elizabeth recalled how it was it was at Rosings Park that she had learned of Mr. Darcy’s interference in the relationship of Mr. Bingley and her sister Jane.
She had been on a ramble within the park as was her custom, when she had encountered Mr. Darcy’s cousin, Col. Fitzwilliam. Col. Fitzwilliam was the son of an Earl, but as pleasant and agreeable companion as one could wish for. He had none of the proud air or haughty mien Mr. Darcy displayed.
Col. Fitzwilliam had informed her—not realizing that she was a member of the very family involved in the unfortunate matter—that Mr. Darcy had interceded between Mr. Bingley and a young lady to prevent him from entering into a very imprudent marriage. Mr. Darcy, according to his cousin, had some very strong objections to the young lady. Col. Fitzwilliam did not know that the young lady whom Mr. Darcy had strong objections to was her sister, Jane.
Elizabeth regarded Jane, who had turned to the carriage window, perhaps hoping that she would soon glimpse the great house to which they were bound.
That anyone—much less Mr. Darcy! —could have “strong objections” to Jane was inconceivable. Jane was the soul of kindness, and her character was all goodness and pleasantness. Her sister was as good as she was beautiful and if this was not unique in the world, it certainly was a rare thing and worthy of praise, not disparagement.
And it was after this interference no less, after ruining Jane’s chances with the man she loved, that the rogue had had the impudence to make a proposal of marriage to Elizabeth.
Oh, he made no secret of the fact that she was beneath him, and that her family was such that the match was an unfortunate one from his standpoint, but that having wrestled against his better judgment, and despairing of prevailing, he had found himself reduced to asking for Elizabeth’s hand.
