Chapter Twenty-Two #2
“Last summer, I never imagined I would be spending Christmas like this.” She glanced up at him, a shy smile playing on her lips. “In such a beautiful place with all of the people I love.”
Darcy’s heart skipped a beat. He knew she loved him, but to hear her say it . . . it had not lost any of its power to affect him. He did not think it ever would.
They came upon a small pond, its frozen surface glittering in the weak winter sunlight. Darcy guided her to a nearby bench that had been cleared of snow.
“May I?” he asked, gesturing to the seat beside her. At her nod, he sat down, careful to maintain a proper distance, though his body yearned to be closer.
A comfortable silence fell between them.
Darcy reached out to take her hand in his, and she did not protest. Unfortunately, a gust of wind sent a shower of snow from a nearby branch cascading over them at just that moment.
Miss Elizabeth let out a surprised laugh and stood to shake the snow from her bonnet.
Without thinking, Darcy stood to assist, reaching out to brush a few errant snowflakes from her cheek. His hand lingered a moment too long, and when she looked up and met his gaze, he found himself unable to look away.
“We should probably return to the house,” Miss Elizabeth whispered, though she made no move to leave.
“Yes,” Darcy agreed, equally motionless.
For a heartbeat, the world around them seemed to hold its breath. Then, gathering his courage, Darcy leaned in slowly, giving her every opportunity to pull away. Instead, Miss Elizabeth tilted her face up to meet his, and their lips met in a soft, sweet kiss, heavy with promise.
When they parted, both were blushing furiously, but Miss Elizabeth’s eyes shone with happiness, and Darcy suspected that his own were betraying a similar sentiment.
He took a breath and offered his arm once more.
“Shall we, Miss Elizabeth? I believe we should collect a bit more holly for the garland committee.”
After gathering more of the holly using Mr. Darcy’s penknife to cut the sprigs, they agreed to end their time out-of-doors.
As they entered the house and divested themselves of their coats, Elizabeth could just make out the strains of a carol as it drifted out to greet them.
Mary had barely left the new pianoforte, even to sleep.
“It seems the music has begun without us,” Elizabeth observed.
Darcy winced slightly. “I confess, I have never been one for singing.”
She could not help but smile. Her father had a terrible voice, as did Mary, but it had never stopped either from singing carols. “Come now, Mr. Darcy. Surely you cannot resist the appeal of a carol sung together with family?”
As they stood in the hall, they were enveloped in the warmth and cheer of the festive season. The entrance hall was bedecked with garlands, and Elizabeth imagined she could detect the scent of nutmeg and ginger wafting from the direction of the kitchens.
In the music room, they found a lively scene.
Georgiana—who had insisted they dispense with formal titles once she learned of her brother's proposal—sat at the pianoforte, accompanying the singers. Each of Elizabeth’s sisters stood beside one of their Gardiner cousins, the children fully swept up in the merriment, their little voices rising above the rest as they serenaded the rest of the family.
An hour passed in a whirl of music and laughter before Mr. Darcy was called away. Elizabeth lingered by the hearth, though she turned to survey the room. It was almost magical, having so many of her family here.
Mr. Darcy returned a quarter of an hour later, his expression softened by the joy of the day. “I wonder if you would like to accompany me on an errand?” he asked quietly.
“Of course,” she replied and took his arm. She was curious, but did not press him to explain.
When they arrived at the front of the house, he helped her into her warm coat and cloak and escorted her out the doors. When they emerged from the house, he gestured towards the sleigh that awaited them.
“My driver brought the sledge,” he said with a smile. “Mrs. Reynolds also thought the children would like it, and unlike me, she knew precisely where it was to be found.”
Elizabeth smiled, taking his offered arm, and together they stepped out into the frosty air. The sleigh was piled with parcels of firewood and food, stood ready.
The horses snorted impatiently as Mr. Darcy helped her into the seat. “It is not far,” he said, settling beside her, “but I thought this might be a pleasant way to make an important delivery.”
Elizabeth laughed softly. “What delivery might that be, Fitzwilliam?”
He helped her into the sleigh. Then he took his own place, clicked the reins, and the sleigh began to move, its runners gliding smoothly over the snow.
The rhythmic sound of the horses’ hooves and the jingle of their harnesses filled the air as they traveled, the chill of the evening balanced by the warmth of the blankets tucked around them.
They soon crossed onto Pemberley land and arrived at a small cottage with a newly thatched roof. Mr. Darcy halted the sleigh, and together, they gathered the parcels of food and firewood and made their way to the door.
An elderly man opened the door slowly, his face lighting up with surprise at the sight of his visitors. "Mr. Darcy! What brings you here in such weather?"
"We thought you could use a bit of extra warmth, Mr. Adams,” Darcy said, gesturing to the provisions. "And I thought you might like to meet my betrothed, Miss Bennet."
The old man smiled gratefully, his eyes misting over. "Well now. Congratulations to you both! Miss Bennet, it is a pleasure. Please come in."
As they stepped inside, Elizabeth could not help but notice how sparse the little cottage was, but there was a fire burning cheerily in the hearth.
Mr. Darcy set the wood near the fireplace, and she placed the basket of food on the little table in the corner.
Mr. Adams thanked them profusely and offered them both a spot near the fire.
He had only the one chair, so Elizabeth politely declined, and they all stood and chatted for a few minutes.
Mr. Darcy spoke little, but Elizabeth could tell by the way he listened to the older man that he felt deeply for Mr. Adams's situation.
As they rode back toward Hollydale, Elizabeth stole a few glances at Mr. Darcy when she believed he was not looking. She did not think she could be happier to be promised to such a man, for he was not only strong and capable, but also had a compassionate heart.
"Thank you, Fitzwilliam," she said softly, leaning against his shoulder, and though she did not elaborate, he seemed to understand.
The saloon was aglow with warmth and cheer.
The Yule log crackled merrily in the fireplace, casting dancing shadows on the floor.
The remains of a sumptuous Christmas pudding lay on a nearby table, evidence of the feast they had all enjoyed before she slipped away.
The adults lazed contentedly on various chairs and sofas, pleasantly weary from the day's activities.
Darcy's hand moved towards his pocket, but before he could retrieve its contents, a gasp of surprise from Miss Lydia woke them all from their stupor. Everyone turned to see Mr. Bennet holding a sprig of mistletoe over Mrs. Bennet's head, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
“My dear,” he said, “you owe me a kiss. But first, you must take one of the berries, as tradition dictates.”
Mrs. Bennet laughed. “You know very well it is the man who hands a berry to the woman for a kiss, Thomas.”
“Do you trust me?” he asked seriously.
His wife hesitated, but then nodded. “Yes. I do.”
“Then take a berry, my dear.”
Mrs. Bennet reached up to pluck a berry from the sprig. Her laughter turned to a gasp of her own as she realised it was not a berry at all, but a luminous pearl.
Mr. Bennet cleared his throat, his voice soft but carrying clearly in the hushed room.
“My Fanny, pearls are said to be the tears of the gods. We have shared many of them over the years, both sad and joyful.” He produced a thin gold chain from his breast pocket and slipped it through the clasp at the top of the pearl.
“This is to remind you of all we have been through together.” His voice grew warmer as he continued, “But more importantly, it is to celebrate the happy times to come—our daughters finding their paths, grandchildren to spoil, and many more years of laughter and love between us.”
Mrs. Bennet's eyes glistened as she touched her forehead to her husband’s, and everyone applauded. In the commotion, Darcy discreetly slid his hand out of his pocket, empty.
As the excitement settled and the evening drew to its inevitable close, Darcy approached Mr. Bennet. “Sir, might I have a private word with Miss Elizabeth in the library?”
Mr. Bennet raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Elizabeth is to be back in this room in a quarter of an hour with every hair in place.”
Darcy inclined his head and went to collect his betrothed.
When they had reached the library, and Miss Elizabeth regarded him with an expectant smile, he said, “Miss Elizabeth, I must confess I had a similar idea to your father.” He produced a small box from his pocket.
“Though I fear my presentation was not as timely and I have not prepared an eloquent speech.”
Miss Elizabeth took the box and lifted the lid.
Inside was a delicate necklace of rubies, with a bit of the holly sprig he had plucked during their walk nestled alongside. He had arranged it so the rubies shone in the place of the berries she so admired.
She gasped. “But I thought you had given the holly to the girls for their garlands!”
“All but one. I had intended to present this earlier, but after your father's gesture . . .” He shook his head. “I had no wish to compete when he had already won the field.”
Elizabeth's eyes shone as she looked up at him. “It is beautiful.”
“You like it, then? I did not know whether you might prefer a more substantial piece, but I thought it might be a little like gilding the lily.”
“That is an inaccurate quoting of Shakespeare, you know.”
“Yes, I know,” he said with a touch of exasperation. “Forgive me for attempting to compliment you.”
She smiled. “You are so easy to fluster. I would not have guessed it.”
Only she could fluster him like this, but he would not admit it, or she would be forever making attempts. Darcy took a deep breath. “You have not answered my question. Do you like it?”
Miss Elizabeth cast him a look he could only call incredulous. “Mr. Darcy, not only do I like it, but I also adore the compliment that came with it. Will you put it on for me?”
Darcy swallowed, recalling her father’s admonition.
Not a hair out of place. He took the necklace from her and opened the clasp.
Miss Elizabeth faced away from him and lifted her hair away from the nape of her neck.
Unfortunately, this made the front of her gown gape a bit and he could see down . . .
Steady, he told himself, squeezing his eyes shut. If his fingers so much as brushed her skin, he was done for. He opened his eyes long enough to fasten the necklace and allow it to drop, making her stifle a laugh as she reached up to arrange it properly.
Darcy took a step back and felt a little safer. “They reminded me of the holly berries you admired, and of the warmth and passion you bring to everything you do,” he explained, his voice low and earnest.
“Mr. Darcy . . . Fitzwilliam.”
His heart leapt—he was not yet used to her using his Christian name.
“When I first learned of my inheritance, I thought it a great blessing, but I never imagined it would lead me here.”
“To Derbyshire?” he asked, still a little befuddled.
Elizabeth—surely, he could use her name now that she was using his—huffed with amusement.
“Yes, of course, but I meant to you.” She paused, gathering her thoughts.
“This necklace, Hollydale, they are wonderful gifts. But what we have found, this understanding between us, the promise of a life together . . . It is beyond anything I ever dreamed. I love Hollydale because it allows me to care for my family, but I love it even more because it brought me to you.”