Chapter 16
Belper
Derbyshire
The wheels of the carriage rattled as they passed from dusty road to cobbled street, the horses clopping pleasantly ahead of them.
Darcy swayed slightly and glanced down at his sister beside him.
She was looking out the window, her eyes sparkling with pleasure at the sight of numerous quaint houses and shops.
A lovely stone church rolled into view, and Darcy eyed it approvingly as they went by.
Across from them, Miss Bennet made soft exclamations of delight at the charming town. Miss Bingley, on the other hand, seemed more bored than interested while Mrs. Annesley, seated on the other side of Miss Bennet, knitted placidly.
Only five members of the house party had made the journey to Belper this morning.
Bingley, currently visiting the estate of Greymond in Derbyshire with a view to purchasing it, was not available and Anne Fitzwilliam, still feeling delicate and tired, had opted to remain at home and rest. Louisa Hurst, too, had remained at Pemberley, unenthused about riding in the carriage for three hours for the sole purpose of buying toys for tenant children.
Mrs. Hurst was, at least, more honest than her sister, Darcy thought sardonically.
Miss Bingley was covering her palpable contempt for the task with a saccharine sweetness that was directed primarily at himself, which only annoyed him.
Darcy was far more impressed with Miss Bennet, who was even now consulting a piece of paper she held carefully in one tan-gloved hand.
Lists were written neatly across it in two very different hands; he recognized his sister’s, which made the other Miss Bennet’s.
She even had beautiful handwriting, he thought admiringly.
Elizabeth Bennet and Georgiana had compiled the list of presents for the farmers’ children, and Darcy was struck anew with her kindness.
Richard was right; Miss Bennet was a wonderful lady who also appeared to have no interest in him as a prospective groom.
He was arrogant to think that a single sign from him would bring her to his feet.
Though she conversed easily with him, and laughed at him, and teased him, she displayed none of the simpering flirtation which he was so used to receiving from eligible young women.
Miss Bennet paid Georgiana far more attention than she did the master of Pemberley, in marked contrast to Caroline Bingley, who hung on his every word and batted her lashes and flattered him at every opportunity.
Miss Bennet was refreshing in that she did none of this, but that very lack of marked attention also indicated that she did not share Miss Bingley’s attraction to him, and that was a sobering thought.
“Brother, shall we descend to the street?” Georgiana asked, breaking into his thoughts.
Darcy jerked in surprise and turned toward the door, only to discover that the carriage had come to a halt and a manservant had opened the door and was waiting. “My apologies. I was wool gathering.”
He stepped down and handed out the ladies one by one, noting the warm thrill in his entire body when Miss Bennet accepted his assistance and briefly placed her gloved hand in his own before achieving the ground, whereupon she released it without so much as a lingering touch.
This was, of course, very different from Caroline Bingley, who clutched his hand with fervor, and then snagged his left arm as the party made their way toward the front door of a toy shop.
He was, he realized, in love with Elizabeth Bennet.
But Richard was correct. He needed to be certain that he could respect her in spite of her doubtful connections and vulgar relations.
Moreover, if he decided to proceed, he would need to woo the lady, and he had not the slightest idea how to do that.
***
Chapel at Pemberley
Christmas Day, 1812
Darcy looked around the box allotted to his family, his heart full and warm.
He still remembered the previous year, when he had sat here in cold isolation while Georgiana recovered from the mumps.
Now the Darcy box was filled – not to capacity, for it was large, but enough so that everyone could sit comfortably without being crowded or too far from their neighbor.
Today, the blocks for warming feet were being shared, between himself and his sister, between Bingley and his younger sister, between the Hursts – sitting on the opposite side of the box, and beside them, Mrs. Annesley and Miss Bennet shared the last one.
The women all had their hands buried in their muffs, but Darcy, remembering how chill and lonely it had been the previous year, could only be grateful for the companionship and extra heat from so many people sitting so close together.
Beside him, Georgiana sat attentively watching the rector.
Darcy knew he ought to be doing the same as the man delivered the Christmas message, but he was distracted by Miss Bennet, who sat directly opposite to him, looking enchantingly lovely in a dark green woolen dress, the simplicity of which only accentuated her piquant face and dark hair.
She was not looking at him, but sat with her eyes solemnly closed, her full focus on the message of the rector behind her.
Darcy sat watching her, admiring her earnest piety and the Christian kindness he saw about her so often.
After a moment, guilt crept up on him, and he turned his gaze to the rector and his attention to the sermon.
“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by him; and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. And the light shineth in darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not.”
Just like the previous year, his eyes drifted over to the Nativity window, and he examined the glass depiction of the infant Jesus.
A solemn joy filled his soul as he reflected on the life of God-as-man, how the Architect of the entire world had descended to compact Himself into the body of a tiny baby, grown up – through teething pains and growing pains and adolescence – into adulthood, preaching to all of Israel and preparing disciples to go out into all the world, before going willingly to a terrible death.
And then a triumphant rise from a grave that could not hold its Maker, a final proof of a love too great to be truly comprehended by a finite human mind.
Nor did that great Love stop there. It invited people closer, invited people to ask for further gifts. A verse came to mind;
If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.
Darcy did not remember the precise reference, only that it was from the first chapter of the Epistle of James.
He pondered it a long moment and closed his eyes to say a quick prayer.
He thanked the Lord for His great gift, which started the Christmas season.
A deep breath followed, along with a quick peek across the pew box.
Darcy closed his eyes again and continued, asking for wisdom and guidance in the matter of Miss Bennet.
He truly did not know what to do. He had never – never – encountered a woman more enchanting, more perfect for him in every respect of her person and personality.
It was only the happenstances of birth that stood between them; she, born the second daughter of an indolent country squire, the estate entailed away from herself and her sisters, with no great prospects in life.
Darcy himself was her opposite; wealthy, well-connected, much sought after on the marriage mart, the nephew of an earl, with a name nearly as old as England herself.
And yet, she was vibrant, well-educated, charitable, arch and teasing, generous and with a heart for the tenants that he had rarely seen among the gentry, along with being knowledgeable about the work required in the running of an estate.
She was sweet and patient with his shy younger sister, and Georgiana already loved her.
She was, in many ways, his perfect match.
But his own personal feelings could not outweigh what he owed his name, his family, and his position.
So Darcy remained caught in indecision, uneasily conscious of the ever-approaching date of Miss Bennet’s departure from Pemberley.
Could he really bear to let her go without even a hint of his true feelings? Should he?
***
Pemberley Estate
Boxing Day
26th December, 1812
Cold nipped at Elizabeth’s nose and stung her eyes as she squinted merrily at the white snow around them.
Georgiana was a welcome warmth against her side, both of them tucked up firmly beneath layers of rugs and furs.
The bells on the horses’ harnesses jingled, filling the air with cheery fairy-like ringing, as the sleigh sped over the crisp, newly fallen snow.
Across from the two girls, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley sat side by side, also wrapped warmly and with a hot brick at their feet.
Almost every other available inch in the sleigh was taken up with packages and parcels, piled on the seats and spilling over the floorboards and stacked carefully against the sides of the sleigh.
Baskets and hampers of food and folded blankets and brown-paper-wrapped parcels tied with twine by careful toy store clerks and clothes knitted and sewn and purchased, all pushed into wherever was big enough to hold them.