The Key to Christmas #2
She’d endured Christmas Eve supper and church with as much grace as she could, and often found herself enjoying the games played with the children.
There were four of them, two girls and two boys, ranging in age from about half of Georgiana’s sixteen years all the way down to little Phillip, who was three.
They were lively, bright children, and the Gardiners were easy, cheery guests.
They all grated on Georgiana.
At dinner, she had argued for exchanging gifts on the Twelfth Night, but the Gardiners would not remain until then, and the children were eager for Christmas Day. Fitzwilliam, after giving Georgiana a confused look, had assured everyone that gifts would be exchanged on the twenty-fifth.
The clock on her mantel ticked. The candles she’d lit burned low.
Georgiana stared at the blank page atop her desk.
With her free hand, she toyed with the pretty silver key she’d traded for with the tinker.
She could not give it to her brother, for it would be a passing odd gift, but it was pretty.
She’d tied her other blue ribbon to it, as she no longer had a matched set.
Her eyelids heavy, she continued to toy with the key, her gaze fixed on the glaringly blank page before her…
…the clock chimed, jolting Georgiana awake. She sat up, the blank page on which her face rested sticking to her cheek. With a grimace, she pulled the page away.
She stood, stretching. She would simply tell Fitzwilliam that she’d ordered his gift but it had not arrived. Or that she wished to present it without an audience of Gardiners.
She reached to snuff one of the final two candles, the others having burned out, and realized she clutched the silver key in her hand.
To any door, at the mid of night, to open up, a quester’s rite.
The words echoed in her head. Her gaze went to her bedroom door. It would be silly to put the key in the lock and use it to open her door.
But she was alone in her room, and the clock still chimed, counting up to twelve, ringing out the hour. Georgiana crossed and applied the key. Feeling both silly and hopeful, she opened her bedroom door.
***
Georgiana blinked. It was Pemberley.
And yet, it was not.
Everything was made of glass, or perhaps, given the subtle dance of colors along every surface, crystal.
Craning her neck, she took in her bedroom. Wooden furniture. Linen sheets. Softly woven carpet. She turned back to the hallway before her.
Crystal, hard, gleaming, faintly glowing crystal. The floorboard, the runner, the sconces, even the flames in the sconces, which gave off light but did not move. Crystal.
She swallowed, trembling. She should close the door.
Close the door, throw away the key, and pretend she had never seen any of this.
Surely, seeing a crystal hallway meant she was going mad.
Mad from struggling so valiantly to compose.
Many composers and artists suffered such a fate for their craft.
She simply had not thought such madness could come on so quickly.
“…a quester’s rite,” she murmured. Did that make her a quester? And what could she be questing for if not the perfect gift for Fitzwilliam?
Her heart taking up a dizzying beat, she stepped into the hallway. Behind her, her bedroom door closed with a click.
Georgiana whirled and tried the handle. The door wouldn’t open. It was locked. Frantic, she rattled it. Crystal struck crystal, the sound like angry bells.
She squeezed her eyes closed, struggling for even breaths. She was not trapped. She had, foolishly, left her key to her room inside, but Mrs. Reynolds had a second set. A key to every door in Pemberley. Georgiana need only go to the housekeeper’s room and find the key to hers.
The hallway was silent but as she descended the crystal staircase, a breathtaking sight even amidst her fear, laughter echoed.
Georgiana looked about. Something caught at the corner of her vision, then something more.
Everywhere she looked was crystal, but somewhere inside the cold stone, just out of hearing and sight, she sensed the Gardiner children and their parents.
Fitzwilliam. Elizabeth. The sounds of a cheery, happy gathering for Christmas.
She started down the main hallway, but paused when clear voices reached her.
Turning, she looked into the small parlor where she and Fitzwilliam always used to sit, before Elizabeth came to Pemberley and then invited her relations.
The little parlor had a single pine bough above the fireplace, their usual concession to the season since their parents had died.
Seated on the two settees there, fractured as if they were reflections born out of the crystals, were Georgiana and Fitzwilliam.
He in dour black and she wore the gown she intended to wear for Christmas.
Fitzwilliam passed her a parcel. “I got new sheet music for you.”
The Georgiana before her passed one back. “I got you a book.”
This was their usual Christmas tradition, which Elizabeth had interrupted.
They smiled at one another and Georgiana’s heart warmed. This was all she wanted from Christmas.
The fragmented, mirrored Georgiana cheerfully tore open her gift, eager to see what new music she had received. Georgiana’s smile grew. She glanced at Fitzwilliam to see if he liked his book.
His hands pulled back the paper but his gaze was fixed on nothing, on a spot somewhere past reflected-Georgiana’s head. Or, perhaps on his own thoughts. She knew not which, but she did know that he appeared sad. Empty.
The moment reflected-Georgiana looked up, her brother replaced his sad look with a smile.
Georgiana frowned. Was that how Fitzwilliam truly felt? Was he sad on Christmas?
Leaving the parlor, she wandered through Pemberley.
All about her, reflected and refracted, two versions of Christmas Day played out.
One where she and Fitzwilliam exchanged their usual gifts and she spent the day practicing new music, until finally they dined alone, and one where Elizabeth and the Gardiners were with them and Pemberley rang with good cheer and laughter.
Curious, Georgiana found the fragmented, unwed version of her brother and followed him.
While she cheerfully practiced her new music, Fitzwilliam sat at his desk alone.
He worked, as he usually did, for much of the day.
At one point, he assembled the staff and gave each of them a bonus to their usual pay.
They all thanked him. Mrs. Reynolds even embraced him, and Pemberley’s butler patted him on the shoulder.
When he left them, they watched him go with sad eyes.
The other Fitzwilliam, the one who had Elizabeth, did not set foot in his study, except to retrieve the same bonuses for the staff.
Elizabeth went with him to hand them out, hugging nearly everyone as they did so, and adding small items she had picked, even though she’d hardly known any of them a month yet.
When they left the staff, everyone was smiling, talking, and laughing.
Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth departed holding hands, and when they reached one of several balls of mistletoe the Gardiner girls had, with many giggles, insisted they hang, Fitzwilliam pulled Elizabeth to him and kissed her.
Georgiana frowned. She understood what the crystal house was telling her. Fitzwilliam was happier now, but she was not. Why did his happiness count for more than hers? Because he was master of Pemberley? That hardly seemed fair.
She swiveled away from the images of a happy Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth. She wanted to see Happy Georgiana, left in peace to play her new music. Fists balled, Georgiana marched away in search of her favorite place. The room that held her pianoforte.
When she reached the music room, no reflected Georgiana waited. Where else could she be?
Oddly frantic, needing to see herself happy, Georgiana whirled. She hurried along the hallway, looking in rooms. Soon, she was running. She searched the house. The cheerful Georgiana was gone.
Desperate to find her happier self, Georgiana finally returned to the music room. It still stood empty. She entered slowly. Going to the crystal pianoforte, she trailed a light finger across the top. Finally, she sat down on the bench.
And she knew why she could not find the other Georgiana. She was that Georgiana. She was alone in a large, empty crystal room with her pianoforte, just as that Georgiana wished to be.
Only, she was not happy.
Calm, yes. Able to do as she pleased? Definitely. But happy… happy to be alone on Christmas with only her music for company?
Suddenly she knew what she must do. She knew how to craft the perfect Christmas gift for Fitzwilliam that would make him happy. She settled her fingers on the keys as the music came to her.
***
The clock chimed, jolting Georgiana awake. She sat up, the page on which her face rested sticking to her cheek. With a grimace, she pulled the page away, and blinked at it, taking in writing on the other side. She flipped it over.
Neatly written scores paraded across the page. These were scores in her hand. The music she’d played on the crystal pianoforte.
She shook her head, taking in the two flickering candles, the others burned out. The clock continued to chime, counting up to twelve. Georgiana lifted her free hand to reach for a fresh candle. Her empty hand.
With a gasp, she swiveled to face her bedroom door.
There was no key in the lock. No key on her desk. No silver key anywhere.
She rushed to her bedroom door. There, pooled on the floor below the keyhole, rested two blue ribbons. With a frown, she scooped them up. They were her ribbons, one tied about the other.
Her hand trembling, she yanked open her bedroom door. Without was Pemberley’s hallway dimly seen by the candlelight spilling from her bedroom door. Not a hint of crystal met her seeking gaze.
Georgiana closed the door. Trembling, she returned to her desk to study the music she’d written. Slowly, she smiled. All that nonsense about crystal Pemberleys and reflected Christmases had obviously been a dream, but she did have the music: the perfect Christmas present for Fitzwilliam.
***
Georgiana was impatient all through church, and through breakfast. She was as eager as the children for the moment they would exchange gifts.
When the time came, she watched with delight as they were passed about.
She even clapped along with the others when the elder Gardiner boy, Edward, spun his new top so well that they could all count to one hundred before it toppled over.
Her only moment of sorrow came when Elizabeth presented Fitzwilliam with a wrapped book. Not because he didn’t appear pleased, but because Georgiana had lied to her new sister. Elizabeth’s song was lovely, and would have made the perfect Christmas gift, almost.
Finally, all other gifts exchanged, Georgiana came to her feet. “I have one more present. It is for you, Fitzwilliam, and to receive it, we must all go to the music room.”
Elizabeth turned to her in surprise.
“The music room?” Fitzwilliam said cheerfully. “This should be a truly splendid surprise. I am certain you have all observed what a gifted performer my sister is.”
Georgiana grinned, unable to contain her joy.
“Indeed, I am only now coming to appreciate how gifted,” Elizabeth murmured, casting Georgiana a hurt look as everyone rose and began to file out of the drawing room where they had been exchanging gifts.
Georgiana caught her new sister back as Fitzwilliam and the Gardiners left the room. “It is not what you think.”
Elizabeth’s eyebrows rose. “That you dissuaded me from singing for your brother so that you could give him a more special gift than I have?”
Heat raced up Georgiana’s cheeks, but she shook her head.
“I admit, that is what I did, but I was wrong to do so.” She sucked in a breath, meeting Elizabeth’s wounded gaze.
“Your song was lovely. Absolutely perfect. It will make my brother fall even more deeply in love with you, assuming that is possible.”
“Will make?” Elizabeth repeated sharply.
Georgiana nodded. “I wrote music for your song. If you will permit me, I would like to accompany you on the pianoforte while you sing.”
Elizabeth’s anger and hurt dissipated like summer rain.
“Oh, but that is wonderful. I had wanted to ask if you would but…” She shook her head.
“That is magnificent. I admit, I was nervous to sing with no accompaniment, but I would never attempt composition. It is quite beyond me. I do not possess your skill.”
Georgiana shook her head, unable not to smile. “It was nearly beyond me as well. In truth, I think it took a touch of Christmas magic.”
“Well, then, let us join your Christmas magic and mine, and give Fitzwilliam a song, from both of us, the perfect Christmas gift.”
THE END