Chapter 6 #3
“No, that is too much. You will likely have more occasion to wear it than I will back in Hertfordshire,” Elizabeth insisted, although she was already imagining wearing it to the winter assembly in place of the yellow silk gown, with yards of lace from head to toe that her mother had pulled out of the closet just before she left, indicating she would remake it for the occasion.
“I will insist Edward purchase new gowns for me next season, so you will, in fact, be doing me a favour by taking this one,” her aunt assured her. Guiding Elizabeth to turn around, she began to unbutton her stays. “Now let Anna take some measurements so she may have it ready in time.”
Several days later, Amelia and her nurse waved goodbye as the rest of the family made their way to their carriage.
Despite Elizabeth’s pleas to the contrary, Amelia was not permitted to accompany them to the Christmas Eve dinner at Pemberley.
It was the first time the Gardiners had left her for an entire evening.
As they entered Pemberley’s foyer—decked out with holly, mistletoe, boughs and candles—the party was eager to celebrate with their friends, but each also felt that slight tug towards home and the baby who remained there.
“Lizzy, it is so wonderful to have you here for the holidays,” Georgiana said.
The girls sat side by side on the settee across from the Gardiners.
“I am happy to be spending more time with you,” Elizabeth agreed. “I was beginning to think of you all like some sort of fantastical summer fairies who existed only when the weather was warm and the landscape in bloom.”
“Are you disappointed to have your fanciful supposition proven wrong?” Mr. Darcy asked.
“A little,” she teased. “It would have been nice to be on intimate terms with fairies.”
They all laughed at this and began to ascribe fairy-like traits to each of Pemberley’s residents.
“Mr. Barlow, too, must fall under this magical suspicion,” Darcy insisted after Mrs. Gardiner suggested that Georgiana’s fairy power would be healing those around her with her musical gifts. The young girl blushed at this, clearly pleased with the idea.
“It is true,” Elizabeth agreed, smiling at Darcy and losing a moment or two in her answer as he smiled back at her, his dark brown eyes lightening as he regarded her with eager expectation.
It was gratifying to know that even though he clearly thought of her as a sister or a perpetual friend, he enjoyed their repartee almost as much as she did.
“I had not yet seen him outside of these environs, so he could be a summer fairy as well.”
“What about our correspondence?” Mr. Barlow asked with a chuckle. “Surely that provides some proof that I exist outside of the summer months?”
“Yes, quite so,” Georgiana seconded. “Me as well. We must exchange several letters a month all year.”
“That is true. It seems as my most faithful correspondents are situated in this territory, I must concede that they do exist, at least in some form, all year. However,” she added, turning back to Darcy with a sly grin.
“As I have never heard from you during the year, you are still suspected of being without corporeal form outside of the summer months.”
“Even though you see me now before you?” Darcy challenged.
Elizabeth could be forgiven for taking an extra moment to look him up and down as he had practically invited her to do so.
“I suppose, but that just leads me to rethink the nature of the magic. Could it be you exist only when I am here?”
“That is a reasonable supposition,” Darcy said. “To dispel it, I will have to include my own notes when my father and sister write to you to convince you that I, like them, exist in other times and places.”
“An ingenious solution,” Elizabeth answered, thankful her voice sounded normal while inside she was shrieking with delight. She did not think any of the gifts arrayed by the fire could outdo this one—the promise of a correspondence of sorts with her Darcy.
Although it must be said the gifts were lovely and very much appreciated on both sides.
Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Barlow each received a decanter of French brandy from Mr. Darcy.
Sly looks were exchanged, but no one actually asked how he had obtained the contraband, given the restrictions on the import of French goods.
Mr. Darcy gifted Mrs. Gardiner a bottle of her favourite perfume which likely came via the same unacknowledged shipment, as it was a French product as well.
“Credit must be given to your husband for sharing your preference,” Mr. Darcy told her.
“Then I offer my thanks to you both.”
“Open mine,” Lizzy urged Georgiana, handing her a small package wrapped in brown paper and tied with red ribbon and a sprig of holly.
“It is almost too beautiful to open.”
“And yet you must,” Elizabeth insisted.
Elizabeth had agonised over Georgiana’s gift for weeks as she perused the sparse offerings in Meryton. Then, on a trip to the bookshop in Lambton soon after her arrival, she found it.
“How lovely,” Georgiana exclaimed as she carefully removed the book from the paper. It was revealed to be a light red leather-bound journal with blank off-white pages.
“When I was your age, my aunt gave me a similar book so that I could write down things I might want to remember later and any silly thoughts that ran through my head. I am grateful she started the habit of writing in me.” Elizabeth shared a fond look with her aunt before turning back to her friend.
“Of course, you can use it in any way you want. Since you are already such a gifted artist, perhaps you will sketch things in your pages.”
“Thank you, Lizzy. It is perfect. The very first thing I shall sketch is you!”
Next, Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy opened the gifts they had gotten one another. Books for both of them. When he opened his, Mr. Darcy looked at Elizabeth in question.
“Given your daughter’s interest in the genre, I thought you’d like to familiarise yourself with the basic texts,” Elizabeth said by way of answer.
When the others asked what book she had gifted him, he held it up for all to see.
“The Mysteries of Udolpho,” Mrs. Gardiner exclaimed with a laugh.
“I look forward to discussing it with you,” Elizabeth told him with a prim nod.
“Will you read it, Father?” Georgiana asked, all eager anticipation.
“I suppose I must,” he sighed.
“I have no doubt you will enjoy it,” Darcy offered.
“You have read it?” Elizabeth asked with marked incredulity.
Though he blushed slightly, Darcy held her gaze as he responded, “Stephen recommended it.”
“Well, that explains it,” Georgiana teased. “Fitzwilliam will do anything Stephen tells him to.”
Before Darcy could protest, as he looked ready to, his father handed Elizabeth a package. She untied the ribbon and peeled back the paper.
“The Vicar of Wakefield. I mentioned wanting to read this only recently.” Elizabeth stroked the cover reverently. “You are so very thoughtful. Thank you so much.”
“I shall expect a letter with your thoughts before the end of January,” he told her.
“I don’t think gifts are supposed to come with assignments and deadlines,” Darcy observed.
“For others, perhaps,” Elizabeth responded. “But for me, the greater part of the gift is your father’s willingness to discuss our readings together, share with me his wisdom and listen patiently to my thoughts and ideas.”
Mr. Darcy’s chest puffed up slightly at this, and Darcy too looked pleased with her answer.
“Well then, I suppose we must offer Miss Elizabeth an assignment to go with our gift,” Darcy said to Georgiana.
Elizabeth’s heart skipped more than one beat at his words.
Our gift? Darcy was nodding at Georgiana, who fidgeted a little before retrieving a piece of paper from the table beside her.
She turned and handed it to Elizabeth with a shy smile.
Lizzy felt a swoop of excitement at the air of mystery that seemed to surround this paper and at the looks being given her by the entire party.
It was clear everyone knew what her gift was.
Smiling back at Georgiana, she took the paper.
It was a thick white sheet folded in half, presumably to conceal its contents.
Carefully, she opened it. Inside, across both sides of the fold, was a pencil sketch of a horse.
From the level of detail, she could tell he was beautiful, with a long flowing mane, a regal bearing and a strong build.
Georgiana had drawn him as if he was looking at her, a short tuft of mane falling over one eye, his head bent slightly towards a patch of grass in the foreground.
“He looks regal,” Elizabeth said after staring at the drawing for a minute. “You are a truly gifted artist. I will seek out a frame for the picture when I get home. It will remind me of our love of riding together and of you and of Pemberley. Thank you.”
“What a nice speech.” Georgiana giggled. “And I know you meant every word, but of course this scrap is not the gift.”
“It is not a scrap, “Elizabeth insisted. “It is a work of art.”
“Be that as it may,” Darcy interrupted before his sister could retort. “The horse is not a she at all, but a he and HE is the gift.”
It took a moment for Elizabeth to comprehend Darcy’s meaning and for more than the usual reasons.
“This horse is real?”
“Yes,” Mr. Darcy laughed. “He very much is. He was born to one of the mares at Matlock House last spring, and we have intended him for you since that time but knew he would not be ready to be trained for riding until this coming summer. And so, he will be moved to Pemberley, where he will be available for your exclusive use this May.”
“He is yours, Lizzy!” Georgiana exclaimed when Elizabeth seemed unable to respond. “He will live in Pemberley’s stables, and you can ride him all summer!”
“I . . . “ she stared at the drawing, tracing the horse’s lines with her finger. “What is he called?”
“They are calling him junior,” Darcy told her. “You can name him whatever you like.”