Chapter I #2
“And did anything attract your interest?” asked she as the men matched their pace, walking with them along the street.
Elizabeth noticed, with some amusement, how Mr. Bingley placed himself beside Jane, moving Kitty aside to accomplish his goal, although she did not show any anger at having to give up her position.
“I think Meryton looks nice all dressed up for Christmas,” said Mr. Bingley, nodding toward the colorful branches resting on most of the poles they passed. “This is much nicer than anything you might see in London right now, isn’t it, Darcy?”
“That is a hard question to answer,” said his friend. “As we are not there, I cannot guess how everything looks today.”
“Well, I know how the roads look,” said Mr. Bingley, smiling at Jane as though imparting a long-hidden secret.
“And they are not like the ones in Meryton. Last year, I don’t remember seeing anything more than a sprig or two in the odd shop and nothing outside on the streets.
It was almost as if nobody cared about the day or the reason for celebrating. ”
“But you said they locked the city up tight,” offered Mr. Darcy, a teasing smile crossing his face. “With everything closed, there must have been some sort of celebration or commemoration.”
“I would have thought so,” replied Mr. Bingley, “but people I spoke with did not mention the day, or talk about attending a church service and sharing a special meal afterward. If I didn’t know better, I would have assumed they did not exchange gifts or do anything else in celebration.
At least in Meryton, everyone extends their well-wishes and boughs of Christmas holly adorn the shops. ”
Though he directed the reply to his companion, Elizabeth saw his attention had turned to Jane. Had he fallen in love with her? She could not say for sure, but from what she observed, the possibility existed.
“I am curious, Mr. Darcy,” said she with a laugh, “what are your thoughts on the matter? Do you and your sister enjoy the season together, or do you occupy yourself with estate matters and leave her to fend for herself?”
He chuckled in response, but Elizabeth saw the guilt in his eyes. “We could not spend last Christmas with each other,” said he, although the confession seemed painful.
“I cannot imagine spending the day without my family,” said she. “After our worship, we gather in the sitting-room and listen to Papa read from the Gospel of Luke.”
“I assume you mean the second chapter,” said Mr. Darcy, “and the beautiful story of the birth of Christ?”
“Yes,” answered Elizabeth with a chuckle, which brought a look of censure from the gentleman.
“Do you always laugh while your father reads from the Bible?” asked he, the accusation clear.
“No!” she hastened to answer. “Your comment recalled his reading the passage last year. For as long as I can remember, we have had a tradition of reciting the scriptural account along with him. It is a fond memory of how we value each other’s company, and I would not change it for the world.”
Mr. Darcy nodded in agreement, although grief clouded his eyes. “Traditions are essential, especially on occasions like this. I wish my parents were here to celebrate with us. With only Georgiana and me, we have had to share the joy of the season without our family, as we are on our own.”
Sadness stirred in Elizabeth’s bosom at Mr. Darcy’s recounting of his Christmas observation. Tears gathered in her eyes, and despair tugged at her heart until she saw a peaceful smile settle on his countenance, its appearance chasing the grief from his face.
“To fight the loneliness,” he continued, “we make it a habit of inviting Pemberley’s tenant farmers to share our holiday meal. It is a lot of work for the cook and the maids, but when I ask their opinion on the matter, they tell me how much joy it brings them.”
“Are you sure they are giving an honest answer?” asked Elizabeth, thinking of the Longbourn servants’ anticipation of spending a day with their loved ones.
Mr. Bennet did not insist on any of them sacrificing their time tending to the Bennet family’s needs.
For this one day, he insisted his children do as much for themselves as they could.
The cook arranged most of the feast in advance, with only the goose tended by a single kitchen servant, and none of the maids assigned to serve dinner.
Mr. Bennet believed everyone should celebrate with their family, so he freed them from their duties wherever possible, allowing them to enjoy the company of loved ones.
“I hope so,” replied Mr. Darcy, a confident smile stretching his lips.
“Pemberley servants join us at the Christmas table. Rather than have them serving and taking dirty plates away for me and Georgiana, we bring the food from the kitchen and place it on the sideboard. I invite them to serve themselves before we fill our plates.”
He shook his head and let out a rueful laugh. “It is a practice I refrain from mentioning to my neighbors. The few I told thought I was quite mad. To avoid any further censure or ridicule, I have kept it to myself since then. You are now the second person to learn of my habit.”
“How thoughtful of you,” said Elizabeth, wondering if Mr. Bennet might consider doing the same at Longbourn. “Your servants have a compassionate master.”
“I try to treat them with dignity,” said he, a pink hue rising to his cheeks that warmed Elizabeth’s heart.
Casting her eyes about, she spied Jane and Mr. Bingley, their heads together in earnest conversation as the company proceeded along the street.
“It seems your charming friend and my sister appreciate each other’s company,” said she, her remarks met with red faces from both, as if ashamed of being caught.
“This is a side of him I have not seen before,” said Mr. Darcy, affection for his friend clear in his voice. “I hope your mother doesn’t take it upon herself to interfere. It would be a mistake to push Miss Bennet into Bingley’s arms.”
“Mama is not in the habit of forcing Jane, or me, on anyone,” snapped Elizabeth, her eyes narrowing and her nostrils flaring at the insult.
“We make our own decisions in love, or the lack of it. You, and Mr. Bingley’s sisters, would be well-advised to consider that when you dismiss us as unworthy of your notice. ”
“And you should examine your answers to innocent comments before calling my motives into question,” replied Mr. Darcy, the words leaving his mouth like daggers seeking her heart in revenge for treating his reply in such an accusatory manner.
“We need to go home,” said Elizabeth, choosing distance from this man as a better alternative to the continual disparaging remarks. Separating herself from his conceited and dismissive demeanor was preferable to remaining anywhere near such an arrogant individual.
“Come,” demanded she, turning her back on Mr. Darcy and taking hold of her youngest sister’s sleeve to pull her from the group. Kitty, she knew, would follow without complaint, but if she didn’t pull Lydia away, she would find herself alone on the road to Longbourn.
“Wait for me, Lizzy,” cried Jane, offering Mr. Bingley an apology for the unexpected conclusion of their visit.
“I hope you will continue to call,” said she, a rapid wave all she could offer before running after her sister, who set a brisk pace along the lane returning them to the estate.
“What happened between you this time?” asked Jane, struggling to keep up.
“You were having such a friendly conversation until you left. Did he take liberties, or make a disturbing suggestion? I hope not, because that does not seem like a man Mr. Bingley would befriend.”
“I do not want to talk about it,” snapped Elizabeth, regretting her words as soon as she uttered them and fighting the pride that fought her desire to apologize.
The battle ended with her decision to revisit the matter once they arrived home.
Jane would not hold a grudge over her shameful conduct, but she deserved an explanation for this unseemly behavior.
Thankfully, the journey finished without further discussion, giving her the chance to consider Mr. Darcy’s comment.
Was he joking? I am sure he has seen Mama’s less than dignified comments concerning them, as well as her obsession with their income.
Maybe I am in the wrong here and took offense where I should not have.
I suppose Jane is not the only person I need to ask for forgiveness.
Regardless of his intent, I should not have jumped to that conclusion without first considering what he might have meant.
The self-reflection and accompanying decision lifted her spirits and by the time Hill met them at the entrance, her cheery attitude had returned. Voices greeted them as the door closed, prompting her to turn toward the butler, brows lifted in an unspoken question.
“Mrs. Bennet told me to send you into the sitting-room,” said he. “She wanted to see you as soon as you came home.”
Dread began in her stomach and spread to her bosom as she neared the entrance, where she heard a too-familiar voice droning on regarding some issue only he considered important.
“As I explained to Lady Catherine,” Mr. Collins was saying as she entered the room, her feet reluctant to carry her into yet another inevitable argument. “Proper understanding of the scriptures is my responsibility as parson, not hers.”
The scene which met her eyes might have entertained her, if not for the return of this unwelcome guest. Her mother occupied her usual chair beside the fireplace, paying rapt attention to the nonsense issuing from the man.
Mr. Collins, wearing an air of arrogant self-assurance, faced Mrs. Bennet.
Gone was the beaten manner he wore upon leaving for Rosings Park a few weeks ago, replaced by a surety she found disconcerting.
Her father, seated across the room, watched the frivolous chatter. He wore an expression of amused irritation, as if waiting for their foolish words to fade into nothingness.
“Miss Elizabeth, how nice to see you again,” said he, the words oozing from his mouth like melted wax, too thick to flow, but thin enough to cover an unwary or wrongly placed hand.
“I promise to not make you uncomfortable. In fact, I expect this parting to come on much friendlier terms than our last.”
In a panic, Elizabeth looked at her father, whose smile faltered but remained in place. Before she found the words to disabuse him of any romantic intentions he still held, Mrs. Bennet spoke up, defeating her efforts to enjoy the rest of this day.
“Isn’t it wonderful, Lizzy?” said she, excitement mixing with anticipation, but for what Elizabeth feared to ask.
“Mr. Collins has agreed to spend Christmas with us. I wonder if we might prevail upon him to do the scripture reading after the church service this year. Wouldn’t that be a welcome addition to our celebration, having a man of the cloth giving his scriptural interpretation of that blessed event? ”
Elizabeth’s opinion was nowhere close to her mother’s, but prior experience and a desire to maintain peace throughout the upcoming week kept her silent.
If she focused on her own thoughts and refrained from commenting on his vapid remarks, she might survive Christmas without causing irreparable harm to her cousin. Although doubtful she possessed the strength to control her anger, she had to try.