Chapter Twelve
Elizabeth awoke the next morning with all the joy she usually felt on Christmas Day. She still repined the absence of her family, and dared to hope they would return home. But something had changed; she had begun to consider Georgiana and Mr. Darcy as family, and she was eager to see them.
She was rather less eager to behold the chaos and damage of the previous night in the light of day. Mrs. Annesley and Mrs. Hill had insisted Elizabeth and Georgiana go to bed as soon as they returned to Longbourn, and neither had protested overly much.
Their defensive escapades had exhausted them, physically as well as emotionally, but the removal of that anxiety felt incomparably light and wondrous.
Elizabeth hummed a carefree tune as she hauled herself up out of bed, smiling into the morning sun that poured in through her window.
The snow had nearly melted away, leaving only intermittent patches on the ground, and the sky was a cloudless, cheerful cerulean; there was color in the world again.
She had insisted, as she retired the night before, that the Hills must spend Christmas as they chose, together, unburdened by their duties at Longbourn.
And so Elizabeth was obliged to dress herself; she selected a day dress as simple as the plait she coaxed her hair into, bearing in mind that she must prepare her own breakfast.
The pleasant recollection of cooking with her new friends brightened the smile on her face as she considered whether she should prefer a repetition of that happy activity, or if she might surprise her companions by managing a whole meal herself.
She knew how to scramble an egg, had learnt how to fry bacon and sausages in Cook’s terrifying cast iron, and she believed there were fruits and pastries enough in the larder.
She would have to ask Mrs Annesley for help with the coffee, as her last attempt had been nothing short of abysmal.
After one final glance in the mirror, Elizabeth was satisfied with her appearance, and she ventured beyond her bedchamber to survey the state of Longbourn.
It had all been a blur to her last evening, both in the heat of the moment and in her exhausted state upon returning to Longbourn after the capture of the nine Red Bandits.
The upstairs corridor was a disaster, the wooden floors mucked with mud and refuse from the goats, who had happily been returned to their usual environs.
Grease seeped out from under the door to the attic stairs, pooling where the floor dipped unevenly.
The rusty old chain still hung from Kitty and Lydia’s door, which was partially torn from its hinges and bore a large, bloody handprint in the center of it.
The brazier lay on its side, ash and chunks of coal spilling out of it, mixing with the mud and grease.
Elizabeth peered into her younger sisters’ chamber and laughed aloud, as dismayed as she was amused by the havoc the goats had wrought—it was no wonder that Georgiana had been obliged to share with Mrs. Annesley last night.
The stairwell was just as muddy, and as she rounded the landing and descended into the front hall, she was obliged to push aside the three kettles still hanging by ropes above her.
Broken and busted old furniture was piled about as if there had been some manner of explosion, with the three baroque chandeliers fallen atop the wreckage, candles askance, and dried droplets of melted wax splattered in every direction.
The doors to the back parlor were open; sunlight glistened on the slick puddles of furniture polish and the nails that had been scattered like petals at a wedding.
Lord Whiskerton crept through the room, his face to the ground as he sniffed at all the evidence that the goats had gotten into the room at some point.
“Oh dear,” Elizabeth murmured, laughing to herself once more.
She would have to offer to assist the Hills in tidying all this up, perhaps even spend a little of her pin money on a present for the housekeeper who had gone above and beyond her ordinary duties in defending the manor so robustly.
She turned the other way and strode toward the dining room, where she heard several voices.
It was not as early as her usual waking hour, but she had not expected to find so many people breaking their fast, with an ample repast already laid out.
The room itself was perfectly tidy, though she could spy through the window that the back lawn was strewn with detritus.
But a fire blazed, pleasant smells assaulted her, and five smiling face turned to regard Elizabeth before Mr. Darcy stood and pulled out a chair beside his own, gesturing for her to sit.
By the time she had done so, Colonel Fitzwilliam had begun making up a plate for her, giving his cousin a mischievous smirk as he placed it before Elizabeth and bid her good morning.
“And a Happy Christmas to our brave heroine,” he added, raising a glass of something that Elizabeth supposed he had every right to drink at such an early hour, given the events of the previous evening.
He had still been supervising the removal of the captured bandits from the stable when she had retired, and she knew not where or whether he had slept.
“What an excellent surprise,” Elizabeth said as she surveyed the meal before her.
It was just what she would have cooked herself, and Georgiana explained that Wilson and Mrs. Annesley had risen early that morning to prepare the breakfast feast as a surprise.
Mrs. Annesley smiled graciously at Elizabeth’s expressions of appreciation; when Elizabeth looked round for Wilson, Georgiana grinned and informed her that the valet had gone to call on the Hills.
Beside her, the colonel waggled his eyebrows, speculating on whether the housekeeper’s daughter had hung any mistletoe in their cottage.
“I am so pleased that you remained in Meryton for Christmas, Colonel,” Elizabeth said. “And you as well, Captain Denny.”
“I took the liberty of inviting Denny to join us for this little family party, since he has no near relations to speak of, and I have appointed a very eager young major as temporary commander of the regiment. Today, we are quite at our leisure,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said.
Elizabeth was gratified to hear that she was not the only person present who considered this rather like an informal family gathering, and her amusement increased as she observed Georgiana’s reaction to Captain Denny.
“Oh no,” her friend gasped. “Have you no family at all? That is terribly sad. My brother and I have had only one another since losing our parents.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam let out a sound of indignant surprise, his hand on his heart as he stared agape at Georgiana. “What about your devoted cousins at Matlock?”
“My devoted cousins at Matlock are neither my sex nor my age, and have spent the last several Christmases with your mother’s relations or with the Viscountess and her people in London,” Georgiana quipped.
She smiled brightly at Captain Denny. “Has it been so long since you have had lovely company at Christmas?”
“Many years,” Denny replied. “My brother was killed in battle on the continent, and my sister married and emigrated to America. My parents passed when we were all very young. The army has been my family of sorts, though I have always envied families such as the Bennets.”
“Do you crave nearly constant chaos and noise, a total want of privacy, petty theft of your possessions, and habitual comparison to the achievements of your siblings?” Elizabeth grinned as she posed the question, but there was a pang in her heart.
She missed her relations, and wished they were there right now driving her to distraction at an unreasonable volume.
Captain Denny understood her good intentions and chuckled at her jest. “I have seen the affection between you all; it is why I have always enjoyed being a guest at Longbourn, and today is no exception. This may certainly remain one of my most interesting Christmases for many years to come.”
“I should pity you if you ever experience a stranger one,” Colonel Fitzwilliam quipped, winking at Elizabeth.
At her side, Elizabeth could sense Mr. Darcy bristling at his cousin’s easy banter with her.
The colonel was agreeable in the same way as Charles, as a brotherly figure who put her at ease and kept her amused.
What she felt for Mr. Darcy was something else entirely, and she knew that he felt it, too.
Wishing to reassure him, she met his eye with a warm smile, and beneath the table she slid her hand into his.
For a frightening moment, she feared he would not take it, but he did, and his lips twitched upward as his eyes shone.
“I am delighted that you are spending Christmas at Longbourn,” Elizabeth said, her gaze lingering on Mr. Darcy before she turned to smile at her other guests. “You may be subjected to my abominable cooking in the absence of anybody more qualified, but until then I am sure we shall be very merry.”
“We are military men, Miss Bennet—you cannot frighten us with poor cooking,” Colonel Fitzwilliam drawled.
“And even so, the good company and the celebration of our triumph last evening is enough to eclipse every other consideration,” Captain Denny said.
Georgiana clapped her hands, bouncing in her seat with excitement. “What shall we do today? Play games, perhaps? We must have music—oh, and dancing! And Will, would you read to us? Oh, and you, too, Lizzy—I daresay you read very well.”
Mr. Darcy grazed his thumb across the inside of Elizabeth’s palm at this reminder of their night in the library, and they shared a heated glance before recollecting themselves and attempting a modicum of discretion.
“To begin with,” Captain Denny said, “I should like to offer my services in cleaning up the damage done by the Red Bandits.”