Chapter 27
THE FESTIVE SEASON
Miss Bingley excelled at planning a party.
Elizabeth had acknowledged as much on the occasion of the ball, and she had put Netherfield’s best face forward once more on the eve of Christmas, despite having only a few days to prepare.
The lintels and banisters were festooned with ribbons and greenery, and the air was redolent of mulled wine and cider.
Entering the drawing room with her younger sisters and the Gardiners, while her mother commandeered Mr Bingley’s attention by soliciting compliments for Jane, Elizabeth had just spotted Charlotte speaking with the colonel when Mr Darcy approached and bowed before them.
“Miss Mary,” he said once the civilities had been observed, “it occurred to me, after Fitzwilliam and I parted from you and your sister yesterday, that you and I ought to have a conversation about your future husband’s parish.
I have information on several of the families there which I believe will be of interest to you. ”
Mary ducked her head at this unexpected attention. “I should be glad to hear anything you have to say regarding how I may best assist Mr Collins in tending to his duties. I thank you.”
“That is handsome of you, sir,” added Mrs Gardiner. “I see that Lady Anne Darcy’s devotion to charitable works made its mark upon her son.”
“Did you know my mother?” he enquired in astonishment.
“A little,” the lady admitted. “I passed much of my youth in Lambton. My own mother and I made our home there with my uncle, Mr Lorimer, who had the living at St Benedict’s, after the death of my father removed us from his estate in favour of his brother.
Your mother and my uncle worked together for the good of the poor in the parish, and so I encountered her at the parsonage on several occasions. ”
“I should dearly love to hear some of your recollections of her at some more convenient time, if you are willing, madam,” Mr Darcy said earnestly.
“And even more so, for my sister to hear them. Her memories are entirely those which I and others have shared, for she was but a babe when Mother died, and I know she treasures every titbit she can gather.”
Mrs Gardiner was greatly affected by this entreaty, it was plain to see. “I should be very happy to share my small store of memories of Lady Anne with you and your sister. Unfortunately, Mr Gardiner’s business draws us back to town on Monday.”
“I am certain that Bingley means for our party to attend the tea at Longbourn on Friday,” he replied easily, naming the day after Boxing Day. “My sister and I might speak with you then, if that suits you?”
“I consider it a fixed engagement.”
Elizabeth observed this interaction with a confusing mixture of feelings.
Mr Darcy’s kindness in addressing Mary and offering to assist her in being of use to the parishioners of Hunsford raised her admiration and increased her fondness for the gentleman she already considered a good friend; his attentiveness to her aunt, whose position in life was so decidedly beneath his own, set alongside his care for the pleasure of his sister and the memory of his mother, engendered within her a wish that someone might so devotedly look after him.
Unsettled by this upwelling of emotion, she excused herself to find her friends.
Kitty and Mary did likewise, and as Elizabeth greeted the Longs, she saw that Mr Darcy remained in conversation with the Gardiners, her uncle presently saying something which made the younger gentleman smile.
Well she knew her uncle’s virtues, and too often had she seen his sense, intelligence, and gentlemanly comportment dismissed out of hand by those of higher rank.
To witness Mr Darcy, who had seemed so very proud when first she encountered him, speaking to her aunt and uncle as equals confirmed the rightness of her present good opinion of him.
Yes, he had come into this neighbourhood as the guest and good friend of Mr Bingley, but there was a distinct difference between the son of a tradesman who was entering into the ranks of the gentry, and a man actively engaged in business.
Few, if any, would have censured the nephew of an earl for keeping the Gardiners at a coldly civil arm’s length.
She had made her way to Charlotte and the colonel, who had in the interim also been joined by Miss Darcy and Kitty, shortly before Miss Bingley opened the instrument.
Her brother gave a short speech welcoming everyone, wishing them all a happy Christmas season, and encouraging them to lift their voices in song, during which Mr Darcy silently appeared at Elizabeth’s side.
As Mr Bingley stepped aside and his sister arranged her music sheets upon the instrument, he asked, “Will you be favouring us with a performance tonight, Miss Elizabeth?”
“I expect I shall,” she replied. “It is the custom that every lady in the neighbourhood who can play should offer a carol or two, and it was my impression that Mr Bingley intends that our traditional gathering should be reproduced more or less exactly.”
Miss Bingley opened with The Holly and the Ivy, a carol the company knew very well and sang with enthusiasm.
She followed this with the equally traditional Greensleeves, during which she made a cake of herself by fixing her gaze in what Elizabeth presumed was meant to be a sultry fashion upon Mr Darcy during the more lover-like verses.
This the gentleman bore stoically, though the slight flush along his cheekbones hinted at consciousness.
The lady then ceded the instrument to Mrs Hurst, proceeding directly to Mr Darcy’s side and seizing his arm without having been offered it.
From the gentleman’s utter lack of reaction, Elizabeth deduced that this was not an uncommon event.
With no little effort, she refrained both from laughter, and from enquiring if this were some new revolution in manners born in London; tempted though she was to prick Miss Bingley’s conceit, she had no desire to further discomfit Mr Darcy.
Elizabeth took her turn at the instrument in time, and again after dinner in the interval between the meal and the arrival of the wassailers.
Their performance, followed by the hot wassail being doled out to one and all as Mr Bingley made the wassailers small gifts of coin and dried fruit, marked the end of the evening.
As the Bennets waited for the servants to retrieve their winter garments, Mr Darcy approached and bowed over her hand, retaining it in his own as he said, “If we have not the opportunity to speak after services tomorrow, Miss Elizabeth, please allow me to wish you a very happy Christmas.”
She returned the sentiment, and with a brief second bow, he retreated. Pulling her gloves on shortly thereafter, she noted with wonder that she could still feel the warmth of his fingers upon her own.
Following a Christmas greatly enlivened by the presence of the four young Gardiner children, and only slightly dampened by Lydia’s continuing sulks, on the morning of Boxing Day Elizabeth set out on the short path to Lucas Lodge, as was her habit.
There would be no formal calls that day, but she and Charlotte had long made a practice of taking a turn in the garden for some private conversation if it were not too cold or too wet.
It was, perhaps, cold enough that her friend would have thought nothing of it had Elizabeth stayed home, but there was a subject she most particularly wished to canvass and so she put on her warmest pelisse and gloves, her thick wool bonnet, and two pairs of stockings, and set out.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam has been paying you a great deal of attention since his return,” she opined the instant the garden door shut behind them.
Charlotte blushed and turned her face away, quite uncharacteristically. “He has,” she admitted cautiously after a moment. “I hardly know what to think.”
“What would you most like to think?”
Her friend was silent for a long moment. “That he is considering me as a potential wife.”
“That is my suspicion. Since I know you would have had Mr Collins had we been able to turn his attention to you, I shall not ask what your answer would be if the colonel were to propose. He is a good man and would make a fine husband. He has said that he will not be returning to his regiment due to his injury, but I must suppose the son of an earl has resources that will enable him to take up some other occupation which would allow him to support a family.”
Charlotte bit her lip. “He has very recently given me to know that his prospects are better than one might think. I am sorry, Eliza, but I cannot say more at present than that I have no concerns on that score.”
Her curiosity was most definitely roused by this hint, but she would not think to ask Charlotte to break a confidence. “I am happy to hear it. I must know only one thing more: Do you think you could love him?”
“Eliza, you know I am not romantic. I respect him and enjoy his company; I feel a sincere affection for him. I think that perhaps being his wife would not be as onerous in certain ways as some of the matrons would have us believe is generally the case,” she added with a bright blush.
“That is more than I have dared to hope for in a husband, and if he does make me a proposal, I shall be very happy to accept. And now,” she said with an air of finality, “it is your turn to be teased. Mr Darcy looks at you a great deal.”
It was also Elizabeth’s turn to blush. Heat spread across her cheeks as she replied, “I fear I may be in some danger, Charlotte. I did not like him at first, but since we put our first meeting behind us, every time we are in company together, I find reason to like him more. Yet I cannot believe that a man in his position could seriously consider a lady in mine.”
“You seem to have no difficulty imagining me marrying the son of an earl!” Charlotte exclaimed.