Chapter Seventy-One

Christmas Day, 1811

T he day dawned bright and cold. It had, magically, snowed during the night, producing that most desired of all holiday settings – a white Christmas – to please Meryton's residents.

The Bennets understood that there would not be too much in the way of breakfast today, given that Cook and her assistant, Betty, had already been up for hours preparing the Christmas dinner. Toast, tea and fruit were available on the sideboard, and Cook had managed to salvage slices of ham from a previous dinner to accompany these meager offerings.

Lydia and Kitty chattered happily about the games they would play after dinner. "Snapdragon!" Lydia announced. "I love Snapdragon; I always win!"

"I do not think we will play Snapdragon tonight, Lydia," Mrs. Bennet said. "I think our guests are rather too refined for such simple sport."

"Not play Snapdragon? Impossible!" Lydia insisted. "Then I shall go to Maria's house for dinner, for the Lucas family always plays Snapdragon!"

"As shall I!" the faithful Kitty added.

"No, you shall not. You shall remain here and behave yourselves!" her mother scolded them.

Mary opened her mouth, but her father forestalled her. "Mary, if you now plan to offer a lecture on filial piety, I beg you to save your breath."

"No, I was going to say that I, too, enjoy Snapdragon!" Mary said, unexpectedly.

Her family stared at her. Finally, Mrs. Bennet said, "Very well, then. Snapdragon it shall be."

***

Their guests arrived promptly, everyone dressed in festive clothing. Elizabeth could scarcely take her eyes away from Mr. Darcy; she had always thought him a handsome man, but dressed in his finery, she thought she had never even imagined a man could look so…well, delectable. She knew she was blushing and hoped not to be called to account for it.

Mr. Darcy, for his part, had hardly drawn breath since seeing Miss Elizabeth dressed in deep red with silver braiding about the sleeves and hem. He knew a little of ladies' fashions – he had a sister, after all – and so knew the style of the dress to be two years out of date, but it suited her perfectly. How the colour brought out the red in her lips! – and he quickly turned his face, lest it betray the nature of his thoughts.

Mr. Fitzwilliam and Jane stared at one another to their heart's content; as a betrothed couple, such behaviour was expected of them. Kitty and Lydia giggled at their expressions; this behaviour was also expected.

Mary was playing Christmas carols on the piano, softly, so as not to interfere with conversations.

Mr. and Mrs. Bingley sat closely together on a sofa. He was endlessly solicitous for her comfort. Was she warm enough? Might she need a shawl? Oh – too warm? Would she wish to trade seats with him, so that she might be a bit further from the fire?

Even the Hursts seemed affable on this special day, sitting near the Bingleys and conversing together.

Mrs. Bennet surveyed her guests with a smile on her face. Everyone was clearly predisposed to enjoy themselves; it would, she was certain, be a night to remember.

After about half an hour, during which time she arranged and rearranged the seating plan, tweaked the placement of glasses and cutlery, and checked with the kitchen staff more than twice, she called everyone in to dinner.

Mr. Bennet was at the head of the table, of course. Jane was on his right, with her intended beside her, then Mrs. Hurst and Mr. Hurst. Elizabeth she placed on her father's left, with Mr. Darcy beside her, then Mr. Darcy's sister (Mrs. Bingley! Who would have guessed it!), then Mr. Bingley. The younger girls were down at Mrs. Bennet's end of the table, where she could keep an eye on them.

The food was everything delicious and the wine plentiful; it was not long before conversation was flowing as freely as the ruby liquid.

"So, Mr. Fitzwilliam, I hear that you have resigned your commission," Mr. Bennet said to his future son-in-law.

"I have, yes."

"How do you think you will take to farming? Rather a quiet life after the military, is it not?"

"Quiet is exactly what I hope for, with my lovely wife beside me." He smiled beatifically at Jane.

"Where, exactly, is this estate of yours? Chestnut something?"

"Chestnut Creek. It is in Derbyshire."

"Close to your cousin's home, is it not?"

"It is, yes." Mr. Fitzwilliam began to wonder toward what end these questions were tending. He was certain his host had not forgotten the name of his estate, and he suspected the man was also well-informed as to its location.

"Perhaps Elizabeth will be able to visit her sister there."

"She is always welcome, of course. Indeed, I hope you will all visit us there." Ah, there it was, Mr. Fitzwilliam thought. Mr. Bennet hoped Elizabeth and Darcy would see each other again, in the event they were unable to work out their differences before the twelfth of January.

"Be careful what you wish for, Mr. Fitzwilliam. The entire Bennet family is a fearsome thing to behold." Mr. Bennet gestured with his wine glass to the other end of the table, where Kitty and Lydia were in the midst of a loud argument. Mr. Fitzwilliam laughed.

Mr. Bennet glanced to his left. Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth were speaking together softly; too softly for a fond father to overhear.

"You look lovely tonight, Miss Elizabeth," Mr. Darcy whispered.

"I thank you, Mr. Darcy," she whispered back. She opened her mouth to tell him that he looked lovely as well, but she thought better of it. Instead, she said, "Your sister seems quite content with Mr. Bingley."

"She is; I would not be surprised if they end up in love!"

"She deserves a happy ending after all she has been through."

"I agree."

"You are no longer angry with one another, I trust?"

"I think we have resolved our differences, and I thank you for your help in that regard."

"Me! I did nothing."

"Your opinions were valued by everyone in the room. If I may say so, Miss Elizabeth, your opinions will always be valued – by me. And it was you who gave me the impetus I required to put things right with my sister."

Their eyes locked. And, again, it was Mary who interrupted them. "Lizzy, can you pass the butter down this way?"

***

After everyone had eaten their fill, Kitty and Lydia began to chant. "Snapdragon! Snapdragon!"

Mrs. Bennet was surprised when Mrs. Bingley, obviously a very superior young lady, said, "Oh! I love Snapdragon! May we?"

After that, there was nothing to do but do oblige. A large bowl was produced from the kitchen, into which nuts and raisins were poured. Brandy was added to cover the nuts and raisins. Mr. Bennet protested at the waste of brandy, but he was ignored, and the brandy was lit. Lydia, always competitive, reminded everyone that the person who was able to get the most raisins and nuts out of the dish was the winner. The room was soon filled with squeals of laughter as everyone tried to snatch the raisins and nuts from the bowl without being burnt.

Once the brandy had burnt out, Kitty and Lydia began squabbling over their count. "I got eight!" Kitty said.

"Can you not count? That is only seven! It is me who got eight!"

And Mr. Bingley stopped the argument, saying, "Mrs. Bingley here got eleven, but she does not want me to say so!"

"Oh, Charles! I do not need to win the game!"

"But you did win!"

Mrs. Bennet happily pronounced Mrs. Bingley the winner of Snapdragon.

In the drawing room, riddles were suggested. Mr. Fitzwilliam began with, "Why is a pheasant like a writing desk?"

It was Mr. Bennet who replied, "Both have quills!"

"Very good, Mr. Bennet! Shall you give us one?"

"Very well." He paused in thought. "I'm here and there and all-around.I don't actually exist but can be found. No, not you, Lizzy. I know you know the answer!"

Elizabeth sat with her lips pressed together, eyes laughing.

Mary answered, "Is it a shadow, Papa?"

"Very good, Mary! You go next."

"Here is one I read last week. Though legs I have got, it is seldom I walk. I backbite many but never talk. I seek places that can hide me, as those that feed me cannot abide me."

This stumped the party for several minutes; it was Mrs. Bingley who called out, "A flea, is it not?"

"Well done, Georgiana!" Mr. Bingley's grin was huge.

‘Mr. Darcy is right,' Elizabeth thought. ‘Those two will be in love by the end of the night!'

"My turn!" Mrs. Bingley said, delightedly. "Here it is. Two brothers are we, yet can't hope to be saved; from our very first day to our last, we're enslaved; our office the hardest, and food surely the worst. Being crammed with warm flesh till we're ready to burst; though low is our state, even kings we support, and at balls have the principal share in the sport!"

There was a long silence, as brows were knit and fingernails chewed.

"Crammed with warm flesh…Shoes! Slippers! Boots!" Mrs. Bennet fluttered her handkerchief, excitedly.

Mrs. Bingley agreed that ‘boots' was the right answer.

Lydia suggested charades. She leapt to her feet to begin the fun.

Mr. Bennet was doing his best to capture Mr. Darcy's attention, but the man had not once looked his way. Instead, Mr. Darcy spent a good deal of time staring at Lizzy, which was all well and good, but the mistletoe represented a far better opportunity to reclaim Lizzy than staring at her. Finally, Mr. Darcy glanced at Mr. Bennet, who immediately widened his eyes. Aha! That had captured the man's attention. Mr. Bennet then very deliberately turned his head to look at the mistletoe hanging in the doorway that separated the dining room from the parlour. He then turned his head back to Mr. Darcy and nodded.

The man looked puzzled. Mr. Bennet sighed to himself and repeated his pantomime again. Truly, was all of this younger generation so very dim? Mr. Bennet feared this did not bode well for the future of the Empire. Finally – finally! – the light dawned and Mr. Darcy nodded back at him, smiling.

Mr. Darcy thought hard. How was he to get Miss Elizabeth under the mistletoe so that he might claim a kiss from her? Ah!

"Miss Elizabeth, I require your assistance in acting out a charade."

"Wait – are partners allowed?" Mary enquired.

"Of course," Mr. Bennet responded quickly.

Elizabeth rose.

"Over here," Mr. Darcy said, walking to the discretely hanging mistletoe.

Mr. Bennet saw Mary's eyes follow him and then go up. She saw the mistletoe and immediately opened her mouth to say something. ""Mary, I need you here," he said immediately.

"But –"

"Now, child." His tone was firm.

She rose and went to him.

"Sit beside me, Mary."

She obeyed. "Papa, there is a sprig –"

He spoke softly. "I put it there, Mary."

"But how could you? It is not at all proper!"

"It is proper enough at Christmas, and I require your silence."

Oblivious to the conversation between Mr. Bennet and his middle daughter, Elizabeth rose and walked to Mr. Darcy, her eyes wide and trusting. He turned to face her and, taking her shoulders, turned her to face him. Then, not taking his eyes from her face, he reached up and snatched a white berry. He presented it to her on an open palm.

"You said a charade," she protested.

He waited in silence until she smiled at him, shyly, and then nodded. And then, in full view of everyone in the parlour, he leaned down and claimed a quick, chaste kiss.

***

Neither Elizabeth nor Mr. Darcy slept much that night, each reliving that kiss under the mistletoe, again and again and again…