Chapter 23

Christmas Morning

The air inside the church was warm, heated by the hundreds of bodies within. On Christmas morning, everyone came to church – gentry and tradesman and busy servant and tenant farmer alike. All of Meryton and the surrounding locales gathered to give solemn thanks on this, the celebration of Christ’s birth.

Darcy glanced towards the Bennets’ pew. They were all lined up, unaccustomedly silent and serious. His eyes lingered for a moment on Miss Elizabeth, looking radiant and grave, her gaze on the front of the church. Darcy watched her for a bit more before turning forward again.

Mr. Allen took his place at the pulpit, looked around the sanctuary, bent his head over the Book of Common Prayer, and read the Collect for the day.

“ AlmightyGod, who hast given us thy only-begotten Son to take our nature upon him, and as at this time to be born of a pure Virgin. Grant that we being regenerate, and made thy children by adoption and grace, may daily be renewed by thy Holy Spirit; through the same as our Lord Jesus Christ, who liveth and reigneth with thee and the same Spirit, ever one God, world without end.Amen .”

There was a soft rustle at the end of these words, and after a short prayer, Mr. Allen began reading the day’s Epistle. Once again, Darcy found himself distracted by his own uncertainty and Elizabeth’s nearness.

His gaze shifted to the window across from him, a riot of blues and soothing greens and delicate beige-peach in the middle. The Madonna looked adoringly down at the Child in her lap, a tiny gold cross in one of His hands and a white cloth draped modestly over His lap. But His eyes seemed to stare right back at Darcy, glowing brilliantly with the sun behind them, a smile curving His infant mouth.

A passage, fully formed, sprang into Darcy’s mind, from the Apostle Paul’s letter to the Philippians.

Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus,

who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God

but made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men.

And being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross.

Darcy stared at the window and felt his heart beat faster. Jesus Christ, Son of God, King of Kings, Lord of Lords, had come to earth as an infant child, to poor parents, born in a stable, placed in a manger…

He had prayed for God’s guidance regarding Elizabeth, and knew that this was the Lord’s answer. If the King of glory could humble himself in such a way, he had no right, and certainly no reason, to look down upon Elizabeth Bennet because of her connections.

It was absurd. It was, frankly, stupid. She was beautiful and intelligent and hard-working and kind, and he loved her, he adored her. She was his perfect bride.

He would ask her to marry him as soon as possible.

He could but pray, with fervor, that she would accept him.

/

Longbourn

Later that day

Elizabeth settled back on the cushion of the chair and took a sip of her tea, the saucer balanced carefully on her lap, and glanced around the room. The fire had been built up and now crackled merrily in its hearth, throwing blazing light and warmth across the room. Her mother and Mrs. Phillips sat beside it with their heads together, voices mercifully low, with Mr. Phillips sitting silently nearby. Across from them, Mr. Bennet was speaking courteously with Charles Bingley about sheep husbandry, his scone forgotten in his gesturing hand.

Jane sat near to her husband’s side, looking blissfully contented as she spoke with Lydia and Kitty. They were discussing the possibility of the two of them having a London Season in a couple of years, and Jane had to keep laughingly reminding her sisters to moderate their volume. Georgiana and Mary were curled up in a corner together, chattering quietly but animatedly about some new piece of music both were learning, dark head and light close together over the sheet of paper.

Near the center table, the Hursts and Caroline Bingley were being scrupulously civil to Mr. Gardiner about London parks, though Miss Bingley kept attempting – rather unsuccessfully, Elizabeth noted with amusement – to draw Mr. Darcy into the conversation.

She took another sip of her tea and returned her wandering attention to her aunt. Mrs. Gardiner was still speaking fondly of little Jack’s latest escapades, though Elizabeth suspected – based on some experience with her young cousins and memories of her own girlhood – that they were more tailored to drawing-room debate than the original event had been. Movement from the far side of the room caught her eye again, and her breath hitched; Mr. Darcy was walking towards them, and she admired his person as he approached.

“Miss Bennet?” he asked, and she thought he looked a trifle anxious.

“Yes?” she replied and could not help but smile up at him, full of Christmas cheer in general and enjoyment of his presence in particular.

“You were kind enough to lend me some books for Georgiana, and she has read them all. Might you perhaps be willing to lend me a few more?”

“Oh yes!” she responded, rising to her feet and shaking out her skirts. “Would you like to invite her to accompany me into the library, or would you, perhaps…”

“I would prefer to do it myself,” Darcy said quickly and then, at her look of surprise, continued, “She is young and sensitive and there are books which you doubtless enjoy which might distress her.”

“I entirely understand,” Elizabeth replied, and turned toward her aunt, who was watching with interest. “Aunt, I hope you will excuse me?”

“Of course,” Mrs. Gardiner said placidly. Darcy held out his arm toward Elizabeth, who took it rather shyly, and the twosome made their way out of the drawing room and down the corridor of the east wing to the very end where Mr. Bennet’s fine library waited in silent splendor.

Elizabeth released Mr. Darcy’s arm upon entering her favorite room in the house and, after being certain that the door was open for propriety’s sake, made her way to a book of shelves containing novels, some of them Gothics.

“Miss Bennet?” Mr. Darcy said from behind her, and she turned toward him, her throat tightening at the peculiar look on the gentleman’s face.

“Yes?” she answered a trifle breathlessly.

“I fear I have asked you here on somewhat false pretenses. I do wish for books for my sister, but more than that…”

He trailed away, and Elizabeth felt her heart beat so hard that she could feel her pulse throbbing.

“Yes?” she repeated.

“My dear Miss Bennet, you must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire you. You are intelligent, kind, hardworking, diligent, and very beautiful, and I have fallen completely and hopelessly in love with you. I am confident that you are the best woman in all of England for me, and I can but hope and pray that you, despite my insulting behavior upon our first meeting, now feel kindly enough toward me to accept my suit. Miss Bennet, will you give me your hand in marriage?”

Elizabeth, to her amazement, felt tears of relief and of joy filling her eyes and flowing down her cheeks, though based on Darcy’s horrified expression, he entirely misinterpreted her reaction. She took a small, hasty step forward, smiled up into his face, and said, “Mr. Darcy, yes! I love you very much and had hoped that … oh, this is a dream come true. Yes, I indeed wish to be your wife.”

His initial distress had given way to joy during her speech, and he took a long stride forward, closing the space between them, and grasped her slender fingers in his own with such glee in his heart that he thought it might burst with delight.

“Elizabeth,” he choked out. “You have made me so happy, so very happy.”

“And you have brought me equal joy,” she responded, and to his surprise and pleasure, rose up on her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. “But come, sir, I am not yet of age, and thus you must ask my father for permission.”

Ecstasy immediately gave way to concern. “Do you think he might deny my suit?”

Elizabeth tilted her head, her eyes sparkling in the way that he had loved for so many weeks, and she said, “I will not tease you in this matter; no, he most certainly will not. I am his favorite child, and he will miss my company, but he loves me and wants me to be settled well, and as your wife, I will be.”

/

Mr. Bennet did not ordinarily enjoy being surrounded by a multitude of individuals, especially when many of those people were his nearest relations. He found his wife tiresome, and his youngest daughters very silly, though he was exceptionally fond of Jane and Elizabeth.

Generally he found solace in laughing at Mrs. Bennet and Kitty and Lydia, but he was not inclined to do so now. All three ladies had improved substantially in the last weeks – Mrs. Bennet, freed from her fears of the hedgerows, was not nearly as querulous and noisy, and along with that, had grown more beautiful, reminding him of why he had offered for her so many years ago. As for Kitty and Lydia, he did not quite understand the changes in their behavior. One week they had been frantically chasing after militia officers, and the next week they were learning to knit and were assisting in packing gifts for Boxing Day.

But no matter, Longbourn was far more tranquil now, and as he sat in the corner and watched his family and guests, he felt a strange peace in his heart. He had never bothered himself greatly about the entail since he would not personally suffer the loss of Longbourn, but it was pleasant to think of his family well cared for by Bingley, who was benevolent and generous. He was also thankful that Bingley had fallen in love with Jane, not Elizabeth. Jane was charming and kind, but she was not as quick and clever as Elizabeth. If his second daughter ever married, he would miss her very much indeed.

“Father?”

He looked up in surprise to observe Elizabeth standing nearby, her lips parted, her eyes bright with excitement, and for some reason, his stomach lurched with unease.

“Yes, my dear?”

“Mr. Darcy wishes to speak to you in the library,” Elizabeth said, and the unease transformed into dismay. She must mean … she must mean…

Elizabeth’s expression shifted to one of determination and she leaned forward and whispered. “I love him, Father, so very much.”

Bennet sighed, stood up, and kissed her on the cheek. “I understand, Lizzy, but I will miss you.”