12

25 December, 1811

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.”

The colonel made a droll face. “You are already likely to get a knighthood for your role in bringing those ruffians to justice - must you try for a sainthood besides?”

“That is a kind offer - I ought to attempt some the same myself, before my family returns,”

Elizabeth said ruefully. “But I should infinitely prefer self-indulgence on such a fine holiday.”

“I wish to take a walk while it is so fine outside,”

Mr. Darcy said. “Would you show me the garden, Miss Bennet?”

“Certainly.”

Elizabeth felt a rush of heat deep inside her; she might have left the table and gone to the garden directly, though it would have been uncommonly rude.

Colonel Fitzwilliam brightened. “A walk in the garden! Indeed, that sounds lovely! I am sure I should like to stretch my legs. Do you not agree, Gigi?’’

“Yes, indeed,”

Georgiana said, watching her cousin’s playful tone. Mr. Darcy grimaced.

“The garden is not especially large, nor particularly remarkable at this time of year,”

Elizabeth mused. “If you are in want of some true exercise, perhaps Captain Denny might give you a walking tour of Meryton. The village is so very quaint.”

“What a fine idea, if Mrs. Annesley is willing to accompany you all,”

Mr. Darcy agreed, his look pleading with the kind lady to leave him and Elizabeth alone.

“I would think twice, if I were you, Miss Bennet, about sending away such strong and willing laborers when there is much that needs doing, but I shall enjoy taking in the sights of new environs,”

Mrs. Annesley replied primly, giving Elizabeth a sly wink.

It was nearly an hour before Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy actually had the pleasure of waving off their companions, watching them disappear in the direction of the village. The conversation at breakfast had been lively and pleasant, despite the subtle teasing at their expense; now that they were alone together, a frisson of anticipation hung in the air between them as Elizabeth donned her warmest outerwear and led Mr. Darcy to the back garden.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, gradually acclimating themselves to the unspoken accord they had come to the precipice of when they had last spoken privately. He had kissed her, and yet so much had happened that she had not thought of it until that night, in the brief moments between her head hitting the pillow and her mind drifting into exhausted slumber. She had drifted off with the feel of him on her lips, and woken up thinking of little else.

Elizabeth tightened her grip on Mr. Darcy’s arm, and he looked down at her with a tender smile. She released her grasp on him just enough to slide her hand into his. His smile grew into a broad grin as he interlaced their fingers. She gave a breathy laugh into the prevailing silence, wondering how they were to get on at all. He parted his lips as if to speak, let out a strange murmur, and gestured to a bench at the back of the garden.

They shifted themselves until they were seated very close on the old stone bench, and their hands soon found their way back together, but still they said nothing. But Elizabeth was certain she had not misunderstood his intentions - not this time. No, at long last she comprehended him perfectly. And after all that he had done for her, Elizabeth decided she ought to help him come to the point. “Yesterday, when we were speaking in my father’s book room, you were saying….”

He smiled gratefully at her. “Yes - thank you - I believe we reached a certain understanding. As I said, the circumstances being most peculiar, though I hope your parents will understand my actions, when justified by the entire ordeal….”

His smile ebbed away; the poor man looked mortified by his own verbal floundering.

Elizabeth bit back a laugh, supposing it must be flattering indeed that she drove him to such nervous nonsense - though surely they must overcome their awkwardness if they were to get on at all. “Yes, though I believe we are in agreement that what has passed between us these past few days transcends mere necessity.”

“Yes,”

he agreed, clenching his jaw as if to restrain any further indecorous rambling.

“And then, just before we were interrupted, you said….”

Elizabeth leaned closer as she looked up at him, his eyes conveying what mere words could not. She withdrew her hand from his to reach up and clutch at the lapels of his coat, and then she tugged him closer. Her hands moved up to his face and then curled around his neck as she kissed him.

Her lips brushed gently, searchingly against his, and she privately hoped she was doing a proper job of kissing him. His mouth moved against her own for a mere moment before he drew back just enough to speak. A laughter rumbled in his throat as he whispered, “I did say that, did I not? But what I meant to say was….”

And then his arms were around her, pulling Elizabeth so close she was nearly in his lap. His lips moved rhythmically against hers, guiding her this time, and she responded hungrily, arching herself against him as her fingers tangled themselves into his thick hair. His hands pulled her closer, one cradling the base of her neck as the other travelled down to her waist, and Elizabeth wished they might never break this blissful contact, never cease such passion.

They broke the kiss only when a sudden shout cut through the frosty air. Panting, Elizabeth clung to Mr. Darcy as she turned her head, searching. A flash of color in the distance caught her eye. On the lane that cut behind the manor, arcing into the winding track that led to Longbourn’s front drive, was the most bizarre carriage Elizabeth had ever seen.

Drawn by a pair of massive black horses with braids and ornaments in their manes, the long wooden carriage had a rounded top set upon a frame and four wheels painted gleaming gold. The florid equipage had intricately carved panels painted with emerald, violet, cerulean, and crimson designs, giving it the appearance of a strange little house. There was even a little window with curtains tied back - and that window opened to reveal the face of her father, who was laughing heartily in between bursts of shouting at them.

Elizabeth sprang to her feet, watching the colorful carriage round the bend, disappearing briefly from sight before emerging from behind a copse of evergreens. She could not make out her father’s words, though the sardonic tone of his voice was unmistakable. Before she could give in to her impulse and sprint back into the house, Mr. Darcy stood and clasped her hands in his.

“I will speak to your father at once - to request the honor of your hand, if you consent,”

he said, his voice hurried. “I love you, Elizabeth; I have loved you for quite some time, though I have been stubborn in admitting it to myself. When I saw you that day in Meryton - when you fainted into the snow - I felt a piece of my own heart shatter. I had to protect you, and knew at that moment that I could never part from you. When you told me of the dangers you faced, what the Red Bandits were planning, I was at once in awe of your temerity, and determined to stand by your side through every peril. The past three days have been the best of my life - the joy you have brought me, the natural ease of being with you is beyond anything I could have imagined between a man and wife, but I beg you to become mine. Dearest, loveliest Elizabeth, be my wife and I shall devote myself entirely to your every comfort.”

Mr. Darcy concluded his lengthy and hastily spoken speech by dropping to one knee before her, looking rather startled by his own eloquence. Tears welled in Elizabeth’s eyes as she gazed down at him. “I love you, too. I was so terribly blind to your goodness, but in the last few days I have come to believe you are the finest gentleman I have ever known. I would be honored to become your wife, Mr. Darcy.”

He stood and embraced her; they did not speak, for at such a moment words could not suffice in expressing what they felt. Elizabeth could hear his heart beating, even through his thick woolen coat, and she pressed her face against the warmth of his chest. Everything felt right in the world, every misunderstanding of the past was a distant and diverting memory now, a jest that would shock and amuse anyone who could see the absolute perfection of their union.

As she drew away at last, Elizabeth drank in the sight of her handsome betrothed. He appeared just as he ever was, though his countenance had softened considerably as he regarded her with unrestrained affection. And yet she saw him more fully now, every fine quality in him that she had long refused to consider possible, and such true nobility of character as she could never imagined; her perception of him was now so altered, she felt as if she were seeing him for the first time. And he was hers, as she was his.

“Come with me, sir, else I am sure I should kiss you again, and we should not leave the garden ere nightfall,”

she said, blushing as she owned to her overpowering attraction. But she had always thought him handsome - it was this, coupled with his initial offense, that had once enraged her.

Mr. Darcy took her hand. “I believe I must speak to your father together, Elizabeth - and you have leave to call me Fitzwilliam, or Will, if you prefer it - for certainly your father will grant us permission to be wed at once - I shall obtain a special license, and….”

Elizabeth laughed as they hastened into the house. “There is that Darcy pride - oh, yes, Fitzwilliam suits you very well,”

Elizabeth teased. “But I do like the sound of it.”

He brought her hand to his lips. “I should like to hear you say it again.”

“Fitzwilliam,”

she repeated, enjoying this new power to inspire such a passionate expression in him. “But perhaps we ought to speak to Papa together. I fear you overestimate your own chances of success.”

He came to a stop in the chaotic mess of the front hall. “Surely your father would not refuse my suit. We have been nearly alone together for four days and the whole village knows it - just as they have been aware, since first I arrived, of my exceedingly eligible circumstances.”

Elizabeth bit back a wicked grin. “Oh dear - my father is also aware of the comments you made the night of the assembly, and he believes that I despise you - he will surely make a great lark of it, once he has finished giving us both a thorough dressing down for….”

Elizabeth gestured broadly at the desultory wreckage heaped around them.

Mr. Darcy’s eyes went wide in alarm, before his lips began to quirk upward, and he shook his head bemusedly. “Then you shall have to join us, and explain yourself. I believe I shall enjoy listening to you defend my honor to your father.”

Astonished laughter bubbled out of her as Elizabeth led him by the hand, stepping out the front door and across the gravel drive, where the sight of the colorful carriage once again arrested her. It came to a stop just a few yards away, and the tall, broad-shouldered driver hopped down from a small perch to one side of a door at the front of the caravan. As he unhitched the pair of horses and led them away, the door of the caravan opened, and a shiny red step-ladder folded down.

Mr. Bennet appeared, paused to make a droll face at the sight of Elizabeth standing beside Mr. Darcy, and then sauntered toward them with his brow raised. “Well, Lizzy, I had imagined returning to find you all alone, and eager for the embrace of your family. Not that I should prefer you to present such a pitiful sight - but I had certainly never imagined one such as this!”

Elizabeth crossed her arms in front of her chest, her lips twisting in a sardonic smirk. She truly wished to throw herself into her his arms and weep with joy, but she would not give in so easily; she had to teach her dear Fitzwilliam how to handle her father’s odd humors.

“Neither had I expected you to return in such a stylish mode as this - indeed, I was beginning to despair of my family ever returning for me. But I can hardly complain, when I have been treated to the grandest arrival I have had the privilege of witnessing since the night of the assembly in September.”

She could not resist needling Mr. Darcy just a little, though she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, and he smiled indulgently at her jest.

“Yes, that gentleman seems to have made quite an impression on you, my dear,”

Mr. Bennet quipped. “I suppose he has made tolerable company while your family has been away, and if my eyes are to be trusted, it appears you have finally managed to tempt him. I shall require an immediate explanation, of course, Mr. Darcy.”

Over the next half hour, Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy recounted all that had transpired, though they were first obliged to bear all his shock and dismay at the shambles he beheld as soon as they entered the house. Mr. Bennet said not a word as he surveyed the front hall, but let out an exaggerated exclamation of relief that his book room was still intact.

Mr. Darcy moved the large cabinet that had been brought in to block any entry from outside; when a cold wind blew in through the open window, Elizabeth added a few pieces of wood to the fireplace and Mr. Darcy produced a flint and char cloth to ignite the tinder, breathing on the small flame until it began to blaze.

Mr. Bennet observed the pair of them working silently together, his face conveying interest and amusement, as well as some lingering wariness. He bid them sit down, and listened with every proper reaction, being alarmed, impressed, and amused in turn as they detailed the events that had transpired in his absence. Mr. Darcy handled everything with his usual laconic dignity, though Elizabeth’s improved understanding of him allowed her to appreciate that he was yielding to her, letting her tell their story in his own words. He confirmed every fact and detail when called upon to do so, but he did not interrupt her or attempt to speak on her behalf as if she was not present. She utterly adored him for it.

Elizabeth held nothing back. She spoke of her initial excitement at being home alone, and then the despair that followed, her fear and disgust at learning what the Red Bandits planned, and the growing fondness and affection she had come to feel for Mr. Darcy and, in a more sisterly way, Georgiana, as they all worked together to defend Longbourn. She praised the Hills, Wilson, the surprisingly fierce Mrs. Annesley, and the valiant Captain Denny; Mr. Darcy interjected his own praise of Elizabeth’s bravery, and spoke to Mr. Bennet of his own attachment to Elizabeth, explaining that it had been of much longer duration and that he meant to obtain a special license in London as soon as the morrow, and wed her, if possible, before they continued their journey north.

When they had finished their account of the past four days, Mr. Bennet remained silent for what felt like an eternity, his face overpowered by the gravity of the situation and his own astonishment at the outcome. He looked between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, who had held hands for the duration of their conversation, and then he threw his head back and laughed for several minutes. When he looked back at them, his mirth spent, tears poured down his face. “Oh my, I cannot wait to tell your mother, Lizzy dearest.”

Mr. Bennet had not long to wait to enjoy that particular delight, for after a few minutes of further conversation, the sounds of several more carriages could be heard coming up the driveway. Elizabeth rushed out of her father’s study and bounded out of the house, her father and Mr. Darcy a few paces behind her.

It was… everybody. The carriages her family had departed in all in a row, her relations spilling out of them. To one side of the lawn, Mrs. Hill and Alice came running toward the house, with Wilson supporting a limping but determined Johnny Hill a few yards behind them. One the other side of the driveway, Georgiana, Mrs. Annesley, the colonel and Denny were all speaking with a pair of beautiful Romany women near their caravan. Elizabeth stopped and took in the delightful spectacle, and Mr. Darcy wrapped an arm around her shoulders as he came to stand beside her. He had already offered her a handkerchief as tears of joy began to stream down her face.

Jane was the first to reach her as their relations all rushed toward the manor, toward Elizabeth. The two sisters both threw themselves into the embrace, nearly toppling over as they exclaimed their delight at the reunion. “Oh, Lizzy, we were so worried about you! Can you ever forgive us?”

Mr. Bingley was right behind his wife, echoing her sentiments. Mrs. Bennet’s shrill cries cut through the crowd that had clustered around Elizabeth, and she pressed herself into the embrace that Jane and Elizabeth still shared. “Oh my poor Lizzy! Oh, my dear! I knew how it would be! I have been so desolate without you, my darling girl!”

What ensued was another half hour of noisy chaos, and Elizabeth was relieved that it was not taking place inside the house. Lydia and Kitty predictably fawned over Denny and Colonel Fitzwilliam, Georgiana demanded to know if Elizabeth was to be her sister and proceeded to squeal with delight when the good news was announced, and Mr. and Mrs. Bennet seemed to each be confused as to how the other had arrived home.

“Oh, Hill! Fetch my smelling salts!”

“You must address her as Generalissimo now, my dear.”

“Oh, but who is that handsome officer speaking to my dear Lydia?”

Elizabeth turned to look up at Mr. Darcy, who was taking in the general discord with the brightest smile she had ever seen on his handsome face. “Well, my love, you shall never have another dull Christmas again,”

she teased him.

Mr. Bingley and Jane hovered nearby, celebrating the news of their betrothal. “We are to be brothers, Darcy! I never imagined such a thing would come to pass in so fine a fashion as this!”

“Lizzy, you must tell me everything,”

Jane cried. “You seem… pleased… by the news?”

“Yes, Jane - I love Mr. Darcy very much, though I fear we shall have to wait a while before I can tell you how that came about.”

When the commotion of introductions and explanations had finally diminished, Mrs. Bennet proudly informed them that she had one final surprise for them all. Anticipating that there would be scarcely anything in the larder suitable for a Christmas meal, they had stopped at the Red Lion in Meryton, and Mr. Bingley had generously paid Mr. and Mrs. Hawkins an outlandish sum in exchange for use of a large private room; the innkeeper and his family were, even now, preparing a special Christmas luncheon for the Bennets.

The happy event had now been deemed a celebration of Elizabeth’s bewildering betrothal to Mr. Darcy, of whom Mrs. Bennet had swiftly become very fond. Mr. Darcy and his relations, the Hills, and everybody present was invited; only the gypsies demurred, asking instead that they be permitted to camp at Longbourn overnight before they made their way onto London.

Mr. Bennet cheerfully informed his Romany travelling companions that this was not even the tenth strangest thing to happen at Longbourn in the last week, and that they were welcome to stay as long as they chose. Their large and rowdy party began to organize themselves, electing to walk into Meryton, allowing their horses to rest before retrieving them after the meal, and Elizabth let out a sigh of relief that she had not yet been obliged to bear her mother’s reaction to the inside of the house. It would be best to save that until after the tale had been told once more, over a hearty meal that would see them well satisfied before facing that tremendous shock.

But as they began to organize themselves and mill down the driveway, Mr. Gardiner observed that they had once more forgotten a daughter of the house, for Lydia had gone inside to refresh herself. A moment later, one of the upstairs windows opened, and Lydia leaned out of it, her face nearly purple with rage as she bellowed, “Lizzy, what have you done to my room?”