Thanks for stopping by to read my second post in the Advent Calendar. If you missed the first, you can find it here. I thought it would be nice if my two posts were about ‘before and after’: Mr Darcy’s Christmastide in the years before and after his marriage.
My take on his 1811 Advent season might as well have been called ‘D is for Darcy in Denial’. To his good fortune, he married wisely 😊. Please read on for a glimpse of what Mr and Mrs Darcy’s first Christmas might have been like. The year is 1812 and there’s excitement, merrymaking and good cheer as their friends, relations and neighbours gather at Pemberley to spend the festive season together. But is everyone having a great time?
* * * *
Unrestrained laughter burst out again from the table by the window where the Gardiner children, the two Miss Westcottes, the Linton boys and Lord Mellor’s children were engaged in a lively game of snapdragon, their little faces glowing with the flicker of the brandy set aflame, as well as with the thrill of the catch.
Lady Mellor looked up from her conversation with Miss Bingley.
“How delightful it is to see the youngsters so well entertained,” she exclaimed with a soft glance towards her offspring, and her companion knew she simply had to offer a thin smile.
This sort of entertainment had plagued her for a fortnight, and Miss Bingley privately decided she had already had her fill of it. Oh, where were the days of proper conversation, of well-bred and dignified diversions, of genteel company – with no tradespeople and their obnoxious brats in sight? They were playing blind man’s buff in the gallery the other morning, of all the revolting pastimes, and the ensuing din could rouse the dead. As it could now. The drawing room was ringing with their shrill, grating voices. Good gracious! One could scarce hear oneself think!
Mrs Hurst’s knowing glance and the roll of her eyes her only consolation, Miss Bingley turned to Lady Mellor and endeavoured to conceal her disgust. However misguided and obviously blinded by maternal affection to the ills of such unsavoury amusements, her ladyship was after all the only person worth conversing with.
Mrs Bennet was holding court at the other end of the room, praise be, for with the greatest determination Miss Bingley could not bear her appalling comments and still keep a civil tongue in her head. The tradesman’s wife sat with Georgiana and Mrs Westcotte, no doubt taking them in with her airs of gentility. The tradesman, who had joined them two days prior, was taking pains to amuse his host, Lord Mellor and Miss Bingley’s own imprudent brother with whatever story he saw fit to tell and as for the lady of the manor, she was busily encouraging the gaggle of unruly children in their noisy pastime, supported of course by her younger sister.
Miss Bingley fought the urge to shake her head. What had Pemberley come to?
“And do you often travel to town, Ma’am?” she asked, only to find to her intense vexation that she had once more lost Lady Mellor’s attention, due to some further development in the corner by the window.
“Cousin Elizabeth, can we have a game of bullet-pudding now? Can we? Can we, please?” asked the impudent little thing who was in the habit of pestering Darcy a dozen times a day, and Miss Bingley inwardly shuddered at the prospect of yet another revolting amusement as the lady of the house enthusiastically welcomed the suggestion.
“What game is that, pray?” Lady Mellor’s youngest piped up, understandably inexperienced in what passed for entertainment in Cheapside and the wilds of Hertfordshire.
To Miss Bingley’s further disgust, ‘dear Mrs Darcy’ hastened to enlighten her: “We have a large dish with a ‘pudding’ of flour piled high upon it and a bullet placed on top. Then you take turns in cutting the ‘pudding’—”
“Till the bullet drops,” the youngest Cheapside brat cut in without being checked for it. Little wonder none of them had any manners.
“And then whoever made it drop must seek it in the flour—”
“Not with their hands, though—”
“But their mouths,” the lady of the house concluded, and Miss Bingley well-nigh gasped.
Oh, aye, just as she had thought. This held great promise of being the most appalling pastime anyone could think of, and she could only hope that Darcy enjoyed having his drawing room caked in flour. It was, after all, no more than he deserved.
“Shall we try? Come, shall we?” the Gardiner brat pestered, and predictably a large pewter dish filled with flour was duly brought.
“I think I shall watch for now,” one of the Miss Westcottes haltingly announced, as well as Lady Mellor’s eldest, but her sisters and brother piped up:
“Can we play, Mamma? You do not mind the flour, do you?”
Miss Bingley’s eyes narrowed as the lady gave permission with a complacent smile, and vowed that if she were ever to be plagued with having children of her own, they would not suffer from criminal maternal indulgence. How Lady Mellor did not shudder at the prospect of their faces and attire covered in flour was utterly beyond her, Miss Bingley decided and, with horrified fascination, she resigned herself to see the game commence.
Before long, the room was ringing with loud squeals coming from white-faced little monsters perversely encouraged by that woman, who did not appear in the least perturbed by the fact that her dress and hair were specked with flour and – good heavens! – so were Georgiana’s, for she had come to watch and, shockingly, had chosen to stay.
To her distress, Miss Bingley feared that her scowl must have been noticed, for none other than Mr Darcy came to inquire into Lady Mellor’s comfort and hers, and ask if they were well-entertained.
(Photo:BBC)
In other times, she would have known how to answer, and would have been vastly cheered by his strictures upon such indecorous company. But in other times they could not have been there – and had not been. They were there now because she was there, Darcy’s choice of wife and Pemberley’s mistress. Bah! The besotted fool deserved all the mortification she would subject him to.
“I am indeed, I thank you,” Miss Bingley finally answered his inquiry, echoing Lady Mellor’s words, but with distinctly different sentiments. “I am vastly entertained. What a… singular game this is, Mr Darcy. Is it a Pemberley tradition? For I can see that dear Georgiana takes uncommon pleasure in it.”
The words escaped her before she could control them, and for a horrible moment Miss Bingley thought she might have gone too far. But the ever-decorous Mr Darcy did not appear ruffled by the appalling spectacle, nor did he take offence at her double-edged comment. Instead, he seemed… content, as he quietly answered, “Aye, Madam, I daresay she does.”
But then another cloud of flour spread around the table, greeted by fresh bursts of laughter, and Miss Bingley had the exquisite satisfaction to see him wince.
“Will you not join the merry crowd, Sir?” she smiled sweetly, quite proud to note there was no treacherous hint of gloating in her voice.
His reply was prompt, as was the offer of his arm – and she darted her eyes towards it with a hint of panic.
“Gladly. Shall we? Lady Mellor, would you kindly excuse us? Your interest in children’s amusements does you credit, Miss Bingley, and I am looking forward to seeing you introducing your brother’s little ones to such delights. I daresay you will be quite the doting aunt.”
Miss Bingley drew back slightly but, with a great deal of effort, her bright smile remained frozen in place.
“I thank you, but I would rather watch from here. As to my brother’s children, they will scarce need me, surely, when their other aunts can instruct them a great deal better. You cannot possibly imagine me wishing to compete with them.”
“Indeed, Ma’am, I cannot,” Darcy replied smoothly and bowed, leaving her to follow his progress towards his wife with narrowed eyes, before Miss Bingley remembered to school her features into yet another mask of feigned good-humour that tugged at all the muscles in her face.
* * * *
Photo: J Starnes
Voices blended in harmonious rejoicing rose to fill the small church, beautifully decorated with winter greenery, and Elizabeth felt her heart soar with the uplifting message, as well as with the exquisite earthly happiness of hearing her husband’s rich tones at her side.
She cast a glance towards him, then returned to her hymn book, tears of joy at their first Christmas as husband and wife suddenly blurring the small print. In her most hopeful dreams she could not have wished for a better, and her voice, slightly tremulous for a few moments with the sudden sensibility, steadily gathered strength into a song of gratitude and praise.
On impulse, she slipped her hand under the crook of Darcy’s arm, only to have it covered with his and pressed in a silent message of shared happiness, and the deepest love brightened her countenance as their eyes met and held.
Shafts of sunlight entered at sharp angles through the windows, illuminating the merry congregation. Bathed in the joyous radiance, they all took their seats once the last words of the hymn rang out, to listen to Reverend Webb’s short but heartfelt sermon.
Soon afterwards, with the message of hope and glory glowing in their hearts, they emerged from the church into the frosty morning to exchange season’s greetings with their neighbours, gathered in mingling groups along the path. Many familiar faces were there, as well as unexpected additions, as Elizabeth was to note a short while later when, having turned away from Mr Kettering and his family, she found herself greeted by Lord Davenport, her husband’s former schoolfellow from Cambridge.
“My lord,” she curtsied. “A pleasure to see you, Sir. You are visiting your sister, I presume.”
“I am, Ma’am. In truth,” he added with a smile, “I found myself lured here under false pretences, but it does not much signify. ‘Tis a beautiful country at any time of year.”
“False pretences?” she laughed. “How so?”
“My brother had enticed me away from my own winter comforts with promises of great sport…”
“And did the Derbyshire wildfowl fail to meet your expectations?”
“I fear the matter is yet to be decided,” his lordship replied lightly, “as Lord Halwell has been housebound with a severe cold these eight days together.”
“I am sorry to hear that, for his sake and yours. As you can see, there are several able-bodied gentlemen in residence at Pemberley. They are to try their luck again this coming Friday, or so I hear. You are most welcome to join them if you are so inclined, and perhaps come and stay with us for a few days, if your relations can spare you.”
“I thank you, Ma’am, it will be a pleasure,” the gentleman said and bowed and, with another smile, Elizabeth went to speak to his sister and her new family.
Photo: J Starnes
Since Miss Bingley had always made it her particular business to know everybody who was anybody, she was of course acquainted with Lord Davenport, albeit only slightly. Yet that morning she felt that, little as she knew of him, she owed the gentleman a particular debt of gratitude, for it was thanks to him that she was granted the most delightful opportunity of finding the master and new mistress of Pemberley at odds with each other.
Shortly after church, Miss Bingley retired to the library. It was hardly her favourite place, regardless of how often she had extolled its virtues, but at least it was the only public room where she felt safe from Mrs Bennet’s inane prattle or those awful children’s gambols. And she most assuredly was not to be driven to her own second-rate quarters or to the freezing outdoors to escape them!
She lost interest in her book soon enough though, and was tempted to follow Louisa above-stairs and disrupt her rest for a few precious moments of sanity and unrestrained conversation, when words overheard through the slightly open door behind her provided more cheer than she had in a fortnight.
“I wish you would ask before extending invitations, Elizabeth,” Darcy’s stern tones reached her, not loudly, but with sufficient strength to carry from the adjacent study to the spot where she was sitting, clutching her closed book and not quite believing her ears and her stroke of luck. It would be mortifying to be discovered there, Miss Bingley knew full well, but the exquisite opportunity was far too good to miss, regardless of the risks. Her intrepid choice was soon rewarded for, after a slight pause, that woman’s voice followed, devoid of all its contrived sweetness.
“I see. I shall endeavour to remember that in the future. Or better still, perhaps I should not presume to invite anyone at all.”
Miss Bingley nearly chuckled at the icy insolent tone and wished she could witness Darcy’s reaction to it. Still, mindful of old sayings about gift horses, she restrained herself and resolved to be thankful for what she was given. Sadly, it was rather disappointing, for instead of being incensed at her demeanour, the besotted fool apologised.
“Forgive me, it was badly put. I did not wish to—”
“Point out so clearly what I could and could not do? I thank you. How foolish of me to assume I could treat Pemberley as my home!”
“It is your home!”
“Is it? I should say not, if I must ask for your permission—”
“Elizabeth, that was not my meaning, and well you know it! Of course you do not require my permission to do just as you please. I have every confidence in your judgement as regards your own acquaintances, but I would thank you to reciprocate when it comes to mine. And as such, I would have appreciated being consulted before Davenport was invited to come and stay.”
Silence fell, surprising and once more disappointing, for Miss Bingley dearly hoped for yet another heated retort. It did not come. Instead, that woman endeavoured to put contrition in her tones. Shaking her head at her artfulness and Darcy’s folly, Miss Bingley strained to listen.
“Forgive me. I seem to have misunderstood. I thought you would enjoy his company.”
“I tolerate his company. In town and in small doses. As far back as Cambridge I knew him to be a gambler, a wastrel and a rake. What is there to enjoy?”
“Oh, dear. This is not good, now, is it? My love, I am heartily sorry! For my error, as well as the display of temper.”
“I daresay I deserved it, for censuring you in the manner of the overbearing ogre you refused to marry—”
That was novel, Miss Bingley thought. Of whom was he speaking? Vexingly, she was not to find out. That woman eagerly interrupted: “Oh, pray do not say that! I know you are nothing of the sort.”
“We both know I have been so, and worse. Elizabeth—”
He was not allowed to finish. Sickened, Miss Bingley could only speculate in the very long ensuing silence that they were – what? Embracing? Kissing?
“Can you forgive me?” her voice came at last, in a cloying entreaty. “I should have known better, after all this time. And… I really should have asked before inviting Lord Davenport, or anybody else.”
“For my permission?”
Miss Bingley huffed in exasperation. Now he was laughing with her? What was there to laugh about? And then she laughed too – that low, coquettish laugh of hers that was so utterly provoking.
“I would choose to call it your advice.”
The book still clasped in her hands, Miss Bingley stood and walked out of the library on mercifully sturdy floorboards, no longer caring overmuch if they discovered she had been eavesdropping anyway. To her way of thinking, Christmas at Pemberley already was a penance in itself. (© 2013 by Joana Starnes)
* * * *
Ah, don’t we just love to poke fun at Miss Bingley! The Darcys’ other guests, even the mouthy and unstoppable Mrs Bennet, are much better company. It was lovely to imagine them all gathered at Pemberley to spend Christmas together playing parlour games, singing carols and causing cheerful mayhem all the way to the Twelfth Night Ball.
If you’ve read From This Day Forward, my first novel and my one and only P&P sequel, you could probably recognise these fragments and might also remember the other two Christmas seasons featured there as very different landmarks to our dear couple’s married life.
If you haven’t read this book yet, you can check it out for free in Kindle Unlimited, and I hope you’ll enjoy my speculations on what the Darcys’ marriage might have been like.
Thanks for reading my ‘before and after’ posts. Have a wonderful Christmas, full of laughter, joy and love!
16 comments
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Oh, my word, where did you discover that flour game – it’s too funny! I’m guessing it’s research and really existed!
Thanks for reading, Diana, I’m so glad you liked it! It really existed, and Jane’s family played it. No idea if *she* played it too, but with her wonderful sense of humour she must have had a great time watching it or taking part. I get the impression it was a children’s game, but I may be wrong. There are all sorts of accounts of grownups playing silly games when there wasn’t much to do but read, frolic or listen to Grandma snoring in her corner :D. I found the description in ‘Jane Austen’s Christmas’ by Martha Hubert, which includes a fragment from Fanny Austen’s letter to a friend, a Miss Chapman, who had never heard of ‘that dish.’ So Fanny Austen wrote back to explain it was a game, not a kind of pudding, and then went on to describe it. She said that when the bullet fell they had to poke about with their noses and chins till they found it and they weren’t supposed to laugh for fear of inhaling the flour and choking on it. But it must have been so hard not to laugh when they saw their friends and siblings with their faces caked in flour!
Thank you for such a wonderful start to a cold Friday morning!
Loved this snapshot into the Darcys’ marriage.
Thank you, Mary, I’m so glad this was a good start to your morning. Have a lovely weekend and a wonderful Christmas!
Much better Joana. Miss Bingley seems to be enjoying spending Christmas at Pemberley! She must be so thrilled to see Darcy loving spending the season with his beloved Elizabeth and her family. Obviously she really wished to join in (I think the flour would definitely have improved her looks). She really seemed to enjoy her visit to the library as well – perhaps she should have visited Louisa after all 🙂
Thank you for sharing this post. Joana, merry Christmas to you and your family.
LOL Glynis, I loved that, the flour improving Miss Bingley’s looks 😀 :D. I bet she was eager to join in the game and loved spending Christmas with the happy couple :D. Thanks for the fun comment and warm wishes! Merry Christmas to you and all your loved ones and see you soon!
Loved it! I’m reading along and thinking, I have read this before…sure enough your first book I ever read and loved! I must go back and re-read it! Ah yes, the ever effervescent Miss Bingley, she does bring such joy and light to one’s holiday celebrations! Thank you for this delightful post on such a gloomy rainy day! Merry Christmas & Happy New Year!
Oh, yes, we can always trust Miss Bingley to add joy and goodwill to any occasion 😀
Thanks, Carol, I’m so glad you read and loved ‘From This Day Forward’ and that the post gave you a giggle on a rainy day. Have a very happy Christmas and a wonderful New Year!
Loved the excerpt. I had forgotten those scenes that put Caroline on edge. What fun to provoke her. Well done. I certainly enjoyed this book when I read it. Thanks for adding your excerpts to the Christmas celebrations. Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.
We do love to provoke Miss Bingley, don’t we, Jeanne? 😀 I’m so glad you liked the book and this post. Thanks for stopping by and have a joyful and relaxing Christmas season!
Thank you for the excerpt. I just checked out the book earlier today from KU – and am looking forward to it even more now. I love when Caroline gets her comeuppance. I am anxious to see what else you have in store for her.
Many thanks for reading the excerpt and leaving this lovely comment, Mary. I hope you’ll like the full story. Happy Holidays and have a wonderful New Year!
Thank you for the excerpt. I haven’t read this book yet. I ook forward to reading this sequel. Loved that photo of the bookcases filled with books…just wondering is that your library…NIce..
Oh, Buturot, I wish!!!! No, it’s not a photo of my library, but from one of the historical houses that always inspire me and make me think of Pemberley. Thanks for stopping by to read the Christmassy excerpts from my P&P sequel and I hope you’ll like the book. All the best and Happy Holidays!
I do not feel the least sorry for Miss Bingley. After all, she does not even deign to refer to the elder Gardiners by name…only as “the tradesman” and “the tradesman’s wife” when she herself is the daughter of such people. And she even looks down her (rather long) nose at Lady Mellor whose children are enjoying the same entertainments as the “tradespeople and their obnoxious brats.”
Miss Bingley will make a wonderful mother, will she not?
Joana, thanks for this lovely and fun Christmas romp with a very out-of-sorts Miss Bingley!! 😀
Warmly,
Susanne 🙂
Dear Susanne
Thanks so much for reading the post and for sharing your thoughts! That’s what I dislike about Miss Bingley too, that she has the gall to look down on the Gardiners and even the Bennets even though her family’s fortune was made in trade. I wonder how she would have behaved if her parents and grandparents were alive and there was someone around to remind her of her less than sophisticated background.
So glad you thought the post was a fun Christmas romp and that you enjoyed it! Have a magical Christmas season and a very happy New year!
Best wishes,
Joana