Christmas at Pemberley: A Being Mrs Darcy Christmas Vignette

Hello everyone,

For today’s Advent calendar treat, I have a short story for you. It takes place the Christmas after Being Mrs Darcy ends (so about four months later). If you haven’t read the book, I think you can enjoy it anyway; just know that Elizabeth and Darcy did not have a great start to their marriage, and one of the reasons was Georgiana, who was not happy with her new sister.

Elizabeth and Georgiana sat by the fire in pleasant green and white sitting room. It was Christmas Eve, and by Georgiana held a handful of notes and by her side was a small pile of wrapped parcels.

Elizabeth consulted a list and said, “John makes the last of the footmen. We are finished.” With an exaggerated expression of relief, she let the paper drift to the floor and rubbed a hand over her distended belly. She was six months pregnant with her first child. Reaching to the tray by her side, she picked up a piece of cheese and popped it into her mouth.

Georgiana smiled and placed the notes, which contained the family’s thanks and best wishes, along with varying degrees of money, on the polished mahogany side table. “The boxes for the tenants have all been delivered, as have the ones for the poor.”

“Which leaves the village party and tomorrow’s dinner.”

Elizabeth watched as her sister-in-law pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders, and her cheeks took on a touch of colour; it was sure sign Georgiana was going to say something and she was not sure would please Elizabeth. They were much easier with each other than they had been previously, but Georgiana—now so aware of how dreadfully she had treated Elizabeth for the better part of a year—was often overly cautious in expressing her opinion or asking questions.

“Are you looking forward to tomorrow?” asked Elizabeth before biting into a strawberry jam tart. She was convinced that the best fruit in England grew at Pemberley.

Georgiana nodded. “I am glad we do not have guests staying this year. You and Fitzwilliam must be glad, too. You were so busy all autumn.”

The previous Christmas, the Fitzwilliam family had been at Pemberley. It had been a difficult period in Elizabeth’s life. She had struggled to feel comfortable in her role as Mrs Darcy and to gain the acceptance of her new family. When Fitzwilliam had proposed they have a quieter festive season this year, Elizabeth and Georgiana had readily agreed.

Elizabeth laughed. “Between running around half of England visiting people, going to town for several weeks, then having my family here, you mean? We could all use the peace after having my parents and sisters here.” Mary, Kitty, and Lydia had accompanied Mr and Mrs Bennet on the trip. The three weeks of their stay had found Pemberley noisier than ever.

When Georgiana said nothing, Elizabeth gave her hand a quick squeeze. “I know their presence was difficult for you, Georgiana. I do not mind you admitting it.”

Georgiana stammered a polite denial that did not fool Elizabeth, before saying, “I had several very interesting conversations with Mr Bennet.”

Her father had spent most of his time in the library.

“I am glad you enjoyed his company. Georgiana, I love my sisters, but I see their faults well enough. As I told you before they arrived, I did not expect you to discover three new best friends in them. I wish it could be otherwise, but the four of you are too different. You were polite and gracious, and I appreciate your help in entertaining them. It is fine that you did not like them.”

Georgiana dropped her chin and nibbled her lip. Almost too quietly for Elizabeth to hear, she said, “I like you.”

Tears filled Elizabeth’s eyes, and she felt a sudden burst of affection for the girl who had caused her so much grief. Georgiana had spent the last half year working so hard to become a better person. For Georgiana to say that she liked Elizabeth showed real progress.

Elizabeth embraced her, and whispered, “I like you, too.”

At just that moment, the baby kicked hard enough and in just the right place for Georgiana to feel it. Georgiana sat back and stared at Elizabeth’s belly. She smiled and said, “I am looking forward to being an aunt.”

“I am sure you will be a wonderful one.”

“A wonderful what?” a deep voice asked.

Both ladies turned to look towards the door. Elizabeth’s heart skipped, and she grinned at her approaching husband. It she was alone, she would have jumped to her feet and gone to him to lessen the time before she could feel his arms around her. She had not fallen in love with Fitzwilliam until they had been married for ten months. But when I fell, I fell very far! To her, he was the handsomest, most caring, and best of men. It was an odd trick of fate that threw us together. How I hated having to marry him, yet I cannot imagine a gentleman who could possibly suit me better than he does.

“Aunt. Do you not agree?” Elizabeth asked.

“I do.” Fitzwilliam claimed the chair next to her, took her hand, and kissed it. It was always his way; he had told her that he could not bear to be so close to her and not touch her.

“I will try to be,” Georgiana said.

After expressing his approval, Fitzwilliam asked how their final preparations for the holiday had progressed. After a few minutes if pleasant conversation, Georgiana excused herself to see if Mrs Reynolds needed any assistance with arrangements for the next day, when a number of their friends were joining them, just as they had the previous year. They would be a very merry party and celebrate Christmas as it ought to be—with love, good company, and an abundance of laughter.

Fitzwilliam moved to sit beside Elizabeth. He kissed her tenderly, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“What has you in such high spirits?” he asked. “It is more than the holiday.”

With triumph in her voice, she announced, “Georgiana said that she likes me!” A tear rolled down her cheek, and he brushed it away with his thumb.

“Well, I suppose that is momentous enough to justify such a display, Mrs Darcy. It is more than many of your reasons for crying of late.”

Elizabeth laughed. She could see the pleasure in his eyes, despite his teasing. “It is not my fault. Blame your child.”

He grinned and placed his hands and then his lips upon her belly. He whispered something to the baby growing within her, but she could not make out the words.

They settled themselves side-by-side, Fitzwilliam’s arm around her shoulder, her snuggled close to him, and watched the flames dancing in the tall, ornate fireplace. Elizabeth adored such times with him, when they were simply together, enjoying a quiet intimacy. It made her feel loved and complete in a way she had not known possible or necessary to her happiness.

After several minutes, Fitzwilliam said, “And I am grateful that you have been so willing to give her this second chance—or perhaps it is the third or fourth.”

“Enough of that.” She slipped an arm around his waist and inched a little closer. “I always did hope she and I would be friends, and when I saw it was what she wished, too—and that she was determined to do her part to see it happen—how could I refuse? I know it began as an attempt to please you and make our lives together more convivial. To know that it has become more is the best Christmas gift I could receive.”

They kissed for a minute before returning to their former cozy position.

Fitzwilliam again broke the silence. “Perhaps we ought to have adopted the Bennets’ tradition and exchanged Christmas gifts. I wish I had something special for you.”

He was forever giving her gifts and hardly needed Christmas as an excuse. “You gave me a wonderful gift when you arranged for my parents and sisters to visit and then tolerated their presence for three weeks. Seeing you make such an effort to know my father was a great thing.” She laughed again. “Even though I know you sought his company so often so that you could avoid my mother and sisters!” He blushed, and she continued, “Knowing we need not be estranged from them, or even dread seeing them, as I did last spring, is a true gift, Fitzwilliam. And”—she took his hand and laid it on her belly where their child, created from their love, again stirred—“this little one is another marvellous gift.”

“He, or she, is your gift to me, not the other way around.”

Elizabeth rested her head on his shoulder. “What do you think next Christmas will be like? I cannot help but imagine introducing our baby to the festive season. Their little hands reaching for the decorations. Perhaps giggling during the entertainments or while the older children play games at the village party.”

Fitzwilliam kissed her head. “Do not forget showing them the snow for the first time. Or the delights of spring and summer, then the autumn as the leaves change colours, and whatever other delights you are anticipating. I cannot recall them all.”

“Are you making fun of me?” Elizabeth asked with a laugh in her voice. “I am excited about being a mother.”

“And I am excited about being a father.”

They smiled at each other, shared a kiss, and fell into a conversation about what to name their child. They had decided on a name for a girl; it would be Annabelle, to honour Elizabeth’s paternal grandmother, Amabel, and Lady Anne Darcy. The trickier decision was what to call a son. Elizabeth was certain she was carrying a boy, and nothing Fitzwilliam said about not being anxious for a male heir could shake her conviction.*

She said, “Since you do not want to use Fitzwilliam or William and your second name is George—”

“Which I absolutely refuse to consider,” he interjected. While George had been his father’s name, it also belonged to George Wickham, whose actions had injured them and Georgiana.

“I have no desire to use Bennet or my father’s name,” she said, “and there are not any other family names we can use without disappointing someone. David?”

Fitzwilliam shook his head. “I do not like the alliteration of David Darcy.”

They tried a few more names, but they either were not favourites for one of them or belonged to a cousin or someone they did not care for.

“Alexander,” Elizabeth suggested.

Fitzwilliam was silent for a moment. “Alexander Edward Darcy. What do you think?”

Elizabeth stood and held her hands out to him. He took them and climbed to his feet. When she tilted her head up to him, he kissed her.

“It is perfect,” she declared. “Now, I must go prepare for dinner, and so must you. I am looking forward to Cook’s delicious feast. You would not believe how hungry I am!”

When he glanced at the empty tray, she laughed. “I did not eat it all myself; Georgiana helped. Come, Mr Darcy; escort me to my room.”

“It would be my pleasure, Mrs Darcy.”

***

Darcy was a contented man. It was after dinner, and he sat in the withdrawing room with his wife and sister. The ladies had decorated the room with all manner of seasonal greenery—holly speckled with bright red berries, laurel, rosemary, and more. He was comfortably ensconced in an armchair near the fire. His stomach was full with a delicious meal, and on the nearby table there was a tray full of special sweets for them to enjoy. There would be more food and gaiety the next day, but today was for the three of them.

He smiled as he watched Elizabeth and Georgiana at the pianoforte. They had been playing but stopped a moment earlier so that Elizabeth could whisper something to Georgiana, who nodded and giggled. Six or seven months earlier, he despaired of them ever having a comfortable relationship, let alone a good one, and he had worried about what he would do if his sister refused to give up her antagonism for Elizabeth, whom he had grown to love so very, very much.

I cannot believe how much has changed since last Christmas. Then I saw only what I wanted to see, and as a consequence, I missed so much that was important, especially about Elizabeth and how unhappy she was. But that is behind us now. Georgiana is becoming everything I had hoped she would be, thanks in large measure to the example Elizabeth sets for her. The two of them are friends, and we are a family—a happy family, who likes each other’s company. In just a few months, I shall be a father. How much joy that child will bring to Pemberley!

“I thought you two were planning to entertain me,” he said. “It seems that you are too busy sharing secrets.”

Elizabeth, who glowed with happiness, laughed. “Are you bored, Fitzwilliam? Feeling neglected?”

“Yes to both. Come along, ladies. Play, sing.” He waved a hand as though impatient.

Elizabeth laughed again, and even Georgiana—still unaccustomed to hearing him and Elizabeth tease each other—blushed and bit her lip. When Elizabeth said something to her, she nodded and smiled.

For the next little while, they played, and Elizabeth sang Christmas carols. When they were finished, the three of them sat together near the fire. Darcy made sure Elizabeth was comfortable with a stool for her feet, the best position by the fire, and a rug for her lap in case she felt cold. While his ladies enjoyed tea and the sweets, he read aloud. Soon after, Georgiana excused herself for the night.

Darcy escorted her to the door of the room. Before opening it, he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her head. For her ears only, he said, “I am very proud of you, Georgiana, and I love you.”

Her arms, which were around his waist, tightened, and he felt her nod. Once she was away, he rejoined Elizabeth.

She asked, “It was a good evening, was it not?”

“It was, my love. Are you fatigued?”

“A little. I might be too comfortable to move from this chair, however. I am in very great danger of being spoilt by you. If you keep on this way, I shall be corpulent and indolent by the time this one makes an appearance.” She ran a hand over her stomach.

“I might believe you if I did not accompany you on at least one long walk each day and if I did not know how much you still do at Pemberley and in the parish. I suspect I shall have a difficult time convincing you to slow down as your time approaches.”

Her only reply was a smile. When she began to push herself out of the chair, he jumped to her side and held her elbow, which made her roll her eyes.

“I might require such assistance in another two months, but I am not so large yet. I want to see the stars.”

“And then you will retire? It is almost midnight, and—”

“I need my sleep. I agree to your terms.”

They walked to the French doors, and Darcy pushed aside the heavy drapes. He stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, as they looked out into the dark night. The sky was lit up with stars.

Elizabeth whispered, “It is beautiful.”

Darcy kissed her temple. “It is pleasant. You are beautiful, my Elizabeth. Have I told you today how much I love you?”

She shook her head.

“I do love you, so much my heart seems to swell to three times its normal size whenever I think of it. My life before you seems so colourless, so empty. I cannot imagine my life without you, and I am so grateful for all that we have.”

She turned in his arms and caressed his cheek. “As am I. I love you, too, my darling husband.”

They were sharing a kiss when the sound of the antique longcase clock in the passageway chimed, signalling the start of a new day.

“Happy Christmas, Mr Darcy.”

“Happy Christmas, Mrs Darcy.”

*On 18 March 1813 she was proved correct when Alexander Edward Darcy was born.

I hope you have enjoyed this story. Whatever and however you celebrate this December, I wish you health and happiness. Lucy