A Darcy Christmas

“But Mama!” They cried with identical whines and pouting faces.

“We will take you to the ballroom first, how about that? But you must promise not to try climbing the tree, agreed?”

“Yes, Uncle Richard.” Pledged in tandem, and after merry Christmas wishes and proper good morning greetings, Colonel Fitzwilliam and his son jogged away briskly with the cheered boys dangling from their hips.

“Those two will be the death of me, I swear. Why me? The girls are so dainty and mild. Then I am cursed with twin hellions. Now I find out that their father was a crazed child before he became the sedate man I married. Why did he not tell me this beforehand?”

“Would it have changed your heart, my Lady Essenton?” Darcy asked with a laugh.

Georgiana flushed prettily. “Unlikely. But I would have been forewarned!”

“Where is your husband anyway?”

She grunted. “Leaving me to flounder while he hides in the music room practicing the piece we wrote for today.” She brightened, squeezing her brother’s arm as they strolled the wide corridor leading to the north wing. “It is very good, William, if I say so myself.”

“I have no doubt it will awe and delight, dearest sister. And the tree is a fabulous idea, despite the overzealous enthusiasm displayed. Your frequent excursions abroad for concerts and study have paid off in numerous ways, this German custom only the latest inspiration.”

“This ‘German custom’ has been practiced by our royal family for years. Queen Victoria has written of her fondness for a decorated tree. You wait, my skeptical brother. Soon everyone in England will have a tree for Christmas. Once the Pemberley tree is decorated with the glass ornaments we obtained while in Lauscha and the German lametta, silver tinsel, in addition to the ornaments the family has made, the ribbons, and candles, you will be as awed as we were while living in Hamburg and Vienna. The Christmas markets, they call them weihnachtsmärktes, are incredible. I have trunks of ornaments at home, but brought a large box of my favorites.”

“You misunderstand me, Georgiana. I am quite delighted at the concept of a tree. I personally chose the Scots pine hewn and now erected in the ballroom. Days spent on horseback scouring the woods, mind you, before we found a gorgeous specimen that may not contend with your German varieties, but is stunning and will decorate nicely.”

“Are we talking about the Christmas tree? It seems to be the prime subject these days, even to the point of wandering dark hallways and injuring body parts.”

Georgiana and Darcy turned at the sound of Fiona’s voice, noting her amused smirk and Alexander’s wince. Lizzy was walking alongside her faintly limping son and by the twitching of her lips it was clear she was privy to the story behind Fiona’s remark.

“Our son may look exactly like you, my love, and we know his temperament is remarkably similar. But apparently he did not inherit your uncanny ability to sneak quietly.”

“Oh? I have never noticed. He is adequately stealthy when we hunt.”

“Very well! Since I know my humiliation will be publicly broadcast, I may as well recount my clumsiness to the entire family all at once and get it over with.”

Fiona nodded and continued to smile brightly. “Indeed it is a perfect Christmas story. My father will love it!” Alexander blanched, immediately remembering what happened minutes after his embarrassing stumble. Fiona merely laughed and lifted to kiss his cheek. “Do not fret. I promise not to mention how I alleviated your pain.”

Her dimpled smile and wink made Alexander groan and redden. The others burst out laughing.

The formal dining room was nearly filled to capacity. Between the recent wedding of Alexander and Fiona, Noella’s eighteenth birthday, and the advent of the Christmas tree to this year’s holiday, nearly every relative and friend of the Darcys had been invited to celebrate this Christmas at Pemberley. Most were housed in the manor, with every bedchamber in use for the first time in memory. Other friends from the neighborhood would be arriving after church for the tree decorating and luncheon birthday extravaganza. Due to the multitude of people anticipated and the size of the tree selected by the Pemberley groundsmen and Master, the massive ballroom had been converted into a comprehensive parlor, music room, and gift repository.

Breakfast was an organized affair, unlike the usual free flowing manner, with food kept at the sidebar. Place settings were assigned and courses served in a regimented schedule. Of course, this controlled timetable in no way meant that calm and serenity reigned.

The Master and Mistress of Pemberley entered the room arm-in-arm, taking in the gay atmosphere with happy smiles. But before either could speak, the birthday girl’s voice interrupted their thoughts and cut through the lively air.

“As far as I am concerned, Hugh Pomeroy can fall off a cliff. Good riddance, I say. He better not say a word to me or I will give him a piece of my mind!”

They turned to see their eldest daughter flouncing angrily toward them, her face a thundercloud. She was talking to Jane and Mary, both women trying hard not to laugh.

The object of Noella’s harsh dismissal stood several paces inside the door talking to Michael. He glanced up at the irate declaration, but instead of looking worried he grinned and started chuckling. Michael grabbed his arm and forcefully propelled him across the room to a curtained alcove.

“All right, what did you do to my sister now?” He looked at his friend with murder in his eyes. “I saw you two sneaking away last night but trusted your honor, Hugh Pomeroy. I can and will beat you to a bloody pulp if you hurt my sister.”

Hugh pointedly stared at the colorful bruise encircling Michael’s swollen right eye. “That I am well aware of, my friend. Your beating me, I mean. Your success in the boxing ring leaves me no doubt of that. But quit glowering at me, will you? I think it is rather what I didn’t do that has her up in arms.” And then he began to laugh. He snuck a peek through the drapes to see a visibly furious Noella ranting on to Audrey and several of her female cousins. “Oh, this is too rich!”

“What in blazes are you talking about?”

Hugh opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by the abrupt parting of the curtains. “Are you two hiding in here?”

“Go away, little boy. This is a man’s conversation.”

Nathaniel merely rolled his eyes at his brother, ignoring the severe glare, and stepped into the alcove. “You might want to stay out of sight for a while, cousin. Unless you enjoy tongue-lashings. Noella may well sear the skin off your bones this time. What did you do anyway?”

Hugh shrugged. “Miss Darcy may have been informed by a reliable source that she was to be proposed to last night.”

“She did?”

“And you didn’t?”

“Yes,” he nodded to Nathaniel, “and no I did not,” he directed to Michael, who whistled and shook his head.

“Who told her that?”

Hugh flushed slightly but flashed a cocky grin. “I might have mentioned my intent to Hannah and Audrey, and Deborah and Margaret, who probably shared the secret information with Noella. Just speculating.”

“And then you didn’t propose? Are you insane? If you want to die an early death, let me do it. It will probably be less painful.”

“Thanks,” he said dryly, “I’ll keep that in mind. Relax, I have a plan.”

“Napoleon had a plan too. Look how well that turned out.”

“I am confused,” Nathaniel frowned. “Have you spoken to Father yet? I mean, we all know Noella’s been after you for ages, and frankly I think you’re a loon to marry her, but are you or not?”

Hugh stared at Nathaniel, weighing carefully before speaking. “Listen, Nat. This is serious, so you must remain silent. Your sister’s happiness depends on it.” Suddenly sober and exhibiting maturity beyond his ten years, Nathaniel nodded. Michael looked as solemn as his younger brother. “Here it is. I spoke with Uncle William and my father months ago, before Noella’s debut in Town, as a matter of fact. Your father was firm on waiting until after Noella experienced one Season.” He grimaced, the momentary flash of pain as the confident cast fell from his face more telling than his words. “Blast, that was awful. Her dancing at Almack’s, flirting with those blighters, watching