Christmas at Darcy House

“No. I am not rejecting you.”

He gave her a pained smile. “We should join the others at the table.”

***

Darcy had been hoping he could announce their engagement at Christmas dinner, but he also feared that he had pushed Elizabeth too hard and too fast. This was not a matter in which he could afford to appear high-handed.

He ground his teeth as they joined the rest of the party at the dining table. Courting Elizabeth had strained all his patience, and the master of Pemberley was not accustomed to waiting for what he wanted. Darcy took a deep breath, reminding himself that she was worth waiting for. He would simply have to dig deeper and find even more stores of patience…somewhere.

The dining table was ablaze with candles, and more illumination shone from the chandelier, which was adorned with mistletoe. The table almost groaned under the weight of the food: potatoes, leeks, mince pie, jellies, turkey, mutton, venison, and more. Darcy’s cook had outdone herself; he did not know how they would eat even a fraction of it.

After prayers of thankfulness, Darcy led his guests in a toast to the festivities of the Christmas season. He was heartened by the expressions on the faces around the table. Although Mr. Bennet still regarded Darcy cautiously, his eyes no longer narrowed suspiciously at every one of his utterances. And the Gardiners seemed disposed to rather like their host. The children—who were eating their dinner in the nursery—appeared to be having a wonderful time, and Georgiana loved seeing them.

Conversation at dinner was convivial. The game of charades had eased some of the formality among relative strangers. The Darcys, Bennets, and Gardiners—as well as one Fitzwilliam— were talking with great animation. Darcy rarely hosted dinners at his house, and it was almost always for close relatives. Not naturally of a sociable disposition, he had never before hosted a big Christmas gathering. But the experience was unexpectedly enjoyable, and he found himself hoping for another such gathering. Darcy allowed his mind to wander, imagining future Christmases with Elizabeth by his side—perhaps with their own little ones receiving presents and sitting in Aunt Georgiana’s lap.

Hopefully nobody noticed his little sigh of pleasure.

Hopefully Elizabeth would accept his proposal so that future might become a reality.

Darcy was startled from his reverie by a knock at the front door. Who could possibly be arriving at this hour—on Christmas day? Conversation around the table died down as everyone looked around in puzzlement.

Finally, Bates, the butler, entered the room. His face was a blank mask, but Darcy knew him well enough to recognize disapproval. “Miss Bingley is here, sir,” he announced.

“Miss Bingley?” Darcy’s voice actually squeaked in surprise.

“She said you invited her family for Christmas dinner, but she is the only one who could attend.”

Damnation! She was presuming on the long-ago invitation. “I had invited the Bingleys, but with Mr. Bingley out of town, I assumed they had made other arrangements.” More the fool he. Arriving alone and without confirming the invitation was highly irregular. But, of course, Caroline Bingley would take any opportunity to presume upon their friendship. Now that she was at Darcy House, he could not turn her away without appearing churlish.

Darcy nodded to Bates. “Please show her in and have Hillerman set another place at the table.” Fortunately, the table seated twenty people easily. If only I could have Hillerman put her all the way at the other end…

Miss Bingley swept into the room triumphantly, a vision in orange satin with red feathers adorning her hair. Everyone stood to acknowledge her; bows and curtsies were exchanged.

She surveyed the assembled guests wit

h disdain but evinced no surprise at the guest list. Somehow she had known who would be attending dinner at Darcy House. What was her game? “A thousand apologies for my tardiness!” she trilled as she sat. “It was very clever of you to start without me, or the food might have grown cold.”

A headache—the same headache Miss Bingley always provoked—began to form at the back of Darcy’s neck. Hillerman served Miss Bingley. As she ate, a somewhat stilted conversation resumed. At the head of the table, Darcy was far enough from Miss Bingley that he could not hear what she said. Her conversation was rarely worth hearing, but he worried she might spew vitriol at Elizabeth.

During a lull in the conversation, Miss Bingley directed her words to Darcy. “It is very good of you to invite the Bennet family for dinner.” Her voice dripped with condescension as if the Bennets were foundlings from an orphan home whom Darcy had taken in for the night.

Darcy did not know how to respond to such an odd compliment, so he said nothing.

“I would not have expected it of you,” she continued after a pause.

“Why not?” Darcy arched a brow at her.

She shrugged, spearing a potato on her fork, affecting unconcern. “You expressed such distress about the family when Charles was in Netherfield. Why, you were the one who convinced him of the desirability of separating himself from the family! I would not have expected you to seek out such a connection.”

Darcy had fallen neatly into her trap.

It did not matter that she exaggerated his role in their removal from Netherfield. The substance of the accusation was correct. Never before had Darcy harbored quite so many regrets about the man he had been in Hertfordshire.

Everyone stared at Darcy, dumbfounded. Bennet’s face was turning red, as if he would explode at any moment, while all color had drained from Elizabeth’s face. “You convinced Mr. Bingley to leave Hertfordshire and abandon Jane?” she asked.

What could he possibly say?

Chapter Fourteen