A Merry Darcy Christmas

“You were with Mr. Darcy, were you not?” Mr. Collins asked. “That was his carriage, I believe.”

Elizabeth said that she was.

“Pity, I did not get a chance to speak to him and give him my congratulations,” said Mr. Collins.

“Your congratulations, sir?” Elizabeth asked.

“Why yes,” Mr. Collins said. “My congratulations on his engagement to Anne.”

His engagement to Anne? Mrs. Darcy had said nothing of that to her, Elizabeth thought, and her expression must’ve revealed that fact to Mr. Collins.

“Had you not heard?” he asked. “Of course, it has always been known that he was to marry Anne. And his engagement was to have been formally announced at the unveiling of the cupola on Christmas Eve.

“But that was such a busy time, and there were so many distractions, that it was decided it would be better to announce it at the Twelfth Night ball.”

“His engagement to Anne is to be announced then?” Elizabeth asked, still surprised. It seemed very odd to her that Mr. Darcy would have said nothing about it to her. He had not even mentioned it to Mrs. Rose when he had attempted to explain that Elizabeth was not his new bride.

“Yes,” Mr. Collins said. “A further consideration was that there are to be many more illustrious personages present for that occasion. Indeed, I am told that—and you must keep this in strictest confidence, Elizabeth—that the Prince Regent himself is to be in attendance,” Mr. Collins lowered his voice theatrically at this last.

“You did not know?” Charlotte asked, her voice was gentle.

Elizabeth shook her head and saw her friend’s expression soften.

“The Prince Regent,” said Mr. Collins to himself. “I must think of a suitable compliment for his Highness. Something which seems spontaneous, and is not too flattering, and yet conveys my respect, no, my admiration . . .”

“I’m so sorry, Lizzy,” Charlotte said.

Elizabeth could only look at her.

Chapter 15, Cards on the Table

New Year’s Day, 1812

“I’m looed, drat my luck,” said Mr. Hurst in disgust. “Perhaps Miss Bennet has the right idea after all.”

“Northover beats me,” said Darcy. “Again.”

“By single card, alas,” said Northover who had shown a flush.

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet loves reading above all things,” said Caroline Bingley who was also in the game. “It is her sole pleasure.”

Elizabeth didn’t bother to reply. She had once before schooled Miss Bingley concerning her recreational preferences and had no desire to waste further time again explaining herself.

Elizabeth was indeed reading a book, although she was at the moment of Miss Bingley’s incorrect observation enjoying listening to Georgiana play the pianoforte.

Mr. Pettigrew was standing nearby Georgiana—it was he who had encouraged her to perform—while Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, Caroline Bingley, and Mr. Darcy were engaged at a game of Loo.

It was a quiet day, for the party was tired from the evening before when even Mr. Hurst had been moved to engage in the celebration of New Year’s Eve, singing Auld Lang Syne at the top of his lungs.

Jane and Mr. Bingley had just departed the drawing room in the company of Mrs. Jenkinson, Anne’s companion, who had insisted on showing them a collection of paintings which were housed in the wing of the house in which she was resident. Elizabeth appreciated Mrs. Jenkinson’s discretion in volunteering, as it were, to chaperone the couple who clearly wish to spend time alone together.

Jane and Mr. Bingley had repaired whatever misunderstandings had kept them apart and were now inseparable. Elizabeth looked at Mr. Darcy who was, uncharacteristically for him, engaged in the card game, grateful for the fact that he had not interfered in their relationship as he had previously done.

The days since Boxing Day, when she had learned that his engagement to Anne was to be announced at the Twelfth Night Ball, had sped by and, while he had been polite to her, they had not spoken beyond that.

She had expected—no, to be honest, she had hoped—that, after the pleasant time they had enjoyed together on Boxing Day, that they might spend more time together, but to her disappointment, Mr. Darcy had not taken any initiative in that regard.

It must be true then. He was to marry Anne.