Mistletoe and Mischief Read online

  William turned and gazed at her, and she fancied she could see his heart in his eyes. “I believe that I shall be eager to experience the happiness I felt with my mother once more. The resumption of that particular tradition could never bring pain, especially if I share it with you.”

  “I will do whatever it takes to make you happy,” replied Elizabeth with a smile, “for I love you so very dearly.”

  “And I love you,” replied her betrothed.

  They skated in silence for several more moments, each basking in the warmth of love and the companionship of the other. Elizabeth gazed about the pond, watching her sisters skate with the Colonel, Anne, and Georgiana. This was what Christmas was about, she decided. The close ties of family, the observance of the Savior’s birth, and the hope of peace throughout the land. This year would be the first of many such wonderful times spent together with these wonderful people, and she could not be happier.

  “Perhaps we could persuade my mother to place a tree in our parlor,” suggested Elizabeth. “I would love to begin our traditions together this year instead of waiting until next.”

  “I am certain she will allow us to do so, my dearest Elizabeth,” replied Mr. Darcy. “After all, I am her favorite son-in-law-to-be, am I not?”

  Elizabeth simply laughed.

  The End

  The Matchmaking Schemes

  of Anne de Bourgh

  by

  Lelia Eye

  Anne is a character with a lot of potential. We see her as sick and weak in Pride and Prejudice, but if that problem is taken away, then it seems she might have at least a little of her mother's officiousness in her. Of course, her attempts at interference are much more pleasant to face than her mother's.

  Anne de Bourgh loved the smell of Christmastide.

  The decorations of fir, rosemary, yew, and sundry evergreens all combined to create a comforting smell that filled Anne's heart with gladness. For years, her sickness of body had forced her to experience the outdoors from a distance through the use of her phaeton, and she always greatly anticipated the opportunity to be surrounded by such ornamentation as tree boughs, ivy garlands, and holly sprigs during the Christmas season. During those times, she could easily imagine herself walking through a forest, touching plants here and there with the fondness of a mother being reunited with children from whom she had long been parted.

  A few years ago, however, her life began to change for the better. Anne's cousin, Fitzwilliam Darcy, had located a promising young doctor who was not mired in traditional methods and who was willing to experiment with different approaches. Anne's mother, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, had grumbled about Darcy's interference, but she had agreed to allow the doctor an opportunity to treat Anne. That had turned out to be the greatest blessing of Anne's life.

  The doctor's care and guidance slowly breathed life into Anne's frail body; anyone who saw her would have sworn she was a new person entirely within a year of receiving treatments. It had taken some time for Lady Catherine to own that her daughter had improved, but she had finally done so, and now Anne had been given the opportunity to spend Christmas at Darcy's townhouse in London. She felt grateful beyond measure for all that her cousin had done for her, but she was at a loss as to how she could repay him. At least, she felt that way until an introduction to the Bennet family revealed that Darcy seemed to have a particular interest in a delightful young woman called Elizabeth Bennet.

  As one who had been ill of body for some time, Anne had grown accustomed to observing others closely in lieu of expending energy conversing with them. It had not taken long to see how often Darcy's eyes fell on Miss Elizabeth. Of course, even had she missed the obvious signs, she could not have failed to see how eagerly Darcy introduced his sister to the young woman. Still, after Miss Elizabeth and her family departed, Anne made certain to find a way to speak to her cousin alone so that she might fully gauge his attachment.

  “Did you spend much time in company with the Bennet family in Hertfordshire?” asked Anne, her tone nonchalant.

  “Indeed. Bingley has been courting Miss Bennet, so our calls at Longbourn were quite frequent.”

  Having seen Mr. Bingley's behavior in company with Jane Bennet, Anne was unsurprised. “He must have been glad to learn they would spend Christmas with their relations in town, for that meant your plans and theirs aligned quite well.”

  “Certainly, he was.”

  From the Bennets' recent visit, Anne understood that Mr. Bennet had come to London well in advance of the rest of his family on some urgent business, and judging by the affection evident between Mr. Bingley and Miss Bennet, she wondered whether the pair could have become secretly engaged in Hertfordshire and had only been waiting for an opportunity to gain Mr. Bennet's approval. Still, regardless of the extent of the couple’s affections, she thought her cousin had taken Mr. Bingley’s and Miss Bennet’s interest in each other rather well.

  “I am surprised you have not encouraged Mr. Bingley to make a better match,” said Anne. “After all, I understand from my mother that the dowries of Mr. Bennet's daughters are not much of which to speak.”

  “Bingley has money enough for his purposes. A greater consideration for a man of his character should be his feelings for his future bride. She is the daughter of a gentleman, so he need not look elsewhere as long as her feelings match his own.”

  “Should not love be the greatest consideration for most men looking to marry?”

  “Certainly not,” said Darcy.

  “What about you, Cousin?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Do you intend for love to be a factor in your choice of a bride? You have money enough and connections enough, so you have been afforded a great deal of freedom that many young men lack. I know we had decided long ago that we would not suit, but have you given consideration to someone who might?”

  Her cousin remained quiet, either mulling over the response to her question or trying to decide whether to answer.

  “I suspect you may already have someone whose affections you wish to gain,” said Anne, probing further.

  Darcy looked at her for a few moments, scrutinizing her. “I do not believe I have ever seen your meddling side before. Perhaps something of your mother's character has been passed down to you after all.”

  Anne smiled. “If you wish to keep your cards hidden, then so be it. I shall simply find a different way to obtain the information I want.”

  Then she left him before he could inquire as to what precisely she meant.

  It took some prodding before Lady Catherine finally conceded to host a dinner party. As Georgiana was too young to serve as hostess and Miss Bingley had left with the Hursts to stay with Mr. Hurst's family, the task fell to Lady Catherine. Anne attempted to volunteer to serve as hostess herself, but Lady Catherine had declared the position to be too strenuous for Anne to undertake. Darcy was easily convinced of the pleasure to be had in such a party by Anne, though she suspected that might have been because a good portion of her guest list was comprised of the Bennets and Gardiners.

  The late Lady Anne had enjoyed hosting dinner parties, so the Darcy townhouse was more than equipped to host a large number of guests. Fortunately, while notice of the party was of necessity short, all of the guests invited agreed to attend.

  Darcy's cook and housekeeper had both been none too pleased with the short notice, but they had proven themselves capable of meeting the challenge with the addition of some temporary staff, and five days after Christmas found the party seated at a splendid feast. Savory mince pies, bright green florets of broccoli, glistening apple and pear preserves, steaming roast beef, rich plum pudding, several types of seasonal fish and prawns, wild boar, and a variety of other dishes served to tempt the hungry.

  Anne had, through a series of maneuvers, succeeded in ensuring Darcy and Miss Elizabeth were seated next to each other, and now, from her place across the table and a few seats down, she waited and listened, attempting to determine whether there wa
s any evidence of the sparks of romance flying.

  “I can scarcely recall the last time I saw a feast such as this,” said Miss Elizabeth to Darcy. “I do not believe I have ever even seen such a spread on Christmas Day itself.”

  “My aunt and cousin have outdone themselves,” responded the gentleman. “My cousin has not been to London since she was quite young due to a chronic illness that she has finally overcome, so I suspect the excitement of novelty has had some part to play in it.”

  “This is to be a celebration, then,” said Miss Elizabeth with a smile.

  “I suppose you could call it such,” said Darcy, dipping his head.

  When Anne looked at the slight smile that tugged at the corners of her cousin's mouth, she became convinced that her cousin was close to falling in love with Elizabeth Bennet.

  As she watched, she noticed Miss Elizabeth struggling to cut something on her plate—the roast beef, Anne believed—and she frowned to herself, wondering whether she should talk to the cook or leave the matter alone.

  She was not the only one who noticed Miss Elizabeth's difficulties, however, for Darcy offered up his services to Miss Elizabeth over the young woman's protests.

  Miss Elizabeth's cheeks were flushed as she offered her gratitude, and Darcy smiled at her. “It is no trouble at all, Miss Elizabeth. You need only ask should you require assistance.” He colored then, as if realizing he had shown too much of his feelings, and he promptly returned his attention to his own plate.

  “Your offer is too broad, Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Elizabeth. “You should specify only that you wish to provide aid should my cutlery foil me further.”

  “I do not believe my offer to be too expansive. Rather, whatever aid I can give is gladly yours.”

  As Anne watched her cousin's dark gaze settle on the young woman, she had to cover her mouth to hide her gasp. She was wrong. Her cousin was not falling in love with Miss Elizabeth; rather, he had already fallen completely.

  Miss Elizabeth appeared to see something unexpected in his gaze—or perhaps it was the words he offered—as her cheeks darkened even further, and she looked away.

  Darcy cleared his throat and began eating once more, and for a few minutes, the pair ate quietly.

  Anne began attacking her own plate with a vengeance. She was determined now to find a way to push her cousin closer to Miss Elizabeth by the end of the evening. She needed only to figure out a proper scheme and execute it.

  After dinner, while everyone gathered to play the seasonal games she had planned, the first tactic Anne tried was to call her cousin and Miss Elizabeth to stand beneath a sprig of mistletoe under the pretense of showing them a festive piece of décor. The mistletoe had been situated in an out-of-the-way corner of the house, so she did not fear that they would be seen and cause a big to-do. Unfortunately, as Anne attempted to coax an oblivious Elizabeth Bennet to move so that she stood beneath the piece of greenery, Mr. Darcy said: “Miss Bennet, please be wary. There is a piece of mistletoe nearly overhead.”

  Miss Elizabeth halted her steps and focused on where he was pointing. “Ah, I see what you mean. Thank you, Mr. Darcy. You have saved me from making a most dangerous misstep.”

  From behind the other young woman, Anne held her hands up in question and tilted her head with a glare, trying to silently demand that her cousin advise as to the reason for overturning her plans.

  Darcy merely gave her an innocent look as he responded to Miss Elizabeth. “You are most welcome, Miss Bennet. There are some who would wish to do mischief with such an innocuous-seeming plant.”

  Anne shook her head in exasperation and then proceeded to complete the rest of her pretense, asking their opinion concerning the placement of an evergreen bough bedecked with ribbons.

  Darcy watched her carefully the whole time, and she knew that he, at least, had recognized the thrust of Anne's efforts that evening.

  When they joined the rest of the party, a game of Charades soon commenced. Anne attempted to steer the riddles toward themes involving love and courtship, all while spearing Darcy with a meaningful look. These efforts were flatly ignored.

  During a game of bullet pudding, she suggested they partner off into pairs of male and female, but everyone except Mrs. Bennet gave her such scandalized expressions that she played off the suggestion as a joke. Perhaps it had not been such a brilliant idea regardless, for the game lent itself more to individuals playing than to teams, but she had started grasping at any opportunity that came to mind.

  As the night wore on, Anne began to view her endeavors as hopeless. She would need to rally and ensure she was better prepared the next time she attempted to bring her cousin and Miss Elizabeth closer. Perhaps, she thought, she could involve Georgiana Darcy in the next scheme—once she had concocted one, of course.

  There was, however, an unexpected gleam of hope. Over Lady Catherine's protests, it was suggested that a game of Snap-dragon be played.

  Anne had not often taken part in Christmas games in the past because of her ill health, but she had long known how the game worked. A wide and low bowl was placed in the center of the table containing heated brandy and a multitude of raisins and almonds. Once the brandy had been set aflame, the lights in the room were extinguished, and everyone watched as the blue flames danced in the shallow bowl over the raisins and almonds.

  “I will be the one to snatch the most snap-dragons,” proclaimed Lydia Bennet as she removed her gloves, “for you know the one who does shall meet their true love in the coming year!”

  “I think you will be disappointed, Lydia,” said Kitty Bennet, “for I intend to be the one who grabs the most!”

  Laughing, the girls started off the game's chant after fully divesting themselves of their gloves, and then they proclaimed themselves to be dragons and demons as they burned their fingers and placed the blazing raisins on their tongues, whereupon they extinguished them by closing their mouths.

  Glancing at Darcy and Miss Elizabeth, Anne watched the former lean close to the latter and murmur: “Should you moisten your fingers each time before reaching for a raisin, it shall lessen the incidences of burning.”

  Miss Elizabeth gave him a look over her shoulder and teased quietly: “That is called cheating, Mr. Darcy!”

  “No,” said he, “it is merely being protective of your hands. To tell the truth, I have never understood the appeal of this game.”

  “The appeal is the danger, Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Elizabeth with a smile. “Nothing worth having is easy to obtain.”

  The young woman, who had already removed her gloves, then took her turn at reaching into the bowl. Unfortunately, her two youngest sisters had begun to jostle each other, and Miss Lydia was pushed against her, causing Miss Elizabeth to fall forward, part of her arm splashing into the fiery brandy.

  As Miss Elizabeth cried out in pain, Darcy pulled her up out of the bowl and backward. He snapped at the two young Bennets: “You must be more careful!” Then he pulled Miss Elizabeth's bare arm up to examine the afflicted area in the blue light of the flames.

  Anne's visibility was limited in part by the dim lighting and by Mrs. Bennet, who had hurried forward to assess the damage, but she thought the young woman's skin bore signs of redness.

  “I would suggest you place a cool cloth upon your arm,” said Mr. Darcy. “I do not believe there shall be any lasting damage, but your arm faced the lick of the flames for far too long.”

  “I appreciate your concern, Mr. Darcy, but I shall not perish from a minor burn.”

  “Lizzy, you must listen to Mr. Darcy,” said Mrs. Bennet. “You do not want a blemish to mar your skin. You should allow Mr. Darcy to tend to you and aid you in finding something to soothe the burn.”

  As Darcy drew the young woman aside, presumably to locate a cloth and moisten it, Anne sighed to herself. Though Darcy had been given the opportunity to show gentle care—and had comported himself nicely—she supposed it was too much to expect the young couple to bond over such a painful experienc
e.

  On account of the eagerness of Lydia and Kitty Bennet to resume, the game of Snap-dragon started up once more. Anne, however, withdrew from the game at her mother's worried insistence.

  “I have always despised this game,” proclaimed Lady Catherine to her daughter, “and I do not believe we should offer it next year.”

  Anne murmured her own acknowledgment and let her mother continue to rant about her dislike of Snap-dragon and its dangers. As Lady Catherine did so, Anne watched the other revelers laughing and snatching flaming raisins from the bowl, all while pondering what her next move should be. The Christmas party had clearly failed to accomplish her goal. Perhaps she might enlist the aid of Mrs. Bennet next time in addition to Georgiana. She had a feeling Miss Elizabeth's mother would be a willing participant with the proper inducement.

  After moistening a towel and wrapping it about Elizabeth's arm, Fitzwilliam pulled her from the room when no one was looking and brought her to the out-of-the-way corner of the house where Anne had taken them earlier in the evening.

  “Are you certain you are well?” asked the gentleman quietly, gazing at Elizabeth's covered arm in concern.

  “It shall take more than a mishap at Snap-dragon to induce me to tears,” said she, favoring him with a smile.

  He uncovered her arm and gently caressed the bare red flesh there. “How extreme is the pain you are undergoing?”

  “Not extreme at all,” said she in reassurance. “There is another subject that I should much rather discuss. Your cousin, Miss de Bourgh, appears to be trying so hard in her matchmaking schemes. Do you think we should at least reveal to her that we are secretly engaged? I fear this latest development may dishearten her.”

  Fitzwilliam smiled. “I should much prefer not to reward such a busybody. Rather, I think we should make her suffer the agony of not knowing for a little while longer.”