Mistletoe and Mischief Page 14

  “You are welcome,” said Elizabeth in reply. “I am pleased you find my efforts adequate, as I was unsure of the level of talent I possessed when beginning to craft the wreaths.”

  “Well, I find them to be wonderful,” said Georgiana. She then looked at her brother. “Do you not agree?”

  “It is much too ostentatious,” said he in disgruntled tones as he turned to direct the placement of Georgiana’s trunk, which had been unloaded from the coach.

  “Never you mind,” said Georgiana. “I like it, and you could as well if you would only forget the past and acknowledge the present.”

  “I cannot forget, and neither should you!” said Mr. Darcy, his voice rising. He then turned on his heel and left the room, anger evident in the set of his shoulders.

  “Have I caused offense?” wondered Elizabeth aloud. “If so, it was unintended.”

  “Do not be troubled,” said Georgiana. “The Christmas season is one of sorrow for my brother, and Christmas Eve is especially so. It was on this day five years ago that our father passed from this earth. My brother has not celebrated the day since then and forbids the servants to make mention of it to him, although he does not begrudge them their own observance of the holiday.”

  “Had I known,” said Elizabeth, “I should never have raised the subject. I will remove them at once.”

  “Wait,” said Georgiana, placing her hand on Elizabeth’s arm to delay her. “He gave his approval when you raised the subject; he cannot rescind it now. My brother and I will speak privately later, as we have each Christmas since our father’s passing, and I will discuss the issue with him then. I do not believe he feels antipathy toward the season itself; he simply cannot bring himself to regain the joy he once possessed.”

  “I should be the one to speak with him,” said Elizabeth, “so that I might apologize for my insensitive actions.”

  “It will be better to leave him be until he joins us this evening. At that time, his anger should have run its course, and he will hopefully have realized the foolishness of his behavior.

  “Now, show me what you have done to brighten Pemberley manor in preparation for Christmas Day.”

  Elizabeth took Georgiana to see the wreaths and boughs she had created with Jane. Georgiana, ever the polite young woman, praised the Bennet sisters’ ingenuity in crafting the ornaments from the scant supplies they had located.

  Elizabeth felt an intimacy with Mr. Darcy’s sister that she had never experienced before, even with Charlotte Lucas. In Georgiana, Elizabeth saw a young woman growing into her responsibilities as the daughter of a prominent house. In the months since Elizabeth had last seen her, the girl had matured in stature and in demeanor, as had been witnessed with the self-assurance she had shown in standing her ground against Mr. Darcy’s outburst.

  When at last Georgiana had been shown all of the decorations that had been crafted, she and the two Bennet sisters took seats in the sitting room to share the important news of the time.

  “Georgiana,” said Elizabeth when the conversation had run its course, “are you privy to the location of the unburnt piece of the previous Yule log?” Tradition demanded that the new one be lit with an unburnt portion of the one from the previous year, but Elizabeth had hesitated to broach the subject due to the staff’s reactions to any discussion of Christmas traditions.

  Georgiana looked with wide eyes at the hearth, upon which rested a timber too immense to be safely burned. In apparent awe, she leaned toward Elizabeth. “I noted the wood at the hearth when we entered the room but did not realize you had made plans to observe this tradition. Is it important to you that we do so? It has been so long since the Yule log was lit in the manor house that there may not be a fragment remaining to be found.”

  The two Bennet sisters and Georgiana turned as they heard Mr. Darcy enter the room. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, only to close it as he glanced at the hearth. After observing it for a moment, his face showed his realization that the freshly cut timber held a special significance.

  His voice holding an undercurrent of hostility, he asked: “Might I ask why such a large log has been set in the fireplace?”

  “I asked the groundsman to cut it and place it on the grate,” said Elizabeth steadily. She recognized Mr. Darcy’s growing anger, but the tradition of the Yule log was one with which she never intended to be parted. “It is to serve as the Yule log, which will imbue the manor with good fortune throughout the coming year. It needs only a fragment from the last one to light it.”

  “This has gone beyond the bounds of what I can endure,” said Mr. Darcy in a tone which brooked no dissent. “I granted your request to decorate Pemberley, provided your decorations were small and unassuming, but my wishes were not heeded. I said nothing to Georgiana when she belittled my opinion and adopted your own, but my efforts seem to remain unappreciated. I have attempted to maintain serenity amidst the uproar you have brought to Pemberley despite my inclination to do otherwise. I was willing, and somewhat eager, to pay no mind to the disregard for my wishes, which is a testament to the depth of my attachment for you.

  “I cannot, however, tolerate this assault upon what for me was once the very essence of Christmas. This was the evening I relished most of the season. It was on this night our Yule log was lit; it was a time for reflection and discussion concerning the twelvemonth past. The year my father honored me with the solemn duty of lighting the log is one I will cherish forever. I cannot allow your actions to dilute the memory of joyful Christmases past.

  “Snell!” said he, his call bringing the servant at a rapid gait into the room. “Have one of the stable hands assist you in removing this log from the house.”

  “Where should I take it?” asked Mr. Snell.

  “It matters not,” said Mr. Darcy. “As long as it is not to be found in the manor, it can be disposed of anywhere you find convenient. Give it to one of the tenants or add it to the wood pile.”

  “Please do not remove it from the house,” pleaded Elizabeth as Mr. Snell went in search of assistance. “The tradition of the Yule log has been observed in the Bennet family for generations and is among my most cherished of memories. All in my house eagerly anticipate its lighting each Christmas Eve.

  “I beg of you, Mr. Darcy—please allow the presence of this burning timber to establish newer, joyous recollections, ones which you will have cause to call upon with fond remembrance for years to come.”

  “I have no need to replace the memories of my father,” said Mr. Darcy firmly. “They are all I have left of him; I will not allow them to fade until he is no more thought of than last evening’s meal. I cherish the recollections I possess and will not have them relegated to the distant past.”

  “I suggest nothing of the sort,” replied Elizabeth. “I encourage you to remember your dear father with every fiber of your being, clinging to your memories and holding them close to your heart. I take no issue with your doing so. Rather, Mr. Darcy, I would encourage you to realize that your refusal to permit new experiences will only cause further anguish as time inevitably dims those recollections of your father. If you do not open your heart to the creation of additional images of tender moments, you will erect a wall of armor about your heart which can do naught but leave you lonely and unhappy, having only distant recollections dimmed with age until they are no more.”

  Mr. Darcy’s head shook from one side to another as Elizabeth pleaded with him. Looking up, she peered into his eyes, wanting to find some glimmer of understanding and compromise, but in this, she was to be disappointed.

  “Snell!” shouted he. “What is delaying you? Remove this timber from the manor at once.

  “I cannot permit your removal of every memory I hold dear,” said he to Elizabeth.

  Unfortunately, Elizabeth’s anger at his intractability had reached its limit. “If this is your final decision, then so be it. Your memory of Christmas with your father has become a shrine to him in your thoughts. I cannot remain in a home that is no mor
e than a mausoleum, where joy and friendship are cast aside in fear of disturbing recollections of occurrences long since passed. If you could be so kind as to direct Mrs. Gardiner’s coach to be readied, we will return to Longbourn to celebrate Christmas in a kinder, more joyous location.”

  Her decision rendered, Elizabeth turned and fled from the room.

  “It was a mistake of monumental proportions to extend the invitation in the first place,” growled Mr. Darcy to himself. “It is not one I shall ever be tempted to make again.” Irate, he left the room for another shortly down the hall, his entry into the room accompanied by a slamming of the door that possessed such force it shook the surrounding walls.

  “What shall we do?” asked Georgiana once she and Jane had found Mrs. Gardiner and explained what had happened. “I fear this argument has opened a chasm too difficult to cross, for the pride of each has been wounded and might never be assuaged.”

  “I will speak with Elizabeth,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “She is a reasonable girl, although headstrong. She and I have always been close; I have no doubt she will listen. Whether she can be persuaded against departing, however, is something I cannot predict.”

  “I thank you,” said Georgiana. “In the meantime, I will undertake to speak with my brother.”

  Leaving the sitting room, Georgiana approached the door behind which her brother had hidden. After taking a deep breath to prepare herself, she knocked with a firm hand.

  “Enter,” came the short answer, upon which she turned the knob and let herself into the room. Fitzwilliam was seated at his desk, the windows behind him displaying a dreary day, the mood of which had seemingly penetrated the manor itself.

  Georgiana seated herself on the settee and regarded her brother. Even now, when he was at his most stubborn, she was fond of him.

  Still, his actions today were cause for concern. She had known of the special bond between father and son and had always looked up to her brother in pride because of it. What had, until today, escaped her notice was the depth of despair he felt in the loss of their father some years before. In truth, Mrs. Reynolds had on occasion alluded to changes in Fitzwilliam since that Christmas Eve, but in the insensitivity born of youth, Georgiana had dismissed them as unimportant.

  The argument Georgiana had witnessed had shocked and frightened her. The brother she observed in disagreement with Miss Elizabeth was unrecognizable, someone she had no wish of seeing again.

  Georgiana gathered her resolve and began: “Your mood troubles me, Brother. Miss Elizabeth meant no disrespect in placing the block upon the hearth; her desire was to lighten your mood and inspire you to partake of the joy of the Christmas celebration.”

  Her brother glowered at her, his anger at the perceived insult reminding her of a white-hot canker that burned within and would, she surmised, never recede unless she could reach the kind-hearted man who still dwelt inside.

  “She has overstepped her bounds,” said he, “and refuses to acknowledge her offense.”

  “She was not attempting to show disservice to the memories of our father,” said Georgiana. “Her only crime was her attempt to instill the wonder of this most joyous of seasons in the hearts of all who reside within the bounds of Pemberley. Her observation of the mausoleum-like quality found within these walls is far too accurate for comfort, and I feel certain you will agree if you can find it within yourself to pay honest attention to the issue.”

  “She knows not of what she speaks,” insisted Mr. Darcy. “I choose to forego decorations commemorating a celebration in which I find no joy; I do not prohibit the servants and tenants their observance, nor would I attempt to do so.”

  “If this is true, then why did you make a decision so foolhardy as to invite Elizabeth and Miss Bennet to partake of the season with you? You, of all people, should have suspected that the lively Elizabeth would have a penchant for celebrating Christmas with an overabundance of zeal. Did you assume her love of the holiday would temper itself until her return to Longbourn?

  “I fear you have turned her away in a most fearsome and inhospitable manner, and in so doing, you have forfeited her love. I adjure you, Brother: go to her and beg for her forgiveness. If you do not, you will find yourself alone and miserable, with no one to share your joys or your sorrows.”

  Georgiana rose and, after one final sight of her brother, left the room. In her heart burned a desire to see the two, her closest friend and her dear brother, mend their differences and come together in love once again, but ensnarled in her thoughts was the fear that an irreversible decision had been made.

  Mrs. Gardiner sat in Elizabeth’s room, watching the girl as she emptied drawers and closets, throwing clothing and jewelry into her trunks in an untidy heap.

  “He had no right to treat me in that way,” said Elizabeth to her aunt, whipping a pair of gloves up in the air as if she wished to strike Mr. Darcy with them. “I meant no harm in my attempts to bring cheer to this depressing estate.”

  “While your intentions were good, I believe it was your actions with which Mr. Darcy took exception,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “My understanding is that he was incensed by the notion you wished to erase the imprint of his father upon his character. I know you, Lizzy, and I can see you have been hurt by what you perceive as his callous disregard for your wish to infuse the manor with the spirit of Christmas. Please do not fall into the trap of perceiving insult where none was intended.”

  “He is an insufferable brute,” said Elizabeth, anger still smoldering within her. “That he should presume my intentions were such as he described was the vilest of insults. I will not allow him the pleasure of mistreating me further.”

  “I do not believe Mr. Darcy derived any pleasure from his assessment of your motives or your disposition toward the memory of his father. Rather, I believe he venerates the man and will fight to his last breath to preserve the image of him in his mind. His lashing out at you was nothing more than a response to his fear of losing something he holds dear. In this, you should not judge him too harshly.”

  Elizabeth sat in a chair by the window, having paused at her aunt’s counsel. Her anger, while still aroused by the words she had exchanged with Mr. Darcy, was abating as she took time to consider the points her aunt had raised. Sympathy for Mr. Darcy attempted to arise within but was quickly tamped down as she fought to defend her feelings of rejection and misuse. Unwilling to retract her wounded pride, she resumed packing until in exasperation she noted she was alone in her activity.

  “Have you already made ready to depart?” inquired she of her aunt. “Shall I be the last to complete my preparations?”

  “Let us wait, Elizabeth,” said Mrs. Gardiner in a voice so soft Elizabeth strained to interpret the words. “Tomorrow is Christmas. It is not a day for travel, but rather for quiet observance with family and friends. Longbourn will be there if we wait a day or two, and travel in this season is so much improved when undertaken with proper preparation. We may delay our departure until then with no harm aroused.”

  Elizabeth looked to her aunt, wondering at the hesitation she heard in the words. Were there unknown motives in her suggestion, or was there wisdom in her desire to postpone their leaving Pemberley? In confusion, Elizabeth again paused and sat beside her aunt, hoping for comfort and reassurance.

  “If you are certain it would be better to delay our departure,” said Elizabeth, “then I will abide by your decision.” Slowly, she put her head on Mrs. Gardiner’s shoulder and closed her eyes, intending to rest them for just a moment. In minutes, however, she was asleep, the tension of the day having worn her down.

  Her aunt gently placed the sleeping girl upon the bed and covered her with a blanket before removing herself from the room. She closed the door behind her and went in search of Georgiana. She at last found her in the sitting room, where she was involved in earnest discussion with Jane.

  “Elizabeth is asleep,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “The disagreement with Mr. Darcy has upset her greatly, but I was able to calm h
er, and she has agreed to spend the night at Pemberley and delay our departure for Longbourn by a few days. Did you have better success with Mr. Darcy, or was the attempt frivolous?”

  “My brother is a loving and kind man until he feels he has been mistreated,” said Georgiana. “Our conversation was not as fruitful as I had hoped, for he is as obstinate as he is charitable. I urged him to make amends and repair the damage, but I fear it is too late.”

  When Elizabeth awoke on Christmas morning, she was by herself, Mrs. Gardiner having left her the previous evening. Throwing off her covers, she dressed quickly and approached the door, intent on partaking of a hearty breakfast to lift her. As she opened the bedroom door, however, her thoughts returned to the prior evening and her argument with Mr. Darcy.

  Her review of the words thrown in the heat of the moment brought shame and sorrow. After experiencing the distance provided by a night’s sleep, she now recognized Mr. Darcy’s desperate attempt to maintain treasured memories of his father. Her failure to acknowledge his continued love for the man who had been lost to him was an affliction on her sense of self-worth. She wondered how she could have ever been so callous.

  As she descended the stairs, her attention was captured by the sound of lowered voices coming from the sitting room. Curious, she approached the entrance and gasped as she saw the very log over which she had fought Mr. Darcy burning merrily in the fireplace. Before it stood Mr. Darcy and Georgiana, locked in a discussion too soft for her to understand. With them was Mr. Bingley, who must have arrived while they slept. He turned upon noting Elizabeth’s entrance, and she could sense the slight disappointment in his demeanor as he realized she was not Jane.