Author's Note: Just a little Christmas fluff. Enjoy!
It is an eternal truth among husbands, that any gift bought at the last-minute, are either to be spectacularly horrific or terribly wonderful. In this instance, what a certain man was hoping for was the latter, as he searched what stores remained open this late on the eve of Christmas. He had been dreadfully forgetful, being occupied with his daily work (which, indeed, was occupying) and somehow, the special occasion had vacated his mind. Consequently, he was left to wander the streets, late and worried as to what to present to his new wife.
Wife. He savored the word, as he savored her presence, as he savored her touch, as he savored her kiss. She deserved no less than she gave him: a world of delight. Unfortunately, despite his owning half the county, he could not give her the actual world. That thought, however, led him to a curious idea. An especially curious idea, as his gaze fell onto a corner shop that read, Glassmaker.
He strode silently in, an almost imperceptible smile adorning his face.
--
It is an eternal truth among wives that husbands are often late, despite most owning pocketwatches. This morning was no different, to the woman's chagrin; had the man forgotten what the day was? He had not returned from his business-place last night, as was evident by the untouched side on their bed. Nor had he returned in the early morning (which sometimes happened), as was evident by the lack of coat hanging up or his hat on the shelf. She was still alone.
She would fret, but remembering her mother's legacy, she did not, disliking the resemblance in herself. She turned, instead, to the gardens. The gardens had been her refuge before, in the time of their strange courtship, and it would be her refuge again. She gathered a warm covering, and began to walk out-of-doors.
It was cold, but not especially; the sun, feeling blessed herself on this day, felt prompted to share her light. The young woman was grateful, for it allowed her more time to wander. The gardens were large, and parts of it remained unknown, so the woman explored to distract herself from her disappointment.
--
She did not know she was being watched, and let herself become free with her ramblings. She let her bonnet hang, she accidentally tore a piece of her dress, but tossed it away, laughing, and her hair blew in the wind.
She was the most beautiful creature he had ever beheld.
He waited for her to venture to this quiet, almost dark area. None too many ventured here, for it was his own sanctuary. Even his precious sister knew not to disturb him if he sought this place. It was a private garden, walled with gentle stone and floral vines. In one corner was a tree his mother used to sit upon, and tell him stories; he now came here for solitude, for his heart's renewal.
And how she led to his heart's renewal…
She came around the corner, then, suddenly hushed by the reverent atmosphere. He suppressed a smile at her change; she was a very spirited person, but she could contain herself. And contain herself she did; unlike other moments, when her hands trailed the fauna, she kept them to herself, still, in respect. As she paused to examine the tree, he moved from the shadows to stand behind her.
"I see you have found my garden," he said.
She started, nearly falling onto the very branch his mother sat on, so long ago. "Forgive me- I was only waiting for your arrival- I did not know-"
He said nothing, merely watched her. She stood, discomfited, as he turned away from her. She had done it again, as seemed it happened so often, with their growing used to one another. He was such a private person, that she did not know when or where she could intrude-
Her thoughts were interrupted by his voice. "I would give it to you, along with this world." He was suddenly close to her, blocking her view, as he let something cool fall from his hands to her own.
She gasped as she saw. In her hands was a glass globe, and oh! what was inside! She beheld their shared home and its grounds, her father's gardens (where she had loved to walk, and where she spent many childhood hours with her father) and her sister's house. In each were tiny figures; her sister stood with her husband at the front of their house, gazing upward; her father sat in the gardens examining an even smaller insect, and herself, with her husband, standing…
…precisely where they were now.
"Happy Christmas, Mrs Darcy."
There were no words spoken after that.