A/N Here is some festive fun to enjoy in this baking heat.
I listened to Tchaikovsky's Christmas Waltz from his collection The Seasons on loop while writing this because it somehow manged to capture the emotion I needed to tap into. Have a listen before you read this to put you in the mood, if you like. Or just because it's a gorgeous piece of music.
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Tuesday 9th December 1794
The Christmas season had begun, and with it came the impending loneliness Elizabeth was starting to associate with the festive time of year. Her second Christmas as a married woman was also her second Christmas without her husband. The year previous, it had been the saving grace of Jane and Lord Ponsonby which kept her sane. This year she had her dear friend Georgiana.
The young Miss Darcy had a few weeks away from school, during which she was to enjoy the usual trappings and trimmings of the holiday. Her elder brother was still in Derbyshire, overseeing the final repairs to Pemberley, and the roads between London and the north were treacherous after weeks of rain followed by a sudden cold spell. It was deemed appropriate by her family – which Elizabeth understood to mean the Earl suggested it and the Countess did not object too strongly – for Georgianna to pass the festive season with the wife of the young lady's guardian.
Elizabeth was discovering, with the help of her young friend, that the Christmas season in London was quite different to that in the country. During her childhood, she and her sisters had venture out into the cold, baskets in hand, to collect their own mistletoe and holly with which to decorate the house. They would return home with red noses and fingers stiff from the chill, their arms full of clumsily harvested greenery. They would shed their cloaks at the door and rush to Jane's bed where they would huddle together under the covers, cups of Cook's spiced posset cradled in their hands. The fire would crackle and roar, casting exotic shadows on the walls until the youngest sisters demanded Jane draw the bedcurtains to keep the monsters out.
When the girls were very young, the fruits of their trips were used only upstairs where the torn leaves and ragged cuts were not noticeable to the festive visitors. As they grew, their gatherings joined those of the servants' downstairs, adorning every mantelpiece and bannister.
Elizabeth's home in Portman Square was far from any woodland. Instead of bundling herself in a thick mantle and fur-lined muff to hunt for holly trees amongst the thickets, a maid was sent to the vendor a few streets over to purchase the festive greenery.
To make up for this, Georgiana and Elizabeth decided to decorate the house entirely by themselves.
With already green-stained aprons tied about their waists, they balanced precariously on stools and collapsed in laughter every time one took a stumble. Their eye for arrangement was slightly lacking and their precision was imperfect, though this might have been due to the wine which had been freely flowing since before lunch – in the spirit of festive extravagance, of course. The canary, Citrine, watched their antics from the perch he had created for himself on a high-backed chair, Elizabeth having let him out after the third glass of wine. Citrine would join in with cheerful chirps when the ladies broke into song, which was frequently.
Elizabeth was wobbling on one foot, reaching high as she draped a rope of plaited ribbons over a painting frame, when from the doorway a footman's voice announced,
"The Viscount Ducannon."
"John!" Elizabeth shrieked as she lost her balance and fell over in a heap. Leaping to her feet, Mrs Fitzwilliam dashed across the room to fling her arms around her dear friend. Lord Ponsonby swung her about exuberantly, narrowly missing collision with the room's other occupant.
"Oh! Georgiana, this is Richard's cousin Lord John Ponsonby, the Viscount Ducannon. Cousin, may I introduce Richard's ward, Miss Georgiana Darcy."
The new acquaintances exchanged the usual courtesies while Elizabeth rang for tea and fluttered about like an over-excited butterfly.
"You did not tell me you would be in town, you wicked man," Elizabeth griped good-naturedly as they all took a seat.
"It was a hasty decision for no other reason than I was lonely and bored. I am staying with my father – or, I should say, I will stay with him as long as I can tolerate his grumbling about my mother." Ducannon shared a commiserating look with Elizabeth.
Georgiana was nervously thumbing a kerchief in her lap and throwing anxious glances at the visitor. Though she had blossomed in Elizabeth's company, she was still exceedingly shy in nature and the unexpected intrusion had robbed her of all apparent powers of speech.
Taking pity on her young friend, Elizabeth asked the younger girl to fetch a book form her room which she desired to show to the Viscount. Left alone with her dear friend, Elizabeth took the opportunity to share some news. Her hands drifting to her stomach, she said,
"I believe I am going to have a child."
"My goodness, Elizabeth, how wonderful!" Ducannon cried, "Marvellous!" He took her hand and shook it energetically. "A little Fitzwilliam, how absolutely marvellous."
The Viscount's enthusiasm filled the room and his grin was contagious; Elizabeth's cheeks were already sore from the force of her smile.
"I spoke to my Aunt, and she believes we shall have the little one with us in the spring."
"Marvellous, absolutely marvellous. And does Richard know yet?"
Elizabeth sobered somewhat as she explained,
"I wrote him a letter a few weeks ago but I have had no reply. He warned me that there would be much less contact on this trip than the last, but I do wish to know that he received my letter."
"I'm sure he did, Elizabeth," Ducannon murmured comfortingly, "I am sure he is over the moon."
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Thursday 11th December 1794
There was a new arrival in the house and Elizabeth was still unaccustomed to it. It stood, sleek and polished, in the room referred to by the household as the parlour, but which served the purpose of drawing room, library and, now, music room.
Even sat on the bench in front of the piano, Elizabeth could not reconcile her small home with the sheer luxury of such an instrument.
"Reviens parmi nous maintenant, Lizzy, tu dois te concentrer!" Georgiana chastised as she marked a sheet of music with her pencil.
"Oh no, Georgiana, we shall practice our French, or we shall practice our playing – we shall not do both!" Elizabeth replied. "You already torture me with your tricky fingering, but you shall not do so en francais."
"If you payed attention instead of drifting off with the faeries, your fingers would play the noted they are supposed to."
"I am just baffled, I suppose, and my mind shall not let me focus on this pianoforte until I can understand why your brother sent it here."
"Because he loves his younger sister very much and because he feels guilty about not being able spend Christmas with me," Georgiana grinned. "Besides, this came from the town house – he is replacing it with a newer instrument."
The friends were side by side on the pianoforte stool, providing Georgiana with easy opportunity to playfully shove Elizabeth with her shoulders.
"I wished to play, and there is very little my dear brother will not do for me. It would do you well to find such a relative for yourself."
"You are quite the cheeky minx these days, Miss Darcy, I am sure your brother should hardly know you! He shall certainly think a bad influence if you speak to him as you do to me."
"Oh don't be so severe, dear Lizzy, you have simply taught me how to not be a shy little mouse all the time."
"You are most certainly not a shy little mouse anymore, not in my presence alone, anyhow. You are much too bold- you are a robin! Too curious for your own good and quite belligerent to all the other birds." Elizabeth nodded her head firmly, hiding her smile behind a stern brow, "you are most certainly a little robin now. It is such a shame that your brother sent me a quiet little mouse and I have to send him back such a teasing robin. He shall be most disappointed."
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Monday 29th January
Dear Mrs Fitzwilliam,
I wish to thank you for your kindness in providing a wonderful home for my sister. Her letters have been filled with rapturous joy about your companionship, and I could not be more pleased that you have allowed and encourage her shy spirit to blossom. She has informed me that have also been invaluable with her practice of the French language.
Your husband once mentioned to me in a letter that you love the pianoforte but have not had the means to play one since you located to Town. It is my dearest wish that you keep the pianoforte I sent you, as a gift of gratitude.
All the best,
F. Darcy
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Wednesday 7th January 1795
There was little doubt in Elizabeth's mind now that she was indeed having a child. There was a firm swell to her stomach which could not be dismissed as a consequence of festive overindulgence, and she had cried for much longer than was warranted when Georgiana's visit ended. Her Aunt had been an invaluable help to her in preparing herself for the new arrival – Elizabeth was canny enough to put any of Mrs Bennet's unsolicited advice out of her mind as soon at it went in.
Mrs Bennet had been rapturous when Elizabeth had sent her word of the babe the previous week. Since then, letters had arrived each morning with instructions to remain all day in bed and to take a brisk walk twice a day, to drink a glass of claret before bed and to drink only tea, to consult a physician and to only trust a midwife.
Of a considerably more sedate personality than his wife, Mr Bennet had been more staid in his reaction, though he was no less overjoyed. His single letter since receiving the news of his first grandchild had been emotional, though he was sure to insist – in jest, Elizabeth assumed – that the baby be called Bennet if it was a boy, and also Bennet if it was a girl.
Elizabeth had not planned to inform her husband's parents until she was closer to the birth, aware of the tragedies which could strike between the present and the expected appearance of the young Fitzwilliam. Nonetheless, the Countess had realised quite as soon as she entered 4 Grosvenor Square for tea the previous day. After being subjected to a bout of violent embraces by the uncharacteristically affectionate Countess, Elizabeth was escorted to the Earl's study in an almost ominous fashion.
Despite her dread at the summons, the Earl was his usual amiable self as he took a seat beside her and explained that he had purchased a small estate in Yorkshire by the name of Somerford Park. The Earl was the Colonel's appointed agent in his absence and had purchased the estate in his name – it was to be a gift to his youngest son, the Earl explained, upon his return from his deployment on the Continent. [1] He had planned to wait for the end of Colonel Fitzwilliam's tour of duty before announcing the purchase, however the prospect of a child had prompted him to alert Elizabeth earlier. The Earl wished for his grandson – for the man was certain the child should be a boy – to be raised a gentleman in the country.
Upon returning to her apartments in Portman Square, the intent at the forefront of her mind was to pen a missive to her husband immediately. She knew it would ease his conscience to have them move to a country estate. Though she had always reassured him that their love was enough – she did not need a manor house or vast lands to be happy – there were moments when Colonel Fitzwilliam had felt guilty from taking her from the situation of a gentleman's daughter to that of a soldier's wife. Elizabeth, of course, had no such feelings. Despite the hardships of being a military spouse, Elizabeth was satisfied with her life and, more importantly, beyond thrilled to be Mrs Richard Fitzwilliam.
On her way to her desk to write her letter, she stopped, as she usually did, to greet Citrine the canary. To her dismay, he was not standing on the perch he typically used. Instead he was lying on the bottom of the cage, unmoving. He did not stir as she opened the cage. When she scooped him into her hands and cradled his little body, Citrine still felt warm, but Elizabeth knew.
He was dead.
END OF VOLUME I
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[1] I have absolutely no idea about the legality of such a transaction. I am taking this moment to declare artistic licence.