A Bit of Advice

By DJ Clawson

Story Summary: Three days before his wedding, Bingley goes to the only man who can give him the advice he needs ... the poor, unfortunate Mr. Darcy.

Chapter 14 – Christmas at Pemberley

As Christmas arrived, so did the Darcy's guests. Georgiana returned from town first, followed quickly by the three Bennets from Brighton. "Oh! Oh my dear Mr. Bennet!" his wife said, and Mr. Darcy instantly insisted that the very qualified Mrs. Reynolds give his mother-in-law a grand tour of all of the hundred and nine rooms of Pemberley, and insisted that Mrs. Bennet be given ample time in each room to say whatever she pleased and inquire after the expense of every single piece of furniture to her heart's content. Fortunately, he had already given Mrs. Reynolds a sizable Christmas bonus, so all was well and Mrs. Bennet was gone into the deep lairs of Pemberley for almost an entire day.

Colonel Fitzwilliam turned from his business in the north, and was happily greeted by both his cousins and Elizabeth. The Gardiners were delayed in Lambton only by the weather for a day before making their appearance. It was in fact the Bingleys who appeared last, having the least amount to travel and so weather and delays were no concern, but as usual, Mr. Bingley was all concerns for his wife's health to such an extent in his various posts that it came as a surprise to everyone when she appeared at the door looking quite well and full of color. With him came his sisters and brother, happy as always to be at Pemberley no matter who was on the guest list – that or if they had any objection, they hid it well.

Diversions were many in the vast halls of Pemberley, and it was actually quite a while after the first dinner that Colonel Fitzwilliam finally caught Bingley and Darcy in the billiards room, temporarily escaping their guests. They were happy to let him join their game. "So," he said casually, "I have heard some speculation concerning the delicate matter – if I may be so bold – of the location on confinement."

"The manner remains ... unsettled," Bingley said.

"Don't be ridiculous, Bingley," Darcy said. "Fitzwilliam, we've already decided to settle the matter in the most gentlemanly way possible."

"So, you mean, some sort of contest," he surmised.

"Precisely," said Darcy. "By a dueling. Rapiers it shall be?"

Bingley gave his friend and brother a horrified look. "I agreed to know such thing! You know I would lose horribly. You are not making the slightest attempt to be fair." Straightening his waistcoat, he added, "It shall be shooting."

Colonel Fitzwilliam raised his eyebrows. "Red eight in the side pocket. You know, Darcy is very good at shooting. It would be a close match."

"I have been practicing," Darcy said confidently.

"Very well then! Dancing!"

"Surely not!" Darcy replied. "Chess."

"Sewing."

"Riding."

"First proposal."

"First attempted proposal."

"Drinking contest," Bingley said keenly.

Darcy raised an eyebrow. "Height."

"I do believe Jane is taller than Elizabeth."

"Only if she stands on her toes!"

"Good G-d," Fitzwilliam said. "You're like children! Why don't you just flip a coin like decent men? Or better yet, let your wives decide?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Darcy replied. "We will decide as men, and then return to our wives, who will promptly ignore us and announce their own decision, which was probably made months ago – but still, propriety must be maintained."

"You mean your egos must be maintained," his cousin replied. "Despite your obvious respective marital bliss's, I fear I must endeavor to find a more complying wife."

"My sister is out of the question, then," Bingley said, to everyone's surprise. "What? I was merely stating of the obvious."

"It seems marriage has given you a spine," Darcy said.

"And destroyed yours."

Fitzwilliam sighed and put his pool cue down. "Darcy, I spent most of my childhood keeping you and Wickham from each other's throats. However good natured your relationship with Bingley may be, I will not spend my adulthood doing the same thing with another person."

"Fine, fine, a coin it shall be. Does anyone have a sovereign?"

Fitzwilliam produced a coin, and Bingley took it from him. "Heads, Pemberley. Tails, Kirkland."

"Agreed."

He flipped it, and covered it with his hand. Before the outcome could be revealed, however, there was a rough banging at the door. "Darcy!" It was undoubtedly Mrs. Darcy.

"What have you done now?"

Darcy shushed him with a look and opened the door. "Darling – "

Elizabeth crossed him and entered the gentlemen's sanctuary, her hands on her hips, and stood before Darcy and Bingley. "Did you or did you not make a bet on who would deliver first?"

"No."

"No," Bingley backed him up.

"Of course not."

"Never."

Elizabeth gave her husband a look of smoldering rage.

"A small bet."

"Very small," said Bingley.

"A few pence."

"Very few."

"Nothing significant."

"Ten pence."

"Maybe a pound. At most. Absolute most."

Elizabeth focused her intense eyes on Bingley.

Finally he croaked out, "Maybe four – f-five pounds?"

She turned back to Darcy.

"It really was five pounds," he said in a voice that could not be denied as truthful. "That is all."

"Four."

"Stop lying to her, Bingley. It's not worth it." He approached his wife, and cupped her cheek. "Dearest –"

"There will be no such bet," she said, but her voice was softening.

"Of course not," he said, and kissed her on the forehead in an unusual display of affection for Darcy in front of other gentlemen, even his relatives.

"All right. I will leave you to your game," she said, apparently much relieved. "Oh, and the confinements will take place at Pemberley. Sorry, Mr. Bingley."

"Quite all right," he assured her, waving as she closed the door behind her.

As soon as she was gone, Darcy said, "I do adore the Gardiners, but it is perfectly clear that I cannot trust them with a secret."

"Indeed," said Bingley.

Jane had long retired when Bingley made his way into her bedroom. In theory he had his own adjoining one, but it was not in his habit to use it when unnecessary. In fact, she was soundly asleep. Jane liked to sleep on her side, but in recent months that had become increasingly difficult and against conventional wisdom. He took great care at sliding into bed next to her, keeping a respectful distance so not to wake her. Falling asleep after a long night and a few glasses of port was not exceptionally difficult.

He did wake several hours later, as would happen occasionally in the night, especially after some alcohol. He woke to find Jane partially on her side, leaning her head on his shoulder. Her movement indicated that she was not entirely asleep, and he kissed her gently to see if this would elicit some response. She did smile, but squirmed uncomfortably.

"Is everything all right?"

"'Tis nothing." When she realized that wouldn't satisfy him, she added, "My feet are a bit soar."

Without hesitation or request, he wandered down to the bottom of the bed and began to rub them. Her ankles were swollen, which he supposed was not to be unexpected.

"Mmm... how do you always know exactly what to do, husband?"

"I am quite a good guesser."

Jane gave a contented sigh. "You're not upset that we chose Pemberley, are you?"

"It is the most logical choice," he said. "And with our absence, they can do the renovations."

"Kirkland is suitable as it stands. We have had this conversation."

"It could be better. It should be perfect."

She didn't seem in the mood to argue with him, but then again, she never did.

When Darcy, with all of his hosting duties, finally slid into bed, he was a bit drunker than he wanted to be, but certainly not tumbling over. He crawled in next to Elizabeth and kissed her softly on the cheek before turning on his own pillow. So far, minus abstentions for periods of indisposition and his being out of Derbyshire on business, they had missed a night of marital pleasure, but if they had to make up for it in the morning, so be it. She was asleep and probably exhausted, and he was very eager to be the same (the former at least). He was nearly there when he felt the tremors of Elizabeth wiggling her toes and turning over to face him – a considerable feat on her part at this point in her condition.

"Yes, darling?" he mumbled.

"Five pounds."

He put the pillow over his head.

"Is that really all I'm worth to you? Five pounds?"

Darcy blinked and removed the pillow. "I am confused. Are you unhappy with the betting itself or do you want me to bet more? Because they are contradictory notions."

"I was just wondering how you came to the decision of five pounds. How the number value was reached."

"We felt compelled not to exceed it," he said, "lest our wives discover us." He looked over his shoulder, and Elizabeth's look in the candlelight was not total disapproval. In fact, she looked rather amused. "What?"

"I find it rather silly," she said. "Men and your need for cockfights."

It took Darcy a considerable moment to decide whether he wanted to interpret her usage of the noun with its obvious intention or with the proper definition. "Now I think you're just insulting me."

"Well, someone has to knock you off your high horse."

"No more animal allusions! Please!" He buried himself in his pillow, but Elizabeth was giggling. "One man can only take so much."

"And my father has taken a great deal more than you. You should consider yourself lucky."

"I will not for long if you continue to torment me as such!"

"Really? Have I been so terrible a wife to you?" She ran her finger along his backside. "I must say these past months must have been positively dreadful for you."

He turned over to face her. "Absolutely dreadful." And he kissed her. Perhaps the conventional midwife would have some objection to their continued dalliances, but if they were to have this conversation with her, they had not one but two sources to back up their assertions that everything would be quite all right.

The celebrations on Christmas Eve could not have been more perfectly planned according to Pemberley's guests, and many congratulations when to Elizabeth, who took them with gratitude but felt that they were undeserved. There were many toasts to everyone's health and happiness (and a certain two people's health's and happiness – especially). There was a good amount of red juice involved, with two expectant mothers and several other temperance-inclined guests. Mary Bennet thought it made one loose of tongue (and no one was willing to contradict her), and Mr. Darcy, as was his custom, stopped at the first glass. The Gardiner children ran to and fro along the long table, and no one felt compelled to stop them for the sake of decorum, as it was Christmas Eve and everyone seemed to be in a particularly delightful mood.

There was much after dinner entertainment in the parlor, and fortunately Mary's piano abilities had much improved in a calmer Longbourn setting, and she was happy to do a duet with Georgiana. Mr. Darcy was briefly seen by those who were inclined to be eavesdroppers arguing with his wife in the hallway not about whether she was to play, but whether she should retire immediately out of concern for her health.

"Is this to be my last social engagement? Then surely you will allow me Christmas." And she said allow me with every indication that she was not inclined to let him have his proper husbandly say in the matter, however inclined he was to give it.

"Elizabeth –,"

"I am perfectly well, Mr. Darcy."

He scowled but say nothing when she rejoined her guests.

Someone else was scowling, on the other side of the door. "She should not aggravate her husband so!" Mrs. Bennet said.

"I don't know how you have not observed this," Mr. Bennet said in a hushed voice, "but I do believe it is the entire foundation for their very stable and loving marriage, so I am not inclined to give any advice that might dissuade it."

"Oh, Mr. Bennet!" and she swatted him, but very playfully, and he smiled and took her by the arm.

Though celebrations continued into the night, Mrs. Darcy and Mrs. Bingley did respectfully retire, not so much at their husband's inclinations as their own. Mrs. Gardiner put her overexcited children to bed, and eventually the company whittled down to the Bingley sisters playing cards and the various gentlemen of strong countenances. Darcy, as host, was obligated to remain with his guests, though he did make not less than two trips upstairs to check on his wife. Eventually the gentlemen retired to the smoking room, where Mr. Hurst partook in a large cigar and not his first brandy of the night.

"And how is Mrs. Darcy?" Mr. Bennet asked, because he was not afraid of the intimidating figure of a very private Mr. Darcy, now considerably less at-ease without his wife by his side.

"Resting," he said, hoping that would suit his father-in-law.

"Delightful evening," Mr. Hurst said from his position slumped in on the lounge chair. For him, a rare compliment.

"Indeed," said Bingley, raising his glass and looking at the grandfather clock. "I believe it is the hour at least. Happy Christmas!"

"Happy Christmas," they said, raising their glasses, except for Darcy, who looked out the window, and was very content to do so until approached by Mr. Gardiner.

"No white Christmas for us this year, no? I suppose it does not matter."

"It rarely snows this early in the season," Darcy said, a long sentence for him, even in good company.

"Well, it has certainly been a delightful evening, I must say. Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Darcy. Especially considering – "

"Yes," he interrupted. He liked his new uncle well enough, but that did not mean he wanted the matter to go any further. Something of a suspicious tremor was crawling up his back, making him less social able than he wanted to be with his relatives, some of whom he was actually quite fond of. Maybe this would be a good time to check on Lizzy again.

"If I may be so bold, Mr. Darcy," Mr. Gardiner continued, in that very pleasing way of his, which was no great comfort to Darcy, "as this may be one of the last times we could corner you –

And Darcy suddenly realized in that room, he was cornered.

"I know you are inclined to be to the point about things, so I will indulge you and do the same. You are about to enter, G-d willing, into fatherhood, something which requires much care."

Oh G-d. Where was his ability to curse this man with the legendary Darcy stare of indifference? Why was it failing him now. "And?"

"Having some experience on the matter, if I could, perhaps, offer some advice –"

Darcy looked at Mr. Bennet, who actually stood up and seemed to be joining Mr. Gardiner in this well-meaning but horrible endeavor. Mr. Hurst, as usual, was half-passed out on the couch and would be of no use. Now desperate, Darcy turned to Bingley, who was holding up two glass bottles. "Whiskey or brandy?"

Without hesitation, Darcy answered, "Both."

...Up next: Epilogue, and some author's notes about more fiction