Chapter Eight: Secrets Untold

Heap on more wood! – the wind is chill;
But let it whistle as it will,
We'll keep our Christmas merry still.
Each age has deem'd the new-born year
The fittest time for festal cheer:
Even, heathen yet, the savage Dane
At Iol more deep the mead did drain;
High on the beach his galleys drew,
And feasted all his pirate crew

—Sir W. Scott, "Marmion, a Christmas poem"

At last it was the twenty-fifth of December, and the party at Pemberley had assembled at the nearby chapel for Christmas service. Afterwards there was to be a feast at Pemberley, and as Elizabeth sat next to her husband in one of the pews she felt very apprehensive. It was true, all of these people she had been hostess of for some time now; but this was the most important aspect; this was what would give her guests a lasting impression in their minds whether she was worthy or unworthy to be mistress of Pemberley. She found it hard to be attentive to Mr. Mulligan's sermon while through her mind ran thoughts of roasted ham, table arrangements, and silverware. Darcy looked down at her, her expression indiscernible as it was hidden by the brim of her straw bonnet; but he saw how she fidgeted and twiddled her thumbs. Discreetly he grabbed her hand tightly, interlacing their fingers and pulling her towards him. She looked up with a small, reassuring smile, which he returned, though he knew was not betraying her true feelings.

Catherine was sitting with her family, namely her sister Mary. Catherine was not fain to listen to the sermonizing of clergymen, thinking that church was a very good time for some self-reflection (which could be better known as daydreaming). However, she felt somewhat duty-bound to pay attention to-day, considering herself a friend of the parson. Mary, of course, was mentally recording every word, so that she might bring up her favorite aspects of it later to her family; not that her family ever joined in on the discussion—it was more for her own satisfaction of knowing that while she paid attention, others did not.

A little away from Catherine and Mary in the little, quaint country chapel were the Fitzwilliams. Rosaline was attempting to uphold her composure, in spite of the frequent glares she received from that critical eye whose mere presence made her want to shrink away into the stone floor. She could not bring herself to make eye contact with him; the service could not end too soon for her liking.

But it did end; much too soon for Elizabeth and much too late for Rosaline. As the merry crowd poured out of the doors (Catherine finding Edith and having a short, inconsequential conversation with her), the carriages were all waiting along the lane to convey the guests of Pemberley back to that house. Darcy had handed his wife into the carriage, and the crowd had greatly dissipated when he was about to step in; but then he saw his cousin Rosaline leaning against the outside wall of the chapel, and quite alone; so pointing this out to Elizabeth, he then went to her.

"Rosy? Your carriage has left; should you like to ride with me and my wife?"

Rosaline looked up at the unexpected intruder to her thoughts, starting a little; but then said hastily:

"No, no! I stay here on purpose, as I mean to walk. It is not so far."

Darcy did not think this behavior very abnormal, as he was well-acquainted with Rosaline's love for country walks, and was also used to receiving such speeches from his wife, who shared this pursuit.

"True; but may I not come with you?—and perhaps Elizabeth? She is very fond of walking."

Rosaline fidgeted uncomfortably. "You may come, if you insist—but please, don't bring her," she replied, gesturing to the carriage in which Elizabeth sat. Then she realized that may have sounded impertinent, and added: "I mean, because we know each other so much better, and it may be awkward with a third person. And Mrs. Darcy—she will want to arrive early to oversee the meal preparations."

Darcy was convinced by this second point more so than the former, and nodded his head in agreement. He then went back to Elizabeth, telling her to drive on without him, as he was to have a tête-à-tête walk with his cousin. Elizabeth did not mind this, as she reflected that she might have as easily requested something similar of her husband if that was Jane who was standing alone outside the carriage, rather than Rosaline. So she went on, leaving Rosaline and Darcy to walk back to Pemberley at their leisure.

The dramatic Derbyshire landscape looked very fine this Christmas morning, melted frost dripping from the bare tree-branches. The colors were generally subdued, and the skies with a thin cloud cover; but the bright red of holly-berries provided a contrast, as well as Rosaline's Turkey red scarf wrapt tightly about her. Darcy offered his arm to Rosaline, who accepted, and they walked in this way down the lane for some minutes in silence.

"Are you going to Rosings for Easter?" asked Darcy abruptly, though choking on the name of that estate that he would no longer be received at.

"You must think me very disloyal," said Rosaline after a short pause, "if you should think I would humor Aunt Catherine with my company after the way she treated you. I have learnt of your quarrels; for she wrote to me regularly; and I am sorry to say it has been the talk of the Fitzwilliam family for some time now."

"The Fitzwilliams never could keep secrets, could they?" Darcy smiled.

"They can keep secrets from the rest of the world; just not from each other."

"I shall keep that fact in mind, the next time that I have something I wish to conceal—that it will only be a matter of time before the family knows all."

Rosaline looked a little uneasy as he said this; but Darcy, who did not detect it, continued on:

"But I had another motive to asking if you were to go to Rosings at Easter, than to test your loyalty to me. I thought you might like to come to Pemberley at that time."

"Have you discussed this with your wife?" asked Rosaline cautiously.

"Of course."

"Will you not be tired of me? I dare say you will quite dread holidays."

"Tired of you!—Rosy, you forget that you have been gone these ten years past. You must forgive me for a little selfishness on my part, if it seems that I am determined to have you all to myself," said Darcy with a laugh.

"I do not think you could ever achieve that," said Rosaline quietly, so that Darcy only heard every other word; but then, making a conscious effort to seem jollier: "I should, however, very much like to come to Pemberley for Easter. It will give me an excuse to decline Aunt Catherine's invitation, which will undoubtedly come. I assure you, I had quite enough of those Easters when I was a girl, and they were enough to last me a lifetime."

Silence then descended over the pair once more; Darcy occupying himself with studying the landscape, and thinking of his poor Elizabeth unnecessarily vexing herself over Christmas dinner, when he had every faith in her that it would be capital; while Rosaline contemplated the motives behind her affirmative answer to her cousin's request she come for Easter. She could think of a thousand reasons why she ought not to come; but somehow the pros, if few and far between, outweighed them.

----

Rosaline had gone up to her guest chambers to dress for dinner. She studied her image in the looking-glass, as our slight acquaintance Miss Raven tugged and pulled at her flaxen curls so that they fell into an elegant Grecian coiffeur. Miss Raven was happily gossiping to her mistress as she did so, her complexion its usual ruddy color, and her incessant small-talk nothing out of the ordinary. Rosaline listened to none of it; and the first words she spoke sounded grave enough to inform Miss Raven immediately that her thoughts had been far away from the misadventures of one of the chambermaids.

"Augusta," she said.

"Yes, milady?"

"Did you hear anything else—of a different nature?"

Miss Raven looked puzzled, and probably not unjustly so.

"I beg your pardon, milady; but I do not think I understand your meaning."

Rosaline paused. "Never mind—it was nothing of consequence."

Miss Raven then continued dressing her ladyship in silence, as she took Rosaline's words and contorted them in her mind in order to suit her own thoughts and suspicions. And when every ribbon had been tied and every clasp done, Rosaline went off to dinner, and both lady's-maid and lady were left to ponder only upon what they knew themselves.

----

The feast was a grand affair, as everyone had expected of a house such as Pemberley. There were meats of all seasonings and flavors, and courses upon courses, till everyone was unsure if they would be able to eat anymore. The pastries were excellently made by their French cook, looking more like a piece of artwork than a sweet. All the while good-humored chatter and the clamor of forks and knives filled the large dining-room. Elizabeth related anecdotes to Lady Margaret, even if the latter afterwards remained obstinate in her claim that Mrs. Darcy was not as charming as Richard said; and when Elizabeth was not occupying herself with her new cousin, she was speaking with Jane across from her of married life. Catherine was rather quieter than usual, though; for she was self-conscious of having Colonel Fitzwilliam to her left, and Miss Darcy to her right. It was not that she was afraid of her sister-in-law, but that her sister-in-law was afraid of her; and Colonel Fitzwilliam was maintaining a charming discourse with Mr. Gibson; and Catherine was too intimidated by the latter to dare join in on the conversation. Caroline had been unfortunate enough to take longer in her dressing than the others, and therefore had somehow been placed (much to her chagrin) among the Gardiners and their several children. One little girl in particular was guileless, and kept asking Caroline tedious questions about this or that. Mary, too, sat by her Aunt Gardiner and her mother, which was rather a disappointment, as she had no opportunity to speak intelligently and eloquently in order to wow an unsuspecting audience.

"How well my Lizzy looks this evening," chirruped Mrs. Bennet to Mary, gazing down the other end of the table at her daughter, who had her raven hair arranged in a wreath of curls, and wore a satin gown. Mary made no reply, but instead became especially attentive to her food, chopping it into fine little pieces.

"Do not you think your sister has done a splendid job?" continued Mrs. Bennet, still hoping to force a reply from her daughter. There was no real motive for this insistence, other than a desire to brag of her children's accomplishments to anybody who would listen, even if that person was another of her children; but Mary was certain it was because her mother was insinuating, 'these are the standards I have set for you, and now you must live up to them; take notice of your sister's superiority, and use it as a guide to improve yourself, for you are worthless.' She clenched her teeth, and said to pacify her mother:

"Very splendid, Mamma."

"Dear Lizzy! I always knew she would make something of herself. Look at that pretty little arrangement in the center of the table over there. And I was so flattered when she asked my opinion of what colors to do her sitting-room in. I told her, 'cream with blue ornaments', and I dare say she will take my suggestion very seriously—to think my suggestion should be applied in such a house as this! Mr. Bennet (now turning to her husband across from her), don't you think we ought to redo our drawing-room in cream with blue ornaments? It sorely needs remodeling."

Mr. Bennet looked up, as if surprised that he had been applied to, and said: "My dear, I do not know why you ask me such things, for you will do as you please regardless of what I say."

"Nonsense! I take great care for your opinions. What think you of those colors?"

With a sigh, Mr. Bennet said: "I should prefer green, instead of blue."

"Green! Oh dear, that would not do at all; for the dining-room and your book-room is green; it would be too much green. No, I think blue would do much better; I think you will agree once you see what I mean."

"I must trust to your superior feminine sensibilities," replied Mr. Bennet wearily, and then raised an eyebrow at Mary. Mary could only smile in turn, as she was well acquainted with her mother's frequent but unintentional hypocrisy.

On the other side of the table, Catherine had just set down her wine-glass after taking a long draught, listening to but not looking at Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Gibson. She was slightly startled when the former addressed her:

"Did I hear correctly, Miss Catherine that you play and sing?"

"No!" responded Catherine quickly, "That would be my sister Mary. I am afraid that I have few talents, unless you consider being able to talk incomprehensibly a talent."

Her attempt at humor didn't really have any suitable response, so Colonel Fitzwilliam just smiled and said:

"Indeed, it may be; but Mr. Gibson and I were just speaking of pianofortes, as he is looking to purchase one for my sister Margaret; and seemed to think you might be knowledgeable on the subject."

Catherine was flattered by the Colonel's wanting to include her in the conversation, though the recap was superfluous since she had been attentive to it all along; but she felt rather embarrassed of her ignorance.

"I am afraid I know nothing of it; but I refer you to my sister Mary; undoubtedly she is your best resource when it comes to instruments."

Then Catherine turned away and made some idle remark to Miss Darcy about the arrangements, to which she received a simple 'yes'; and with her being unable to relate to the gentlemen and unable to procure anything of substance from Georgiana, she feared she might not have anything to say for the rest of the feast.

----

After dinner had ended and everyone had retired, Elizabeth was lounging on the window-seat in her sitting-room and staring out the window into the night. She felt very tired from the day's festivities, and as she sleepily pawed at the window, she felt that she could fall asleep just as she was.

"You're going to freeze by the window, love," reprimanded Darcy softly, who was sitting by the blazing hearth-fire. Elizabeth knew that he was right, so she muttered something incoherently and then made her way over to the settee.

"I'm so tired," she stated, though that was pretty obvious due to her countenance. She flopped down onto the settee, next to her husband.

"Poor Lizzy; but now you have proven yourself to us all that you are a very capable hostess." He patted her arm affectionately.

"What?" said Elizabeth with a little more animation than formerly, with mock indignation; "I needed to 'prove myself' to you?"

Darcy perhaps took this a little more seriously than it was intended, and replied soothingly; "Not to me; I had the utmost faith in you."

"Oh dear," she said with a change in tone; "to have the utmost faith in me without any cause? I am afraid that was very insensible of you; I wish I had known this before; as I never dreamt of my marrying an insensible man."

Darcy paused. "I am not going to be able to win in this conversation, am I?"

Elizabeth smiled. "No, you're not." She slumped against his arm, and at length, murmured:

"I'm tired."

"You already said that," pointed out Darcy, kissing the top of her head.

"To think you've been outwitted by someone who can't remember what she said two minutes ago: for shame, Fitzwilliam."