Christmas Merrymaking
Lizzy stared out at the spitting of snow falling from a sky dotted with pale-gray clouds. She frowned and bit her lip while absently fastening the lacings of her thick wool coat. Years living in Derbyshire had given her a sense of typical weather conditions so she was fairly certain the weak clouds would disperse once they squeezed the last drops of moisture into the frigid air, leaving behind a cold but clear day. Traveling to Matlock over the frozen roads should be easy and the sturdy coach packed with seven bodies would remain warm. Yet they had decided it best to leave their youngest child, Thomas, not quite two and recuperating from a minor respiratory affliction, in the care of Mrs. Hanford for the day rather than expose him to the winter chill. It was a wise decision, Lizzy knew, but it was always difficult to leave her children behind.
“We will only be gone for the day,” a deep voice interrupted, the speaker divining her thoughts. She nodded, turning toward her husband where he sat on the nearby bench assisting Audrey with her gloves and fur-lined bonnet. He wasn’t even looking at her or the weather outside, focusing instead on his youngest daughter’s accessories for proper placement to protect against the bitter cold, continuing without a pause, “And I assure you the storm, if it can be called that, will pass within an hour. We will be home before dark and Thomas will not even miss us.”
“Are you sure the snow will not worsen?” Darcy glanced up then, lifting one brow and delivering a you-must-be-joking look. “Well, someday you may be wrong in predicting the weather, Mr. Darcy! What if today is that day and we are stranded at Rivallain?”
“I am not wrong. We will not be stranded at Rivallain. We will be home to celebrate our family Christmas Eve with all the children. And Thomas will remain largely oblivious to the fact that we were away.”
“Will we bring his presents back home, Papa?” Audrey’s question halted Lizzy’s sharp retort, Darcy chuckling as he again focused on his daughter.
“Of course we will, princess. You can help him open them tomorrow. He is too young yet to accomplish the task alone, nor is he old enough to be fully aware of the festivities surrounding him.”
“He loves to look at all the decorations. He laughs and tries to touch everything. Yesterday he escaped Nanny Lisa and climbed onto the table while we were mixing the dough and fell face first into the bowl! He was covered with flour and molasses. Oh, you should have seen him, Papa. It was very funny.”
“I heard about it. Another reason to keep him here rather than running amok at Rivallain. Here he will be safe, warm, and happily playing with his toys between naps and meals.”
She nodded her agreement, but then stayed his hand with a gentle clasp of her delicate, gloved fingers. “But you are wrong, Papa. He will miss us.”
Darcy flashed a warning glance to Lizzy while answering. “Perhaps a little, but it is the wisest decision.” Lizzy snapped her lips shut, knowing he was correct but remaining disturbed at the idea. “His grandpapa and Uncle George will dote upon him while we are away. And then we shall make it up to him with an abundance of kisses and hugs when we return. How is that?”
“Ow! It is too tight! You pinched me on purpose!”
“I did not. And you wouldn’t have been pinched if you would just hold still!”
Darcy engaged his wife’s eyes for a brief reaffirming exchange, Lizzy smiling and nodding before rolling her eyes and indicating he deal with the squabbling duo. With a smile of relief that his wife was appeased followed by an exasperated sigh at the bickering Noella and Michael, he rose from the bench. “Enough, you two. Michael, help Nathaniel with his coat. Here, Noella, let me button that.”
“He did do it on purpose, Papa. Is my neck red?”
“Not in the least. Flawlessly beautiful, as always.”
“Good,” she said, lifting her chin so Darcy could finish clasping her bonnet, “I must look my absolute best.”
“And why is that?”
“Hugh will be there.”
“Ah, yes. Young Mr. Pomeroy. Still sporting a crush on your cousin, are you?”
“Papa,” she sighed, piercing him with her patented longsuffering look, “Hugh is not my cousin, not really. And I do not have a crush,” her tone clearly conveying her derision for that definition.
“Of course not,” he smiled, brushing her cheek with a soft kiss. “How foolish of me.”
“I intend to marry him.”
Her announcement was firm and completely matter-of-fact, Darcy stammering slightly in a combination of amusement and surprise. “Do you now?” He finally managed, noting Lizzy’s attempt to refrain from bursting into laughter. “And is Mr. Pomeroy aware of this arrangement? After all, he may not be so pleased at betrothal to an eleven-year-old.”
“I will be twelve tomorrow,” she informed him flatly, as if that made all the difference in the world, “and will tell him eventually.”
“Perhaps I should break the good news to him,” Alexander interjected dryly. “He may need the next eight years to prepare for the concept. Bolster his fortitude, practice the proposal speech, save up for the ring, and so on.”
But instead of erupting into a tirade, as they all expected—Michael dying to chime in on his opinion of poor Hugh’s bleak future—Noella merely shrugged and calmly pulled on her gloves.
“Well, since I do not foresee any of my children becoming engaged in the next day or so, I say we put the topic aside and get into the carriage so we can arrive at Rivallain for breakfast as planned. Mrs. Darcy?”
Darcy’s prediction proved correct. The feeble snowfall ceased before they reached Beeley, and clear, crisp skies remained throughout the day. Their celebration with the Fitzwilliam clan and local friends at Lord and Lady Matlock’s grand estate was lively, entertaining, and wholly wonderful. The wrapped gifts, hampers of Mrs. Langton’s favored holiday fare, and baskets of Christmas cookies and pies baked by the Darcy women were exchanged for fresh piles of gifts, restocked hampers of feast remnants, and different cookies and pies.
To the fascination of the adults, Noella utterly ignored Hugh all day!
“Strange way to capture your chosen man, don’t you think?” Darcy asked the group in general.
“She is a female and who can understand the subtle intrigues of a woman?” Richard responded, winking at his wife and Elizabeth, who laughed.
“Noella’s declaration apparently isn’t trammeling Mr. Pomeroy’s roving eye,” Lady Matlock pointed out with a chuckle, indicating the object of Noella’s infatuation. The handsome nineteen-year-old Hugh was one of several unattached gentlemen brazenly flirting with a cluster of young ladies sitting near a far window. Alexander had shared his sister’s intentions with his friend, Hugh laughing so hard that tears sprang to his eyes. Whether it was his flippancy at the idea or some female machination on her part was unclear, but Noella pointedly pretended he was invisible, even to the degree that she endured Michael’s taunts in stoic silence. It made for a humorous afternoon amid the typical holiday festivities.
Just as the sun touched the horizon, the seven Darcys said their adieus and crammed into the spacious coach that was rapidly becoming too cramped even with the smaller children sitting on laps. They embarked on the hour-long ride back to Pemberley with hearts and stomachs filled to bursting. It was Alexander’s idea to play a memories-and-forfeit game reciting “The Twelve Days of Christmas” and using evenly distributed candy canes as the “payment” for blundering in remembering the proper sequence. The first round made it as far as “seven swans a-swimming” when Michael, who possessed a memory as reliable as a rusted bucket holding water (according to Nathaniel), stumbled over what came after “four colly birds.”