“Lizzy loves trout,” Mrs. Bennet declared. “She fished when young, always insisting on dining on her private catch. Do you remember, Edward?”
“Yes, I do. I taught her the rudimentary skills, although I seem to recall her having a penchant for falling into the lake rather than taking fish out of it.”
Lizzy laughed gaily with cheeks flushing prettily, but Darcy was peering at her with a faint scowl. “You never told me you liked trout. Why have you not had the kitchen prepare it for dinner?”
She shrugged, beaming up into her husband’s face. “It is not a favorite dish, William, and I know you dislike it. I guess a treat now and then would be nice, however.”
“Mrs. Langton will prepare more than one entrée if you order it so, dearest.”
“And the aroma of fresh trout will not send you screaming from the table as mutton surely would?” Her eyes twinkled as she teased, Darcy smiling wider and reaching to caress the hand resting on his arm.
“It is a large room. I can always sit at the opposite end.”
Mr. Bennet observed the unconsciously affectionate interplay with an inner fount of peace, never tiring of seeing his children’s happiness. How maudlin I am in my old age, he thought with a silent chuckle.
Mrs. Bennet was more oblivious to the romance. “Well, it is fortunate, Mr. Darcy, that Lizzy does not like mutton either! At least in that you will be spared any distress.”
They had reached the eastern end of the lengthy terrace, pausing to absorb the sparkling landscape of white with glistening fountain and waterfall, the Greek Temple rising in a glory of marbled stone on the hill. The jolly squeals of skaters were audible, floating from the distant, small pond that was hidden from view by snow-topped trees and hedges.
“How about it, Thomas?” Mr. Gardiner turned to his brother-in-law. “In for a spell of fishing? I tell you, the trout practically jump onto the hooks. It is divine.”
Mr. Bennet chuckled. “As long as you promise to maintain some awareness of the time. I have no desire to turn into an icicle.”
“Dr. Darcy? Care to try your luck yet again?”
“Do you suppose there is any way to build a fire near the edge of the pond?” The shivering man, bundled in two wool coats, turned to his nephew with a pleading expression.
Darcy laughed, shaking his head negatively. “Sorry. Mr. Clark would strangle you if you marred his landscaping or damaged the dormant lawns. Afraid you just need to be tough.”
“We can share a flask of brandy while we fish. That should help.”
George shuddered, sighing in resignation. “Thank you, Mr. Bennet, but I think I shall bring my own flask, just to be on the safe side.”
“You men enjoy yourselves. I, for one, am beginning to freeze already. Lizzy, Rose, care for a few hands of cards? You can bring Alexander for us to gush over and take turns holding.”
Lizzy smiled at her aunt, eyes glowing happily. “Sounds wonderful. William, do you yet intend to go for a ride with Colonel Fitzwilliam?”
Darcy nodded. “As soon as he is done cavorting as a juvenile.”
“I seem to remember a certain mature gentleman engaging in a fair amount of juvenile cavorting at the pond last year at this time, or so I was told,” Mrs. Gardiner remarked with a grin to Mr. Darcy, who flushed slightly and coughed.
“Well, yes, but it was all the doings of my devious wife who claimed to be a novice skater in dire need of assistance and rescue.”
“Lizzy a novice?” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. “Why she has been on skates since she was three, although the winters are not as harsh as here and the skating opportunities fewer. Shame, Lizzy, deceiving your husband! What must you think of her, Mr. Darcy?”
“I assure you, madam, I have only the highest regard for your daughter. Her ruse was only in jest and thinly veiled. I knew she could skate all along, plying my own arts of deception. It was a friendly game with a pleasurably outcome.” He smirked at his blushing bride, knowing full well she was recalling their interlude in her bathtub afterwards.
The afternoon waned into evening. The gentlemen, including Mr. Daniels and George, were invigorated by their brisk jaunt on horseback. Varied entertainments prevailed both before the excellent Christmas Eve dinner and after. Georgiana and Mary delighted with duets on the pianoforte, Kitty lifting her voice a time or two, as did Lizzy and Violet Gardiner. The guests differed from the prior year, but the revelry was in the same vein. Alexander joined the group for a time, alternating between wakefulness and slumber, but in good humor throughout and horribly spoilt by all.
Past Christmas reminiscences were shared as they sat in the cozy parlor with fire crackling. The rowdy Bennet celebrations differed hugely from the sedate festivities at Pemberley, but everyone delighted in the story telling. With his customary flair, George related the long ago holiday memories, clear from his dramatizing that the Darcy children of his generation possessed few of the strict manners of later generations.
“It was the only night of the year that we did not argue about retiring in our anxiousness to greet the dawn and open presents. And the only night we did not sneak into Estella’s room after we were supposed to be asleep.” George chuckled. “Our parents were ignorant of how late we often extended our ordered curfew, romping and mischief making until nearly midnight upon occasion.”
“I doubt if they were as ignorant as you surmise,” Darcy interjected with a smile, continuing at his uncle’s questioning look. “Grandfather once said to me, when I was seven or so and upon the occasion of a visit from my cousin Anne with Richard and Jonathan here as well, that now I could, ‘disobey as children ought, by pretending to be abed before traipsing the darkened halls to cavort with your siblings.’”
Richard was laughing. “Oh yes, I remember that! And I also remember how surprised you were, William, and Anne as well. Poor souls with no conspirators about on a regular basis! You two were scandalized at the idea of disobeying a parent.”
“And you managed to break me sufficiently of that ridiculous notion. Bursting into my room with Anne being pulled along by Jonathan. I nearly screamed in fright. Dear Anne looked ready to collapse. This one”—he indicated Richard while glancing about at the grinning faces of his audience—“had gone so far as to steal food from the kitchen!”
“Ah yes. Fun times,” Richard said, his face radiating puckishness.
George, however, was mournful. “I can’t believe they knew! Rather spoils the whole purpose of being naughty and breaking the rules if the authority figure is aware of it. I am crushed.”
“Do not be dismayed, Dr. Darcy,” Mrs. Gardiner offered placatingly. “I imagine there was a wealth of roguish misbehavior they never knew of.” George brightened considerably.
“How does one celebrate Christmas in India, Doctor?” Mary asked.
“It varied depending on where I was at the time. The English compounds held lavish parties, upholding the traditions for the children. But quite often I was traveling about. I never heeded calendar dates, simply going where I was needed or as whimsy inspired me. Obviously, the indigenous peoples of India do not celebrate Christmas.”
“Did you not receive any gifts?” Kitty asked in shock, her young mind stunned at the idea.
George laughed. “I had little need of additional trinkets or possessions, Miss Kitty. I traveled with the barest necessities and my quarters in Bombay were modest. James always sent me something special, although I rarely received it before Christmas. I had a few close friends, both Christian and not, who expressed their affection with a token. In later years I had a dear friend who set the day aside, furnished me with a gift, and insisted I honor the birth of my Savior, even while gently teasing me about it.” His smile was soft, eyes dreamy for several seconds before he shrugged, the lopsided grin again in place as he met Kitty’s eyes. “Of course, shaking the gift was always an imperative! Have you shaken and guessed your gifts yet, Georgie?”