“It certainly shows more affection than he has exhibited for her thus far.” Elizabeth stole a sly glance at them, then wrinkled her nose in ambivalence. “If either of them is pleased by it, they are disguising it well.”
Charlotte laughed lightly. “I am suresheis delighted. But their happiness notwithstanding, my mother is exceedingly grateful for the reprieve. Mrs Bennet has demonstrated true Christmas spirit with this generosity.”
“She might have been a good deal less generous had she heard what Miss de Bourgh said about her yesterday.”
“I am sure. It was excessively unkind of her to say all those things.”
There was something in Charlotte’s intonation that made her meaning ambiguous, and her sudden interest in the rector’s oration was telling. Elizabeth decided against questioning it, for it was Christmas, and she had no wish to quarrel with her friend. Yet, Charlotte said no more, either, and her willingness to abandon the subject grew more vexing the longer her silence persisted. By the time the last hymn of the service was sung, Elizabeth could resist commenting no longer.
“You think she was right.”
Her answer came in the colour that tinged her friend’s cheeks. She turned irritably to glare at the pulpit.
“Not for the most part,” Charlotte said gently. “And no matter what her motivation, saying any of ittoyou was unpardonably ill-mannered. But you and I have ever valued each other’s honesty, and just as I did not blame you for questioning my decision to marry Mr Collins, I hope you will not blame me for saying that there wassometruth in what Miss de Bourgh said.”
Elizabeth’s ears rang with indignation. “The part where she said Jane was unworthy of being Mr Bingley’s wife or the part where she accused my mother of being a cause of repugnance?”
“Oh Eliza!” Charlotte reached for her hand and, because itwasChristmas, Elizabeth did not pull it away. “When you reflect on this later, I hope you will be sensible enough to acquit me of thinking anything of the sort. Iknowyou are sensible enough to recognise which of her accusations had merit and which are to be ignored entirely.”
Confined as she was to a pew, Elizabeth was unable to act on her most immediate wish to walk anywhere fast until her anger was burnt off. She took a deep breath and forced herself to give Charlotte’s hand a quick answering squeeze before letting it go.
It was a relief when the service was done, and she was able to stand along with the rest of the congregation to file out of the church. It was less of a relief to see Mr Darcy and Miss de Bourgh just outside the door, speaking to her mother and Jane.DearJane, who was yet unaware that the wretch at whom she was smiling so sweetly had been the means of separating her from the man she loved.
Elizabeth checked herself. She had gone over this a thousand times in her mind since the previous day, and in no iteration of events had she been able to come to any conclusion other than Mr Darcy truly had not known Jane was in love. The indifference with which he had spoken of Mr Bingley without embarrassment or concern upon his first return to Longbourn, his confusion when she questioned his motives for dividing them, and that he had asked her father about Jane’s regard, all spoke of his miscalculation there. None of it justified his officious interference or his disdain for the match. But it was enough to exonerate him of the cruelty of detaching Mr Bingley from her sister withoutanyregard to the sentiments of either. It was not enough to make Elizabeth anticipate an entire day in his company.
At that moment, Jane and her mother walked away, and Mr Darcy turned in her direction, but he frowned immediately upon setting eyes on her. What displeased him was of no interest to her. Elizabeth suppressed a sigh, gave him a perfunctory curtsey, and hastened away to wish Mrs Goulding a happy Christmas.
* * *
“Do you always indulge so early?” said Miss de Bourgh with the utmost disdain as she accepted the glass Kitty thrust at her.
“Only at Christmas,” answered Mrs Bennet, accepting hers from Lydia and settling into her usual chair in Longbourn’s parlour.
“It helps get through the rest of the day,” Mr Bennet added. One of the Gardiners’ children squealed and slammed a door at the back of the room, and Mary played the opening chords of a regrettably cheerless tune at a volume that threatened to make further conversation impossible. Mr Bennet raised his voice to add, “I heartily recommend you drink it, madam.”
“I certainly shall not,” Miss de Bourgh replied. “It is most unseemly at this hour, no matter the occasion.”
Mrs Bennet bristled, but her husband only shrugged. “Do not say I did not warn you.”
Miss de Bourgh set her glass aside, then took Mrs Jenkinson’s glass from her, setting that aside also. Elizabeth was diverted to see that Mr Darcy took such a swig as almost drained his dry. He was very quiet, which was hardly out of character, but she did not doubt he was uncomfortable.
Even in the grand halls of Netherfield he had been reserved, fastidiously proper. It would be almost impossible for him to retain the same air of dignity in such a chaotic family setting as Longbourn on Christmas Day. Then, though she had looked upon his coming as an intolerable invasion, Elizabeth began to pity him—a little—for being so far removed from his usual surroundings.
“It is one of our little traditions,” she said to him. He looked startled to have been addressed, and Elizabeth qualified her statement by pointing to his glass. “For as long as I can remember, we have had a glass of punch after church on Christmas Day. We have been doing it for so long I cannot recall how it began.”
“It began the year you were in London, Lizzy,” said her father. “Mr Gordon’s wife had a baby in the early hours of Christmas Day, and he had a tipple before the service to celebrate.”
“A tipple?” said Mrs Bennet. “He could barely stand up in the pulpit.”
“And I said that if it was acceptable for the clergy to enjoy Christmas that well, then so would I. And, of course, we were all missing you, Lizzy, so we had Hill prepare us something to soothe our spirits.”
Mr Darcy looked as though he might speak, but Mary made a mistake at the pianoforte and attempted to disguise it by banging out the correction with even greater energy.
Miss de Bourgh made a great show of being alarmed, pressing a hand to her chest dramatically and grumbling, “Is that really necessary?”
Mr Darcy looked at her sullenly but said nothing.Probably because he agrees, Elizabeth thought bitterly. Then she smiled, for she scarcelydisagreed herself.
“As Christmas traditions go, I like this one better than most,” said Mr Gardiner, raising his glass to the room and taking a sip.
