Enclosed is the music for two cradle songs I thought we might learn and play for the baby when he or she arrives. Mention it not to Lizzy in your letters. Let it be our surprise when next you visit, which I hope will be very soon.
Wishing you a very happy Christmas,
Yours sincerely,
Miss Georgiana Darcy
Thursday 24 December 1812, Derbyshire
“’Tis a play!” Fitzwilliam shouted. At Mrs Gardiner’s nod, he gave a bark of triumph—it being his only correct guess of the entire game.
It was a game to which everybody’s (mostly) willing participation he could only attribute to the vast quantity of mulled wine and punch collectively consumed over the course of the evening. Whatever had brought on the singularly peaceable interlude, he approved of it, for against all odds everybody seemed to be having uncommonly good fun.
“’Tis but one word,” Elizabeth surmised from her aunt’s raised index finger—and then, “One syllable.”
“You might actually guess this one then, Dickie,” mumbled Ashby from the chair next to Fitzwilliam.
“Fie, you have not guessed one correctly yet, either.”
A host of calls loosely apropos of horses erupted around them as Mrs Gardiner began enacting her clue.
“Mayhap my understanding does not run to a mercantile bent,” Ashby said under his breath.
“Untwist your ballocks, man. The Gardiners are very good people.”
Indeed, Mrs Gardiner was presently proving what a very good sport she was, galloping to and fro before the fire, to everybody’s delight.
“Stallion?” Fitzwilliam guessed.
“One ruddy syllable, you ninny,” Ashby grumbled, adding, “And my manservant is a very good person. It does not mean I wish him to cease pressing my shirts and begin playing parlour games with me after dinner.”
“Mare?” called Mrs Sinclair.
“Upon my word, you are a fastidious arse,” Fitzwilliam hissed. “Even Lady Catherine has condescended to converse with them. She and Mrs Gardiner exchanged ten wordsat leastover dinner.”
Ashby snorted. “Lady Catherine only approves of the woman because she believes it is deference that makes her blush and mumble whenever Darcy addresses her.”
Fitzwilliam had to smirk. He, too, had noticed Mrs Gardiner’s appreciation for his fair-favoured cousin. “Let her think it is deference if it makes the situation more palatable to her.”
“Trot?” Gardiner tried.
“It makes it no more palatable for me,” Ashby replied.
Fitzwilliam gave up attempting to placate him with reason and handed him his hip flask instead. “Here. Have something spiritual to cleanse the injury to your pride.”
Ashby accepted the flask with a broad grin then shouted, “Charge?”
Mrs Gardiner shook her head.Still,she galloped about on the rug, now looking exceedingly vexed.
“Horse!” Lady Ashby said for possibly the third time, seeming bemused it was still not correct.
“Steed?” Montgomery guessed.
Again, Mrs Gardiner shook her head and galloped furiously back the other way. Fitzwilliam heard Elizabeth hoot with laughter.
“Reins?” Gardiner attempted again. “Horse?”
“That has already been said!”
