The same thankfulness that was in Darcy’s heart seemed to animate the reverend’s sermon. It sang through every note of the choir, and in all the well-wishes and greetings exchanged outside the church after the service.
Upon returning to Pemberley, the party gathered in the drawing room. A late breakfast of cold meats, fruits, cheeses, and holiday desserts had been laid out. The meal was a most pleasant one, and the enjoyment of it heightened by the view of tiny snowflakes falling outside the garden windows.
“Christmas is such a wonderful time of year,” Georgiana said. “Nothing can compare for good company, warm wishes and celebration.”
“Yes, well, what I want to know is when the gifts will be brought out?” Wickham chuckled. He rubbed his hands together in jesting expectancy, wrapping an arm around Georgiana’s shoulders.
The idea was promptly seconded, and they gathered around the hearth to begin.
Georgiana received new sheet music not only from Darcy and Elizabeth, as he had already known would be the case, but from Fitzwilliam, Anne, and Lady Catherine as well. Far from being disappointed by the repeated gift, Georgiana was overcome with gratitude. Upon opening Elizabeth’s present, the last of all, she impulsively reached over and took her hand. “I am undone. Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart!” she smiled.
“There is one thing more,” Darcy told her. “You cannot unwrap it today, but Elizabeth and I shall purchase a pianoforte for your home in London. It will be a perfect complement to your new music.”
Georgiana’s mouth hung agape. “You cannot be serious! Fitzwilliam, it is too much,” she breathed.
“Nonsense. When we are next in London, we will all go together, and you can have your choice of instrument.”
“You cannot do otherwise than accept,” Elizabeth added gently. “I insist on it, for I cannot bear to think of you spending many days without playing.”
Georgiana surprised everyone and immediately flung her arms around Elizabeth, hugging her close. Darcy watched them, feeling a catch in his throat. He suspected he would longremember the image of his little sister embracing his wife, and feel the same warm glow of joy each time.
Wickham’s present to his wife was a small silver necklace. But though it was not of the finest quality, nor very suited to what Darcy knew of Georgiana’s taste, she received it with unfeigned gratitude. “Oh, how darling! Thank you very much. Will you help me put it on?”
“Most gladly, my dear girl,” Wickham said smoothly, putting his arms about her neck to do up the clasps. “There! All done. I know it is not what it should be. Hopefully, next year, I will be able to give you better things.” Most pointedly, Wickham caught and held Darcy’s gaze. “I have a feeling I will.”
The hope was rather an extraordinary one, given that Darcy had said he would be taken to a review aftertwoyears, but Darcy chose not to spoil the moment by pointing this out.
“There is no need. I am very happy with this.” Georgiana gingerly touched the pendant, as though in reverence. “It is beautiful.”
To Darcy’s surprise, Lady Catherine had unbent so far as to give Elizabeth a present, if only of a book of etiquette. She seemed surprised to receive Elizabeth’s unstinting thanks — and upon being presented with a gift in return, even her best efforts could not hide her growing affection for her new niece by marriage. When Elizabeth pressed her hand, he believed he even saw a tear in Lady Catherine’s eye, impossible though it seemed. Only moments later, she was scolding Fitzwilliam for a too-boisterous joke and demanding that he show her the present he had given to Anne.
Darcy watched quietly from the hearth, his heart warmed by the show of familial affection. It had been many long yearssince they had experienced a Christmas like this, surrounded by the people they loved. In recent years, it had only been him and Georgiana at Pemberley during the holidays. It was good to have the house filled with laughter, singing, and music.
His heart lifted when Elizabeth approached him once more, after making her rounds to make sure everyone had received the gift she had purchased for them and to wish them well on the holiday. “How are you, my dear?” he asked as she came near.
“I am very well,” she said, smiling up at him. She stood very close to him, her arm brushing against his coat sleeve. It was almost too much for him to bear. “But I wish you would not call me ‘my dear’.”
“Oh? Why not?” he asked.
“Well, it was always what my father called my mother when he was cross about something.”
He chuckled, lowering his voice. “Then what endearments am I allowed?” he asked.
“I must think about that. For now, allow me to give you your present.” She retrieved a small wrapped parcel and gave it to him, a little shyly. “Happy Christmas, Mr Darcy.”
As eagerly as a boy, Darcy began to unwrap it. When the contents were at last uncovered, he was struck silent, too deeply moved to speak. His present was simply too perfect, too thoughtful.
Too Elizabeth.
The contents of the parcel were a small painting in watercolour, of amateur skill but excellent taste, and so carefullydrawn and coloured that the subject was immediately clear. It depicted one of his favourite walks in the gardens, on the border of the woods, in the full flush of autumn colour. With a sudden thrill of certainty, Darcy knew it had become a favourite to Elizabeth, too.
“Do you like it?” she asked, a little shyly.
“Very much,” Darcy told her, willing his eyes to express what he could not say in words before so many people.
“I am glad,” she said simply.
“You painted it yourself, did you not?”
