Mr Darcy's Christmas Carol

Part 21

Darkness was falling by the time Darcy and Bingley arrived at Netherfield. They had been inveigled into spending far longer than either one intended to at Longbourn, a state which neither gentlemen appeared to mind.

Indeed, Darcy was surprised how little he himself had minded it. Instead of being irritated by Mrs Bennet's pestering, he had been touched to note the genuine affection the older woman appeared to display at seeing their neighbours returned so soon to Hertfordshire. Much of her attention had been focused on Bingley, too, which allowed Darcy all the freedom he might wish for in observing the interactions of the other people in the room. Mrs Gardiner had been eager to speak with him again, and he was glad to hear her relate her memories of his father from when she was a girl. That she had done so within Elizabeth's hearing ought to have been a cause for concern, that Elizabeth might think ill of him to enjoy having his father's many virtues thus paraded. Instead, when he had chanced to look at her, he had seen real sympathy in her features for the departed old Mr Darcy, and the impact such a loss had had on his only son.

Indeed, it was in his interactions with Elizabeth that he had been most pleasantly surprised. She had been cautious, at first, but relaxed as the day wore on, so that their conversations evolved from the stilted small talk of strangers to a vast and vivid exchange of feelings on everything from the weather to the latest developments in France, to current trends in books, music, art - in short, he had found her to be as witty and intelligent as his subconscious had intimated her to be, yet in this iteration he had not struggled in keeping up his own end of the conversation. At his mention of Georgiana, she had smiled, and bid him tell her more about his sister, who had up until then been but a name to her. This was easy for Darcy: he was fond of his sister and enjoyed speaking of her virtues, of which there were many. It did him good, too, to dwell on this truer picture of Georgiana than the one his dreams had tormented him with the previous evening. How delighted he would be to behold her again in the flesh and be able to reassure himself, for certain, that she was her own self and not some festive sprite sent to disturb his sleeping self.

"What a fine day!" Bingley declared, as they finished a light supper and retired to the study. Neither gentlemen wished to be too demanding of the staff that were surprised by their return, so they had settled to drinking brandy in a small room that could be easily warmed by a fire and good company.

"It certainly appears to have cheered your spirits," Darcy acknowledged, crossing his legs at the ankle and leaning back in the comfortable chair that he had claimed as his own during his stay at Netherfield.

"Yes, I take no shame in confessing my spirits were a little discontent at being in London," Charles acknowledged, taking a sip of his drink. "I much prefer living in the country, and with such kind neighbours as the Bennets - I really feel we shall have a far better Christmas than anything Caroline might have conjured for us in London." He smiled, recalling some delicate moment of conversation between himself and Jane Bennet earlier that very day. "I think we might ride over there again tomorrow, Darcy, and pay a proper call."

"What was today, if not a proper call?" Darcy asked, nonetheless willing to indulge his friend in this flight of fancy.

"It was an opportunity: but it is not how these things ought really to be done," Bingley mused. "Mr Bennet was not at home, and really -" he paused, straightening a little in his chair and colouring in his cheeks that was not entirely due to his proximity to the fire crackling in the hearth.

"You do not move slowly, do you, Charles?" Darcy acknowledged, with a grin.

"What cause is there to delay?" Charles was philosophical. "You said yourself that Miss Bennet is all that is beautiful and good in the world. It serves me ill to toy with her on account of patience or propriety."

"The first you have not been innately blessed with: the second, I shall recommend you adhere to." Darcy saluted him with his glass, nonetheless happy to see his friend so enthusiastic and contented with his plans.

"Then you will ride over with me?" Charles asked, chewing his lip. "For I confess I do not wish to go alone."

"I hardly think you need me-" Darcy began.

"Oh, but I do. I shall ruin it, I know I shall. What is it one says? Dearly beloved..."

"That is the minister," Darcy interjected, drily. "I do not believe the Church of England has yet conceived of a liturgy for the eligible young suitor proposing marriage."

"Of course." Charles grinned, downing his drink in one mouthful with a grimace. "You see? I need you by my side, for Mr Bennet will think me quite stupid and is likely to deny me my opportunity on account of it." Charles' voice dropped. "And I am not stupid, only a little nervous."

"Which state he will no doubt praise you for. It speaks to your good character and the depths of your affections for Miss Bennet." Darcy rose, pouring a drop more brandy into his glass and refilling Charles'. "If you wish me there, of course, I will come."

"You are a good friend, Darcy." Charles yawned. "And now that that is settled, I think I shall retire." He set his glass down, scarcely noticing it still contained some brandy.

Darcy bid him goodnight but lingered a while in the warm glow of the fire. He was not surprised to see Bingley so intent on declaring his feelings to Jane and securing her hand in marriage so soon. In fact, he rejoiced at it. He had successfully routed one part of his dream, thus he could feel satisfied the rest would fade like smoke as well. He shook his head, marvelling at the power such images had held over him. Still, now, in the shadows cast by the fire against the wall, he could recall every emotion that had plagued him in his dreams. What nonsense, he thought, sleepily swallowing the last of his draught and feeling his eyelids grow heavy. Surely I am the only adult in all England so tormented by figments of my own imagination!