Christmas at Pemberley

Part 4

A/N - Just popping on to wish you a Happy Thanksgiving if you celebrate, and if not...Happy Thursday! :)

Mr Daniel Lambert drew in a breath and moved his chair a little closer to the table in front of him. It didn't help. Whenever he tried to make sense of the papers before him his eyes still persisted in blurring the words together so that he could scarcely tell his Joseph from his Josiah. He blinked, massaging the spot on between his eyes where his head had begun to pound mercilessly. I shall never be ready in time, he thought, turning to his bible and tracing the familiar passages with his index finger.

For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.

This was a passage he knew well enough that he could recite it by heart: he had heard it every year of his life at this time and it would not even be his first time making the recitation. Why, then, was he struggling so to craft a sermon around it? It need not be much, he reminded himself, repeating the words his predecessor had said, before patting him briskly on the shoulder and remarking upon how very much he enjoyed the prospect of a Christmas when the responsibilities of sharing the gospel would not fall to him.

This is the very thing I longed for, worked for, prayed for! Daniel reminded himself, wondering how many times he would be forced to recall this fact before he began to appreciate that he had precisely what had been promised him: a curacy of his own, in the picturesque Derbyshire Dales. He glanced to the window, but instead of seeing the rolling hills he saw people, a great number of them. He shuddered and forced his attention back to his papers, reminded in spite of himself of the great responsibility he now bore. These people needed to be told the good news, reminded of the reason behind their celebrations, and if he did not finish his preparations there would be no sermon to offer on the most important of all holy days in the Christian calendar.

For unto us a child is born...

"Do you think people will be content with beef? I did think of serving turkey, but that is so often what people choose to eat at Christmas that it seemed quite improper to serve at our dinner as well."

In spite of himself, Daniel's head lifted, his eyes seeking out the noisy young lady at the table closest to him. She had stopped looking at him, at least. He knew she was aware of his irritation, for, despite his best attempts at hiding it, his human frailty had permitted him several pointed exhalations and exaggerated attention to his work. Could she not see that he laboured over something important - far more so than what meal might be served at a dinner, in any case. You have servants who might organise this, surely. Why not plague them with your endless opining and leave me to work in peace?

It was not a kind sentiment, and he reproached himself for it immediately. The old Daniel Lambert would have been far more generous. He might even have smiled at the ladies, for they made a pretty pair, sipping their tea delicately and discussing an evening celebration they were still in the stages of detailed planning and preparing for. If it were any other day but today, he told himself. I simply must get this finished and I cannot keep getting distracted by young ladies incapable of lowering their voices!

This was uncharitable, and he saw the face of his own cousin, Margaret, in his mind's eye, poking him sharply in the ribs for being such a spoilsport. Let the ladies have their fun, Daniel. Simply because you are a bore who cannot be torn from his books for an hour altogether does not mean we must all while away our time in studious silence.

This made him smile in spite of himself, and the ache in his head dropped to his chest, which he rubbed absent-mindedly. He missed his cousin. She would be preparing for her own Christmas celebrations now with her husband and young son. His aunt and uncle would be visiting them, surely, enjoying the excuse to reunite the family.

His own family had not required the same excuse: his father was only too determined to remain in London and enjoy all that high society had to offer. He had little interest in country parishes, even the one that had landed in his son's lap. Or perhaps particularly this one!

"...you absolutely must play for us, Georgiana!" the lady opposite him was saying, turning her attention from dining to entertainment. She beamed at her friend and Daniel was forced to admit, again, only in the privacy of his own mind, that she was quite pretty when she smiled. Her eyes were bright with humour and he shuddered, almost in spite of himself, thinking he was not sure he would like to be at the mercy of those eyes, which would surely be as prone to teasing as his own cousin, and as merciless.

"I am quite sure everybody is tired of hearing me play, Lizzy," her companion murmured, and Daniel felt his ears prick up in spite of himself. She was the younger, he thought, for there was a meekness and a quietness in her that was not so evident in her friend. Where the elder of the two was dark-haired and quick-witted, her eyes traversing the room as quickly as her mind leapt from topic to topic, her friend was more careful. She spoke softly and with a consideration that made Daniel lean a little closer, almost unconsciously, to hear her better.

"They certainly have no desire to hear me!" The dark-haired Lizzy declared, swallowing the last of her tea and setting her cup down with a clatter. She tilted her head to one side, regarding her friend thoughtfully. "Although if you are playing you cannot dance and that will certainly not do!"

"I do not mind not dancing," Georgiana replied, colouring a little at the suggestion.

Daniel frowned. There was nothing so very scandalous about dancing at what must be a friendly neighbourhood party. Why was this young lady so reticent? Could she really be so very shy as all that?

She looked up at him, then, and he was so surprised that their eyes met for a moment before he was recalled to himself and managed to wrench his gaze away.

"I cannot work here!" he declared, eager to distract from having been caught in the very act of eavesdropping - which behaviour he quite despised in others and regretted discovering in himself. He shuffled his papers together so angrily that he knocked his bible to the floor with a resounding thump. Bending to retrieve it, he sent a sharp glare at the table the two young ladies sat at, now ceasing from conversing altogether to observe his performance. "It is too full of frivolous conversation to allow a fellow even a moment of peace and quiet. I see I shall be forced to take my work and go elsewhere!"

Snatching up his papers, he stalked noisily towards the door, ignoring the hammering of his heart in his chest and praying that his bluster concealed his embarrassment at being caught staring at the young ladies. They did not seem stunned by his outburst, rather amused. They were laughing at him! His heart sank. He was worse than an eavesdropper, worse than bad-tempered. He was a laughingstock. And he had not yet even set foot in his pulpit!