Christmas at Pemberley

Part 12

A carol concert.

Daniel was smiling so broadly that his cheeks hurt with the effort. Even despite all that he could not help but think he was not entirely convincing.

"You would not need to do anything," Georgiana said, haughtily, when it was apparent he ought to have said a little more to persuade her, and the rest of the dinner guests, of his enthusiasm about the plan. "Although it would be an advantage if we might be permitted to use the church."

"The church." Daniel could hear himself parroting her words back to her like some sort of automaton and cleared his throat, swapping his smile for a nod. "Well, Miss Darcy, whatever you require. I am sure it will be a wonderful way to mark the season."

"Perhaps Georgiana and I might call there tomorrow to begin rehearsals," Mrs Darcy put in when nobody else had spoken for an endlessly long moment. "We shall do our utmost to find some eager and willing recruits in the morning and call at the church in the afternoon."

"Very good. Yes." Daniel nodded. He was relieved when his neighbours gradually began to pick up their conversations again, all eagerly commenting on the children in their families who would want to take part in such an extravaganza.

"You will be able to witness Miss Darcy's musical prowess yourself after dinner," Mrs Gardiner remarked, with a benevolent smile at the young lady sitting next to Daniel. "She is an extraordinary musical talent."

He turned to smile at Georgiana, surprised when her expression turned from vague dislike to a syrupy smile.

"Fear not, Mr Lambert, I shall not insist on playing at the Christmas concert. That shall only be singing. A choir. Perhaps you might care to weigh in with your opinion on the type of music you would prefer...?"

"I defer to your skills, Miss Darcy. You, it seems, are the musician."

There was a strange light in Miss Darcy's eyes as if she was not quite sure what to make of his comment and he smiled again, unsurprised when it did not have the desired effect of making her smile too, but instead provoked a frown. He seemed incapable of impressing Miss Georgiana Darcy. Whatever he did seemed only to turn her even more sternly against him.

"Do you dance, Mr Lambert?" she asked, abruptly, as their next course arrived, and the cheerful rumble of conversation began around them.

"I do, Miss Darcy." This was evidently a surprise to her, for her eyebrows lifted quite uncharacteristically, and he felt a strange flicker of pride at offering her an answer she did not expect. He was no dancer but it was certainly no lie to say that he did, on occasion, dance.

"It is not too frivolous an occupation for you?"

There was some strange emphasis on the word frivolous as if it contained a key to unlock her entire antipathy and Daniel recalled, too late, when he had applied the word to the very young lady in front of him. He felt heat flood his face and bent over his plate, feigning an interest in his meal when he was, in fact, hurriedly piecing together an apology, an explanation, something to put that unfortunate first meeting far behind him.

"There is a place for frivolity," he began, but he had evidently hesitated too long, for Georgiana had turned abruptly away from him once more, leaving him speaking to nothing but air. He swallowed the rest of his explanation, and coughed, looking down at the table and feeling, again, a wave of loneliness. Here he was dining at one of the finest tables in England, yet he had single-handedly succeeded in alienating his host and making a less than fair impression on those who would make up a large portion of his parish. Very well done, Daniel, he thought, sourly, recalling how his brother would once have mocked him for such a feeble show of success. Robert had only to walk into a room to win an army of devotees, and he spoke twelve words for every one of Daniel's, each finding their mark with elegance and grace. He had a merry temperament for a curate, to be sure, but he was certainly much better skilled at getting people to like him. And once people like you, Dan, they listen to what you have to say. 'Tis all a game of persuasion...

Daniel's throat constricted, as it always did when he thought of his brother. He could not remember Robert in his healthy, hearty prime without soon slipping into how he had looked upon their last meeting, propped up on pillows whose whiteness merely accentuated the pallor of Robert's skin. He might have been any number of things, had he not succumbed to his illness. And if he had never fallen ill, to begin with...well, then everything would not rest quite so heavily on Daniel's own shoulders.

If only I had you with me now, Robert, he thought, his eyes scanning the animated faces of his neighbours and seeing not a single friend among them. Then Christmas, even Christmas in a new parish, might be a joy and not a chore.

And now he had somehow agreed to orchestrate a carol concert with the one young lady who seemed to dislike him most of all. His lips tugged up in a wry smile at that turn of events. Robert would have laughed and set into motion some scheme to succeed not only at the concert but at winning the pretty Miss Darcy's affections. He would succeed at both, of course, being Robert, and turn the whole into a merry, amusing tale to be trotted out on just such occasions as this evening. Daniel's smile faded. But I am not my brother, and I have yet to succeed at anything I try my hand at...