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Lizzy was the first of her family to wake, early on Christmas morn. She crept to the window and peeped out, no longer surprised to see the blanket of white which appeared to have grown still thicker overnight. She shivered, and pulled a shawl over her shoulders, folding her feet beneath her and creeping closer to the window. She had never known a winter like this one. The snow simply fell and fell, and never did the temperature rise enough to melt it.
It is all very well saying one does not object to being snowed-in, she thought, ruefully bringing to mind her own words at such an imagined fate. She had spoken quite glibly of the idea, claiming she, for one, would adore the idea of having nowhere to go and nobody to see. She would, at last, be permitted to lie in bed all day and read her books or talk in whispers with Jane, for the sisters continued to puzzle over Mr Bingley’s absence from their lives and plot some way in which Jane might yet win his heart. Their first plan, that Jane return with the Gardiners to London, had been routed almost immediately by the weather. The snow had come on so quickly and heavily that the notion of the Gardiners joining them for Christmas, as was their tradition, was rendered impossible. Lizzy had mourned the fact, for she adored her aunt and uncle and all of her cousins, and not to have Longbourn bursting at the seams at Christmas made it feel as if it were not Christmas at all.
So, the puzzle of Mr Bingley’s affections remained unsolved, and Lizzy continued to hope and pray there would yet be a conclusion in her sister’s favour. Happiness could not come so near and then be snatched away from them, surely. Not at Christmas!
A memory, slight and fleeting, danced through Lizzy’s mind and she bit her lip. Mr Bingley had left, certainly, and he had taken his friend with him. She did not imagine that she would mourn the loss of Mr Darcy, and yet the winter seemed an interminably bleak one without either gentleman on the horizon of their association. She had not fully appreciated just how much of a difference the letting of Netherfield Park but a few months previously would have on the small world of Longbourn, yet scarcely a day now passed when one sister would not mention, with a sigh or a giggle, what a pity it was that Netherfield stood deserted once more. But one party! Lydia would lament. That is all we were afforded. One single party. It is too cruel!
Lydia’s notion of cruelty was an entirely selfish one, for she treated the departure of the Netherfield party with almost as much imagined tragedy as she did the rumour of the looming departure of the regiment. She cared little for their fate, for the wars or rumours of wars. She cared only that Meryton would soon be bereft of almost every eligible dancing partner. And now, with the snow, she was without a single opportunity to dance! Lizzy snorted. Lydia had not taken kindly to her pointing out that there was some providence in the absence of both partners and opportunity, in that case, for what good was one without the other?
Wrapping her arms around her knees, Lizzy leaned her forehead down upon them, smiling to herself. She wondered if the spirit of Christmas had yet worked its magic or whether Lydia would still be giving her the silent treatment all day, punctuated only by occasional sighs and glares whenever Lizzy dared to attempt to speak to her.
“Good morning, Lizzy,” Jane said, stifling a yawn. She propped herself up in bed and leaned past her sister to peer out of the window, shuddering at the sight of yet more snow. “How beautiful it looks! And how cold.”
“It is winter, Janey, what do you expect?” Lizzy laughed, leaning back and wrapping her shawl around the both of them. Jane shifted so that they were sitting parallel and leaned her head on Lizzy’s shoulder.
“Merry Christmas,” she murmured.
“Merry Christmas! It will be a quiet one this year, I suppose.” Lizzy stifled her own yawn. “Just think, if the Gardiners were here, the whole house would be awakened by now, to the sounds of excited children running around.” She grinned, wickedly at her sister. “What do you say we put on just such a show, for dear Mama and Papa? I dare say they are missing the energy of a full house.”
“Don’t you dare!” Jane said, with a laugh. “I am quite looking forward to a Christmas where Mama does not wake in a bad mood, nursing a headache and bemoaning her lack of sleep.” She frowned, thoughtfully. “I suppose we shall not even manage to make it to church today, for the roads look entirely impassable.”
“What Heathens we have become!” Lizzy declared, struggling to hold back her laughter. “I wonder what Mary’s Sermons will have to say on the matter!”
***
“WHAT DO YOU THINK BECAME of poor Darcy, Caro?”
Caroline sighed, gritting her teeth. She had lost count of how often her brother had sought to mention Mr Darcy’s absence, his current state, his planned return. Charles had not yet mentioned Netherfield directly, but Caroline knew it was only a matter of time.
“I dare say he is taking advantage of the opportunity to spend a quiet Christmas in his own home.” This was a lie, and she winced a little as she said it, but Charles, thankfully, did not seem to notice. His attention was fixed on the window, and he watched the milling crowds as if he might see their very friend amongst them, picking his way carefully amidst the snow.
Caroline’s heart turned over. In truth, she had no way of knowing what had become of Mr Darcy. He had volunteered, with only the slightest request, to return alone to Netherfield and retrieve the case that Charles had left when she, Caroline, had done the only thing she could think of to keep her brother from going with him.
“I hope you are continuing to recover, Caro,” Charles said, wrenching his attention away from the window and crossing the spacious parlour to where Caroline sat, wrapped in a blanket she did not need, and nursing a headache she did not have.
“Yes, thank you,” she said, primly. She felt another tug of guilt in her heart at the notion that she had worried her brother so, for Charles did indeed look worried as he fixed his attention on her. “I told you I would rally in time, and with stillness.”
Charles frowned.
“I still wonder at the wisdom of not requesting the doctor...” he mused. “Now that we are a day after Christmas I am sure he would come, if only to ease your concerns.”
“I have no concerns.” Caroline injected her voice with a breezy, nonchalant tone. “You need not fear for my health, Charles. I told you then and I shall tell you again, all is well. I need but to rest.” Sensing he was about to make some suggestion as to the restful nature of Netherfield in the countryside, she spoke on rapidly, silencing any such comment. “Here, in our own London home, I do feel so much more at ease than I think I have anywhere else in all of England!”
“Really?” This was news to Charles, and Caroline bit her lip, recalling at length that this was the exact opposite of the reasoning she had given him for their taking Netherfield to begin with. Let us go to the country, Charles, and have a break from this hectic whirl of London life! Then her reasons had been two-fold, and selfish. On the one hand, she wished to escape the recent engagement of her friend Arabella Stephens - to the very gentleman she, Caroline, had imagined was in love with her - and on the other, she had known that Charles would think of inviting Fitzwilliam Darcy and if there was any suitable substitute for Arabella’s ill-gotten beau it was Mr Darcy. Caroline grimaced. She had not bargained on a houseful of scheming Bennets not only undermining her own plans for Mr Darcy’s heart but stealing their way into her brother’s!
“Oh, you know how London is at Christmas!” She laughed, a little unconvincingly. “It slows down and becomes almost restful. Especially with the snow. Why, ever so many gatherings and engagements have been cancelled on account of it.” Her mind began to piece things together, and she brightened, hoping her changed mood would be contagious and seek to cheer her brother also. “I dare say it is the weather that delays Mr Darcy’s return to us. Come, Charles, sit beside me near the fire. Shall we not have a hand of cards or a game of chess? Some occupation will surely suit you, and I can sense you are eager or some sort of activity.”
“Very well.” Charles’ response was rather less enthusiastic than Caroline might have wished for, but he was obedient nonetheless, focusing his attention on setting up a derelict chess set within easy reach of the both of them. Caroline had no great skill at chess, but she could hold her own well enough against her brother, whose impetuosity in life carried over into his gaming and left him too often acting in haste and repenting at leisure. As well he would have done had he been left to pursue Jane Bennet! Caroline reminded herself. She might feel guilty at the way she had manipulated her brother in order to separate the pair and bring an end to their rapidly blossoming romance, but she would not regret her reasons for doing so. She cared for her brother and wished him to be happy. However could such a thing be managed with Jane Bennet as his bride?
“Now I believe you are recovering,” Charles said, with a grin. “For it is a while since I have seen such a brightness to your expression. Had I known all it would take was a game of chess by the fire - why, we might have managed such a thing at Netherfield, and never needed to travel back to London, to begin with!”
“It would not have been achieved at Netherfield,” Caroline snapped, replacing one of Charles’ pawns with her own. “No, I tired of the country long before now. Frankly, I cannot imagine how anyone can bear to remain there.” Her voice lowered, cruelly. “I suppose, in certain cases, it cannot be helped, for if one has not the money nor the connections to live elsewhere one must be happy with one’s lot.”
Charles drew his lips into a line but wisely did not respond. They played on in silence, but Caroline felt the same unwarranted flood of guilt that, quite unnecessarily, she blundered and allowed her brother to win the game easily. Ordinarily, he would rejoice at his victory but this time his own expression was muted and she wondered if, happy as she was to have left Netherfield behind, Charles would ever embrace London life again.