Carolyn Eberhart - A Darcy Christmas

“I can remember a time when you liked a roast goose well enough yourself, Alice,” recalled Mr. Gardiner, setting his granddaughter on his knee.

“I did not forever go on about it,” Alice said.

“Oh, did you not? Rebecca, your mother used to—” Robert started.

But Alice quickly interrupted. “Father has not finished his story. What happened then?”

“Where was I? Ah, yes, the poor were to go to the publicly supported institutions. I then replied that many would rather die than go to such places. ‘If they would rather die,’ said Scrooge, ‘they had better do it, and decrease the surplus population.’”

“The man is positively dreadful,” exclaimed Elizabeth.

“Seeing clearly that it would be useless to pursue the point, we withdrew. We agreed that we had never met a more tight-fisted old sinner! Luckily for the Society, most of the businesses we approached were generous enough to give at least a little to our cause.”

“I agree that he was most unpleasant, but as there is nothing extraordinary in that part of the tale, misers are not uncommon,” Darcy remarked.

“I am getting to that part, never fear.” He took another sip of wine and leaned forward to continue his tale when the door to the parlor opened yet again.

“Dinner is served,” announced the butler.

“Can it not wait until the tale is done?” asked Alice.

“No, no, my dear, the turkey is ready and must not be kept waiting; I shall finish the tale after our grand feast. Come along, Rebecca.” Taking his granddaughter’s hand, he led the exodus out of the parlor and into the dining room.

Sometime later, when bellies were full of a bountiful Christmas repast, the family retired to the large drawing room, where a Christmas tree stood tall and proud.

“What think you of this new fashion, Darcy?” Mr. Gardiner asked, surveying the tree.

“I like it very much,” exclaimed Rebecca. “It is very pretty.”

“Yes, indeed, but I did not ask you, my dear.”

“It is an old custom in some parts of the world, I am told. Whether it will remain in fashion here, only time will tell, but I like it well enough.”

“As do I. Now dear Uncle, you have kept us in suspense long enough, do finish your story,” Elizabeth demanded.

“Very well, my dear. Some members of the Benevolent Society gathered this morning, so we could deliver the goods we had purchased.”

“Well, what happened to you?” demanded young Timothy Darcy.

“I had decided to walk to our meeting, it being such a beautiful morning. I had not gone far when I beheld Mr. Scrooge coming toward me. Having no wish to remember the unpleasantness of the day before, I did my best to ignore the old gentleman, only to be waylaid by a hail from Scrooge himself.

“‘My dear sir,’ he exclaimed, taking both my hands. ‘How do you do? I hope you succeeded exceptionally well yesterday. It was very kind of you. A Merry Christmas to you, sir!’

“‘Mr. Scrooge?’ I asked, for I was dumbfounded and wondering if my memory was so faulty that I had attributed Scrooge’s faults onto an innocent look-alike.

“He answered in the affirmative. ‘I fear my presence may not be pleasant to you. Allow me to ask your pardon. And will you have the goodness to accept a substantial donation to your cause, say £5,000?’”

“Lord bless me!” croaked Bingley, his breath being taken away.

“Was he serious, do you think?” commented Robert.

“Very serious, for while I was still doubting what I heard, he continued, ‘Not a farthing less. A great many back-payments are included in it, I assure you. Will you do me that favor?’

“‘My dear sir,’ I began to shake his hand most violently. ‘I don’t know what to say to such munificence—’

“‘Don’t say anything, please,’ retorted Scrooge. ‘Come and see me. Will you come and see me?’

“‘I will!’ I cried.

“‘Thank you,’ said Scrooge. ‘I am much obliged to you. I thank you fifty times. Bless you!’

“Well, I stood in the street for a good five minutes, trying to grasp what had just befallen before hurrying on to our meeting. I entered the room with such a stunned expression on my face that the others could not but wonder what had happened to me. So I told them the same story that I told you. The members rejoiced at what £5,000 could provide to those we serve. I mean to visit Scrooge at the earliest opportunity, for one cannot know how long such a transformation will last.”

“I will believe it when the money is received and not a moment before,” Darcy stated, such was his ill impression of the man.

“What could have occurred to cause such a transformation?” Elizabeth commented.

“I wondered that myself and so I asked him.”

“You spoke with him about it?” asked Jane.

“Scrooge again hailed me as I was on my way here, he looked so pleasant and also younger. Yesterday I would have figured he was as old or older than myself.”

“As ancient as that then?” Bingley asked with a twinkle in his eye.

“Quite ancient, but it was his spirit and demeanor that made him appear so aged—in reality he is only a little older than yourself and Darcy. One of the Society members vaguely remembered that he was a young man when he established his business some thirty years ago. But let us return to the present Mr. Scrooge. ‘Good day, sir! A Merry Christmas to you! It seems to be our day for chance meetings. You are still coming to see me tomorrow?’

“‘I nodded in agreement.’

“‘And where are you off to?’ he asked.

“I explained that I was going to have Christmas dinner with my family and he said he was about to do same. I thought he seemed excited yet anxious about the visit. He was about to turn away when I again thanked him very much for his generosity this morning.

“He commented that he had not known that generosity could make a man feel so happy.

“Emboldened by his response, I asked what had occurred to change him so, that only yesterday a penny was too much to give to the poor and today his liberality is overflowing.

“‘I have been blessed by the Christmas Spirits, Mr. Gardiner, the Christmas Spirits have the way to making a man change his destiny,’ he said, before turning and walking away.”

He did not see Darcy stiffen upon these words, but Elizabeth did and her hand reached out to clasp his.

“At first, I thought he meant some sort of liquor, but I could tell he was not drunk. So, I wondered who are these spirits and how can I get hold of one of them?”

“They only come when one is in need of them,” Darcy answered without thinking. And he was grateful for them every day. He looked around the room, at the faces of his family and friends, and knew he would be thankful until the day he died. Elizabeth reached over to him and clasped his hand.

“What did you say?”

“I say that it is time to light the candles upon the tree,” Elizabeth interrupted. “Now children, you must be very careful. Light only one candle and then back away. All the candles will be lit, never fear.”

When the task was completed and the room aglow, Elizabeth began to play Christmas carols and the family joined in singing until their throats grew dry. Luckily, the servants were just then bringing in a large punch bowl. As soon as everyone had a cup, Bingley exclaimed, “I think we need a toast. Mr. Gardiner, will you do the honors?”

“I propose we drink to Mr. Scrooge, for changing his heart in such a dramatic and generous manner, so God bless Mr. Scrooge.”

Everyone drank to the toast.

“Can I make a toast?” asked Timothy, tugging on Bingley’s coat.

“Certainly. Come with me.” Bingley led the boy over to the piano bench and helped him stand upon it. “Your attention everyone, Master Timothy would like to make a toast.”

“God Bless Grandmama and Grandfather, and Father and Mother and Uncle and Bingley and…” He broke off, looking around at the all faces in the room. “Ah, God bless us, every one!” 

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a married man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of an heir, and Mr. Darcy of Pemberley was just such a man. Moreover, he was soon to have that want satisfied, for his wife, Elizabeth, was expecting their first child. As he watched her reading her mail at the breakfast table, his heart swelled with pride.

She opened a second letter and smiled.

“Jane has had the baby!” she said. “A boy!”

“So Bingley is a father,” said Darcy with evident pleasure.

“And Jane is a mother. Oh, my dear Jane, how proud and pleased she must be. Bingley is besotted,” said Elizabeth, returning to her letter. “Jane says she can scarcely persuade him to leave the nursery to eat and sleep. She adds, and it is not to be wondered at, for little Charles is the most beautiful baby you have ever seen.” Elizabeth looked up at Darcy. “Jane would like us to stay with her for Christmas. She says she can wait no longer to show us the new baby, as well as the new house. I am sure I cannot wait to see them. I will give orders for the packing at once.”

“No, we cannot go and see them just yet,” said Darcy. He looked at his wife’s full figure as she rose unsteadily to her feet. “You forget your condition.”

“I never forget my condition,” she said with a rueful smile, resting her hand on her rounded stomach.

“We will wait a few weeks nevertheless,” he said. “It will be better that way.”

“What nonsense! I am perfectly able to climb into the carriage, and that is all I need to do,” she said, laughing at him.