A Christmas Miracle At Longbourn (The Darcy And Lizzy Miracles Book 1) Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice-Kindle

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Other Works

  Author Details

  A Christmas Miracle At Longbourn

  A Pride & Prejudice Variation

  Catherine Bilson

  Copyright © 2018 by Catherine Bilson

  Ebook Edition

  All rights reserved. This ebook or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Darcy, I have had an absolute gut full of your nonsense!”

  “Good evening, Fitz,” Darcy didn’t even look up from his book. “How are you?”

  His cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, eminent younger son of the Earl of Matlock and a highly decorated soldier in His Majesty’s Horse Guards, threw himself into a chair with a most ungentlemanly snort of disgust. “Fine, no thanks to you. I barely managed to escape Almack’s unbetrothed to some horse-faced chit.”

  Darcy didn’t bother to hide his smile. “The hero of Talavera routed by the debutantes of the ton?” He looked at Fitz above the top of his book. “That would have been quite something to see.”

  “Well, if you’d turned up as you were supposed to, you could have seen it for yourself. Oh, wait, you’d have been running for the hills right alongside me.” Fitzwilliam accepted the brandy glass Darcy’s butler handed him. “Thank you, Smith,” he said after an appreciative sip. “Leave the bottle, there’s a good man.”

  Smith set the bottle down on the desk with a nod and departed at Darcy’s discreet gesture. Darcy debated raising his book again as Fitzwilliam took another sip, but in the end marked his place and set the book down.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t come,” he said finally. “I should have sent around a note.”

  “No, you should have turned up,” Fitzwilliam said crossly, setting down his glass. “Where were you, Darce? What emergency kept you away? Mother was absolutely furious; you’ll have her temper to deal with tomorrow, I assure you.”

  Darcy grimaced and reached for the long-emptied glass at his own elbow, pouring another splash of brandy into it. “I was right here, Fitz. I’m truly sorry. I’ll apologise to Aunt Elise tomorrow.”

  “Darned right you will.” Fitzwilliam fixed him with a steady stare before asking “What’s really going on, Darcy?”

  Pausing with the glass at his lips, Darcy thought frantically. He’d used Georgiana as an excuse one too many times recently, particularly since her attitude seemed so markedly improved these last few weeks. His cousin’s eyes narrowed, scenting weakness.

  If Fitzwilliam ever found out that Darcy’s peace of mind had been thoroughly cut up by a country chit with no fortune, no connections, and nothing but a pair of fine eyes to recommend her, Darcy would never hear the end of it.

  “You’ve been down in the dumps ever since you came back from Hertfordshire, and your friend Bingley has been uncharacteristically dull, too. I know it can’t be the worst possible news because we would be preparing for your nuptials with Miss Bingley right now…”

  “That is indeed the worst thing that could possibly have befallen me in Hertfordshire,” Darcy shuddered, making Fitz snicker. An idea suddenly came to him then, a genuine reason why he should stay close to the house at this time. “I didn’t want to worry you with it, but, well, since I know you won’t leave me alone until I confess what’s on my mind… Wickham was in Hertfordshire.”

  “What!” Fitzwilliam shot to his feet, barely catching his brandy glass in time to prevent a spill. “That reprobate! What was he doing there?”

  “He was with the militia quartered there for the winter,” Darcy disclosed, “and I did not mention it to you before because I knew you would react by wanting to rush off there to attempt to detach his head from his shoulders.”

  Scowling at him, Fitzwilliam dropped back into his chair. “But you’re confessing now because..?”

  “Because you won’t shut up and stop nagging me to go out, and I need to stay close because I’m concerned that the bastard might try to get to Georgiana again!”

  “Darcy,” Fitzwilliam shook his head. “If you’d only let me kill him in Ramsgate, you wouldn’t have this worry now.”

  “Indeed, but I should then have to worry instead about your being locked up in Newgate for murder.” Darcy spread his hands. “All things considered, I believe I prefer you free, even if you do seem to make it your personal mission to aggravate me beyond endurance.”

  “Give me that bottle,” Fitzwilliam demanded, and when Darcy pushed it over, he refilled both their glasses. “Now tell me everything about Wickham. Why in God’s name is he in the militia? The man is the biggest coward I have ever met; the concept of bravery is as foreign to him as are the Tsar of Russia’s Cossacks.”

  “Not only that, but he has somehow obtained a commission in said militia and is mingling with the local society as an officer and a gentlemen. Lieutenant Wickham, no less.”

  “You jest!” Fitz stared at him in horror. “My God, is this why Bingley has been so long-faced lately?” He jumped to an erroneous conclusion. “Did Wickham try for his sister? Her dowry’s generous enough… No?”

  Darcy was shaking his head. “Say what you will about Miss Bingley, Fitz, but she’s not foolish enough to fall for the honeyed words of a penniless rake. And that’s if Wickham had been able to overcome his personal cowardice enough to risk being in my close proximity, anyway, because Miss Bingley was doing her best to stick to me like glue.”

  “You must have been absolutely miserable in Hertfordshire,” Fitz commiserated.

  “There were moments when things weren’t so bad,” Darcy said unguardedly as a memory of dancing with Elizabeth crept into his mind. The way her eyes sparkled as she looked up at him, the way her dark curls lay against her blushing cheek, the arch of her brows as she made yet another impertinent remark… he jerked himself back to awareness as Fitzwilliam spoke again.

  “All right, Darcy, I will forgive your distraction of late, and I will speak to Mother for you, though God knows what excuse I will have to make.”

  “Thank you, Fitz,” Darcy said genuinely. “I do not think I would be very good company at the present time anyway.”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” His cousin smiled
broadly. “As long as you are pouring brandy this fine, I believe that I can tolerate you well enough.”

  Darcy laughed, uncorking the bottle to fill Fitz’s glass again. “Yes, but you are easily pleased.”

  “Never tell my men so!”

  “Talking of your men, how goes the training of the new recruits?” Spying an opportunity to change the subject, Darcy seized upon it, and was grateful when his cousin accepted the new topic to converse upon.

  Neither man heard the door that connected Darcy’s study to the library close very quietly, lost as they were in their conversation.

  Georgiana Darcy stood very still for a long moment beside the closed door before creeping quietly away on slippered feet, tears drying on her pale cheeks. She needed to return to her rooms and find the letters Darcy had sent her from Hertfordshire; she had paid little attention to them on their arrival but now they contained crucial information she must discover.

  The name of the town where she might find her beloved Wickham.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Mr Bennet! Oh, Mr Bennet!” Mrs Bennet’s shrill tones echoed through Longhorn’s walls.

  “Oh, Lord,” Mr Bennet shrank down in his chair. “Do you think if I am very quiet, she will not find me?” he asked plaintively. Elizabeth, seated opposite him with a book held in her hand, laughed and shook her head at him reprovingly.

  “I am fairly sure that she knows exactly where you are, Papa.”

  Her prediction was borne out a moment later as the study door opened to reveal Mrs Bennet, in a great state of agitation, her lace handkerchief fluttering rapidly before her face.

  “Oh, Mr Bennet, here you are!”

  “I need to find a new hiding-place, Lizzy. I believe the location of this one may have been compromised to the enemy,” Mr Bennet told his daughter, who snickered behind her hand. Her mother ignored their byplay, coming further into the room before launching into obviously prepared speech.

  “Mr Bennet, it simply will not do!”

  “What will not do, my dear?” Mr Bennet gave up on returning to his book until he had addressed whatever his wife’s grievance was this time.

  “Meryton’s grocer has an appalling dearth of spices, and it is but a few days before Christmas! At this rate, we shall not even be able to have mulled wine on Christmas Eve!”

  “Well, that is serious,” Mr Bennet straightened up in his chair, suddenly paying close attention. “What must be done to redress this disaster, Mrs Bennet? Rest assured that if it is in my power, it shall be done directly.”

  Pleased that he was taking her seriously for once, Mrs Bennet puffed her chest out. “If I can take the carriage into Hatfield, I have no doubt that I shall find what I require there.”

  Mr Bennet pretended to consider, glancing at Elizabeth with his eyes twinkling behind his glasses. “What say you, Lizzy? Can the horses be spared from the farm?”

  “The horses have been eating their heads off in the stable for the last week, as you well know, Papa,” Elizabeth reproached him gently for the tease. There was little enough for the horses to do at this time of year; those crops that required an autumn planting had long since been placed in the earth, and the spring planting was still three months away.

  “I daresay they could do with a run then, my dear,” Mr Bennet gave his wife a smile; she squealed happily and clapped her hands together. “However,” he held up a finger to stall her celebrations, “I will not have the entire family off on this expedition; my purse will not bear it. You may take no more than two of our daughters with you, and they will accept commissions for purchases from their sisters as required. Lizzy, you shall be one of those to accompany your mother; I will give you a list of books and if you would stop in at the bookseller and ask if he should happen to have any of them, I will be much obliged.”

  “But, if Lizzy is to accompany me, that leaves only one other!” Mrs Bennet cried, no doubt already having visions of the war Lydia and Kitty would wage with each other for the single remaining place. “Oh, Mr Bennet…”

  “No, my dear,” he shook his head at her firmly. “You have your way with the carriage, but I will not have a gaggle of silly girls running about Hatfield. Neither Lydia nor Kitty may go.”

  “What?” It was a shriek of horror.

  “Kitty has the cough again — I heard her last night when I was on my way to bed — and I will not have her risk her health in a chilly carriage half the day, no matter how much I am sure she would love to scour Hatfield for new ribands. Nor will I have Lydia gloat over poor Kitty if she is allowed to go while Kitty is not. Choose Jane or Mary instead; you should be grateful, Mrs Bennet! Your ears will thank me for it, I am sure!” Waving his hand at Elizabeth to leave, Mr Bennet held his book up in front of his face, a sure sign that he would not hear another word on the topic. Quietly, Elizabeth laid down her book and rose to her feet, taking her spluttering mother by the arm and leading her out.

  “Perhaps the trip would cheer Jane,” she suggested as the door closed behind them. “Shall I go and ask her?”

  “Poor Jane,” diverted by the thought of her oldest child’s broken heart, Mrs Bennet nodded. “Yes, Lizzy, go and see if she should like to come with us. I shall break the news to Kitty and Lydia…”

  “Perhaps you might ask Mrs Hill to prepare a tisane for Kitty’s cough, too?” Elizabeth suggested, but Mrs Bennet had already bustled away, and Elizabeth sighed. She would speak to Hill herself, and send down to the stable to have John harness the horses. Thank goodness the day seemed fine enough, if cold; it lacked but a couple of days to midwinter and the sun had only just risen above the frost-coated fields.

  “No, thank you, Lizzy,” Jane said quietly. She was sitting brushing her hair listlessly, gazing out of the window at the frost still riming the glass, tiny patterns of lacy white on the small panes of lead-edged glass.

  “Do you not think it might help to lift your mood, Jane?” Elizabeth pleaded. “I know it would gladden my heart to have your company!”

  A thin ghost of a smile touched Jane’s lips before she shook her head again. “I am in no mood for company, Lizzy. Take Mary in my stead, if Papa has forbid Lydia and Kitty to go; I know that Mary would welcome the opportunity to purchase some new music, and to look at books of sermons, I am sure.”

  With a sigh of resignation, Elizabeth leaned forward to kiss Jane’s pale cheek. “Is there anything I could get for you, then? Are your Christmas gifts all completed?”

  “Yes, save for the new gloves I am knitting for Papa, and I have all the wool I need. Perhaps I will finish them today.” Jane mustered up another smile for her sister, knowing that it distressed Elizabeth to see her mood so low. “Have a good time, and pray, do attempt to restrain Mama from spending too much!”

  “A vain hope!” Elizabeth smiled in return. “Well, if you are quite sure you will not come, I will ask Mary.”

  “Lizzy?” Jane said as she turned towards the door. “Try not to make it obvious that Mary is everyone’s last choice.”

  Elizabeth blinked, surprised, before returning to Jane’s side and bending to kiss her again. “Even in your own sorrow, you think of others before yourself,” she said tenderly. “If only I had your goodness, Jane! Well, I shall try. I shall stop by the confectioner’s shop in Hatfield and look for some of those sweetmeats Lydia is so fond of, and mayhap some new drawing pencils for Kitty will make her forget her cough a little while.”

  Jane’s smile grew warmer at that. “You do that, Lizzy. Here,” she opened a drawer in her dresser, withdrew her purse. “I have spent little of late; take it all and buy some small things to cheer everyone’s heart.”

  “There you go again, being too good!” Elizabeth said with a laugh, but she accepted the purse as Jane pressed it on her. “I shall, for my own purse is a little leaner than I should like, but I shall ensure that everyone knows it is from your hand that the gifts come.”

  “Say rather that they are from both of us, because you are the one who thought of it, and
you are the one who must make the effort of choosing them.” Jane waved off her protests. “Go, Lizzy! You must tell Mary to get ready.”

  Chuckling quietly, Lizzy withdrew after pressing another loving kiss to Jane’s cheek, and hastened along to Mary’s room.

  “Mary!” she burst in. “Oh please, I pray you will put on a dress and come to Hatfield with Mama and I, because otherwise I shall have to put up with Lydia chattering all the way, and I do not think I can tolerate all that time with her nonsense filling my ears.”

  Mary looked up from the book she was reading, sitting on her small stool by the window where the morning light flooded in on her. Pushing her glasses up her nose, she actually cracked a tiny smile as Elizabeth wrung her hands.

  “Lydia will fill your ears with nonsense whether I come or not, and if I do, she will only inflict her senseless chatter upon both of us.”

  “But she won’t, because Papa said that Mama might only take two of us,” Elizabeth said triumphantly, “and charged me with going to the bookshop for him. Kitty has the cough and may not go.”

  “So the choice comes down to Jane, Lydia or I,” Mary surmised.

  “I did ask Jane first, of course,” Elizabeth owned, knowing Mary would understand, “because I thought that the prospect of such an expedition might lift her spirits, but she will not come.”

  “That is a shame,” Mary’s brow furrowed. “Seeking to lift Jane’s spirits is a commendable goal indeed.”

  “Yes, but failing that, will you not save my ears instead? You know how excellent the bookseller in Hatfield is; mayhap he will have some new music sheets you have not seen.”

  Mary’s eyes lit up with a gleam of temptation. She seemed to consider the impulse sinful, though, for she immediately frowned and said “Mayhap there might be a new book of sermons, too.”

  “Indeed, and if it should happen to be beyond your purse, I could perhaps loan you a few shillings,” Elizabeth tempted. “Do say you will come, Mary!”