Pemberley Celebrations - the First Year

  Pemberley

  Celebrations -

  The First Year

  by Kara Louise

  © 2002 by Kara Louise

  2011 by Kara Louise

  Cover Photography by Laura Ketchum and Kara Louise

  Cover Design by Kara Louise

  Published by Heartworks Publication

  Printed in the United States of America

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication my be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means -- for example, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording -- without the prior written permission of the publisher. An exception would be in brief quotations in printed reviews.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Kara Louise

  Pemberley Celebrations - The First Year

  A Note from the author -

  Many thanks to all those who helped and encouraged me with this story. Thanks to Mary Anne Hinz and Gayle Mills for your wonderful editing suggestions, and to the others who added an extra set of eyes to the story.

  I also wish to thank Jane Austen. When she wrote her novel, Pride and Prejudice, little did she know how deeply it would touch people two centuries later. Miss Austen is behind the inspiration behind these beloved characters and what may have happened in the first year following the end of the story she penned.

  Thank you, Miss Austen!

  I hope you enjoy Pemberley Celebrations.

  Kara Louise

  Table of Contents

  Decorating Pemberley for Christmas

  A Special Christmas Dinner

  A Christmas Surprise

  A Family Christmas

  New Year’s Eve

  Valentine’s Day

  Easter

  May Day

  A Midsummer’s Day

  Michaelmas

  All Hallows’ Eve

  A Birthday Blessing

  A First Anniversary

  Decorating Pemberley for Christmas

  Elizabeth Darcy stepped out the door that led to the inner courtyard at Pemberley. The air was brisk enough that she felt it being drawn into her lungs with each breath she took. The sky was so blue that it rivalled the colour of the brightest sapphire.

  It was the second week of December, and winter was beginning to settle in over the area. The trees had long since lost their leaves and the lawns had traded in their verdant hue for a subdued russet. Those flowers that had commanded attention in the autumn had ceased to bloom, falling victim to the cold days and even colder nights. One could easily wonder whether these dormant plants had any confident expectation that spring would return once again and urge them faithfully back to life.

  The wind that whipped from the north chilled the air considerably. The courtyard, surrounded on three sides by stately walls, was afforded some protection from the blustery weather. Being outdoors gave Elizabeth true pleasure, even when it was dreadfully cold. She loved to breathe in the fresh air and it afforded her the opportunity to give her limbs a bit of much appreciated exercise.

  Elizabeth wore a slightly worn pelisse, her faithful companion throughout the cold days of winters for the past several years. As she pulled it tightly about her and gazed up to the skies, she had every hope that snow would descend upon Pemberley this winter. She would love to see Pemberley and its grounds, now her home, coated in a blanket of white. As beautiful as Pemberley was, she pondered how much more beautiful it would be glistening in a wintry dusting.

  Despite her longing for snow, it was days like this that were Elizabeth's favourite. In addition to the beauty of the day, the anticipation of Christmas just around the corner continually tugged at her thoughts. She walked down the steps and rubbed her gloved hands together vigorously. Casting her eyes toward the stone archway at the far side of the courtyard, she noticed a line of dark clouds on the horizon. She could not be certain, but she felt like those clouds might bring the snowflakes she so longed to see fall.

  She began to read a book she had brought outside with her. She took a few turns about the courtyard before walking over to a bench nestled in the northwest corner. She often came out here to read, and since her husband of only a few short weeks, Fitzwilliam Darcy, and his sister, Georgiana, were from home, she looked forward to an opportunity for some undisturbed reading. Darcy had set out with his steward the day before to attend to some business that would take two or three days. Georgiana was in London.

  Elizabeth thought back to their first weeks together as man and wife. It had been idyllic; they had spent a few days at an inn nestled in the woods overlooking a small lake, and then the remainder of the week at his town home in London. The thought of those first few days elicited a smile, followed quickly by a slight blush of her cheeks. She let out a contented sigh as she considered how happy she was. Fitzwilliam was everything she could have wished for in a husband. Marriage to him was beyond any previous comprehension!

  Her face slowly lost its dreamy expression and took on a more puzzled appearance as she pondered the past few days when her husband had seemed somewhat preoccupied. It was nothing she could put her finger on, and she struggled to determine whether he was anxious about something in particular or merely reluctant to leave her. She raised a single brow in conjecture. The reason for his odd behaviour eluded her. He had reassured her that nothing was amiss when she had inquired, but she was not altogether certain he had been completely forthright.

  She turned her attention back to her book. As she read, an occasional current of wind cascaded over her, having surreptitiously slipped into the protected courtyard over the top of the massive edifice, or sneaking through the wide entryway that led to the front. Each time the wind beat at her, she pulled her pelisse tighter, not wishing the unwelcome blast to dissuade her from her reading.

  Elizabeth settled herself more comfortably on the bench, bringing her legs up onto it and tucking them underneath her to keep them a little warmer. She brought her hand up to her neck and pulled the collar of her pelisse snugly under her chin. Once contentedly warm, she found herself easily drawn to the words of the book and into the mystery she now read. She had been reading about a half hour when the sound of a horse caught her attention.

  She stood up and slowly walked toward the entry way, stepping out from beneath the archway. She saw one of the estate horses pulling a cart that carried a large evergreen tree. It was so large that it hung over the top and front. Its wide branches were secured so they would not fall over the sides. She closed her book, keeping a finger tucked inside the pages to mark her place, and hurried over to satisfy her curiosity.

  As she stepped away from the shelter of the courtyard, she was startled by a gust of wind that brutally tackled her senses. She struggled against the force of it, wrapping her arms about her and putting her head down as she approached.

  Mr. Avery, the head gardener, and his son, Daniel, were using all of their strength to pull the tree from the cart. Elizabeth winced as she saw the older man struggle with his footing. Once he – and the tree – were secure, she breathed a sigh of relief and rushed over, curiosity propelling her.

  “What is this tree for?”

  “It is Pemberley’s Christmas tree, ma'am. Every year in December we search the grounds for the best tree to cut down and bring into the ballroom to set up for Christmas. Mrs. Reynolds and the house staff then decorate it with all sorts of shiny baubles and trinkets.”

  Elizabeth shook her head in wonder. She could not believe that a tree that would likely reach almost up to the ceiling would be brought into the house. She did not understand just what significance this tree could have, but she was eager to find out. She gleef
ully followed them into the house where Mrs. Reynolds, the housekeeper, greeted them.

  “Oh, you have done well!” Mrs. Reynolds said as she clasped her hands together. “Bring it in! Bring it in! Is it not just splendid, Mrs. Darcy?”

  “Yes it is! But I fear I do not understand for what purpose you are bringing a tree indoors. I have not heard of such a thing!”

  “Oh, I would be happy to explain, Mrs. Darcy. The late Mr. Darcy discovered on his many tours abroad that in Germany they often decorate an evergreen tree for Christmas.” Pointing to the tree, she added, “The Christmas tree. They bring one indoors and decorate it with many little ornamental objects or candles. It is a symbol of everlasting life and reflects much of the Christmas story. Mr. Darcy liked the tradition so well, he decided to bring it to Pemberley.”

  “That sounds delightful! May I help decorate it?”

  “Most certainly, Mrs. Darcy. Follow me.” The older woman turned and walked with determined strides that were propelled as much by her head nodding forward as by each step she was taking.

  Elizabeth followed her into the ballroom, where she was surprised to see several boxes lining the floor. Seeing one open, she walked over to it and peered in. Her eyes widened as she looked upon gold and silver trinkets, baubles, and beads, small porcelain and glass Christmas figurines, and assorted coloured bulbs. She leaned over and carefully picked one up, turning it over in her hand, in awe of what she saw. She had never seen so many beautiful things!

  She watched, captivated, as the two men struggled to carry in the tree. As they swung it around, they narrowly missed an ornate vase resting upon a table. Elizabeth rushed over to move it in order to prevent any real mishap. They finally positioned the tree in an upright position and secured it in the special wooden base they had previously made. Elizabeth dropped her jaw as she took in the height of it, but she allowed a soft gasp to escape as they released the twine that held its branches in. The tree unfolded and commanded all the presence in the room.

  Elizabeth brought her hands together in delight. “It is beautiful!”

  “Thank you, ma'am,” Mr. Avery said. “We always try to find the most perfect tree. We think this is one of the finest we have ever had.”

  Mrs. Reynolds looked over at her and added, “It is perfect for your first Christmas as Mistress of Pemberley, Mrs. Darcy. And just wait until you see it decorated!”

  Mrs. Reynolds began picking up the ornaments and putting them on the tree. Elizabeth looked at the ornament she held in her hand before finally hanging it on one of the branches. She then carefully examined each subsequent ornament she picked up. She found a glass star and turned it over in her hands, thinking it looked almost like a diamond.

  “That goes on the top, dear. When the men bring in the ladder, we will have them put it up there. They will also get the ornaments on the uppermost part of the tree for us.”

  Elizabeth suddenly sighed, her shoulders rising up and down with her breath. “What is it, Mrs. Darcy?”

  “I was just thinking that this tree is so beautiful; it is too bad that it is here in the ballroom where we will not have the occasion to enjoy it as often. How nice it would be to have one in the sitting room, where we spend most of our time. Of course, it would have to be a smaller one.”

  Mrs. Reynolds gave her a reflective look. “It just might be the right time to put one back in the east wing sitting room again.”

  “Again?”

  “Yes, dear. The elder Mr. Darcy and his wife always had a large tree in here and put a smaller tree in the sitting room where they spent most of their evenings together.” She paused, and looked as if she were remembering Christmases years ago. “When Mrs. Darcy died, Mr. Darcy never again put up that tree in the sitting room. Christmas was a very difficult holiday to celebrate. Did you know that Mrs. Darcy died on Christmas Day?”

  Elizabeth's heart gripped inside her. “No, I was not aware of that! Fitzwilliam never mentioned that to me.”

  “The elder Mr. Darcy could not bring himself to put up a tree in the sitting room again. In fact, for a few years, we did not have a tree at all. Finally he agreed to allow the staff to put up the tree in here; however, he rarely came in himself to enjoy it. I think he allowed it mainly for the children. Miss Darcy was very young when her mother passed, and consequently she was not as adversely affected by the tragedy.” Mrs. Reynolds let out a heartfelt sigh. “But both the late Mr. Darcy and his son seemed gravely distraught by it for years. Christmas has never been the same.”

  Elizabeth narrowed her eyes and bit her lip. “Mrs. Reynolds, I noticed a change in my husband a few days before he left. He seemed remote and withdrawn, at least more so than normal. Could this possibly be the reason?”

  Mrs. Reynolds drew in a slow breath, slowly shaking her head. “This time of year has always been difficult for him. Every year they would all leave early in December, which is when we set about getting the house decorated. Some people believe it is bad luck to decorate the house before Christmas Eve, but that is nothing but nonsense!” She wagged her finger back and forth. “We chose to do it early in the month, when they were away, because it just made it easier for both him and his father. If you do not mind my saying so, I think with you here now, it might be time to change some of the ways we do things at Christmas.”

  As they finished putting the ornaments on the tree as high as they could reach, Elizabeth could not help but think of how difficult it would have been for a young boy to lose his mother, and a husband to lose his wife, on Christmas Day. She wondered just how much her husband was affected by it. Was Christmas still a holiday that carried an association of grief and loss when it should be a holiday steeped with all the hope, love, and peace that one could imagine? Would he be able to celebrate the gift God had given so many years ago?

  Elizabeth watched as the men came in and hung the remaining decorations on the upper part of the tree, finishing it off with the star on the top branch. She and Mrs. Reynolds stood back and marvelled at the beauty.

  “I have never seen anything so magnificent in all my life!” She looked at Mr. Avery and asked, “Do you think you could find a smaller tree to put up in the sitting room for us to enjoy?”

  “Certainly, Mrs. Darcy. There are a good many trees out there. We shall go out tomorrow and find one for you.”

  “I thank you.”

  Mrs. Reynolds took her arm. “Come with me, Mrs. Darcy. There is something else I would like to show you.”

  Elizabeth’s excitement matched Mrs. Reynolds’ as they briskly walked down a long hallway to the back of the house. They stepped into one of the rooms and the housekeeper opened a great wooden door. The space was filled with boxes, all neatly marked. She pulled one out – it looked like it may have been a hat box – upon which was written Christmas Ornaments – Small Tree.

  “What is this?” asked Elizabeth.

  “This is a box of ornaments specifically for the smaller tree. Look here!” She brought the box over to a table and removed the lid. Inside were more ornaments, although smaller and less ornate than the ones in the ballroom. In fact, as Elizabeth leaned in to inspect them more closely, she realized they looked handmade.

  She picked one up and saw that it was an embroidered angel in a tiny frame. A ribbon was attached at the top from which to hang it. There were other embroidered items, some paper decorations, and some crudely made ornaments that looked like they could have been crafted by a child from items found around the grounds of Pemberley.

  “Those are ornaments the young Mr. Darcy and his mother made. Every year he made an ornament with her for the small tree in the sitting room.”

  Elizabeth tilted her head at the housekeeper as she told her this. “How long has it been since these have been brought out?”

  “Since Mrs. Darcy died.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “This year we must hang them on the tree in the sitting room. We must!”

  *~*~*

  That night, in the solitude of her room, Eli
zabeth thought about all she had been told that day, particularly the death of Mrs. Darcy on Christmas Day. She was rather surprised that her husband had never spoken of it. He often talked about his mother, the love she and his father had felt for each other, and of course special memories he had of her. But he had never mentioned her death or any details of it.

  As she lay in bed, she absently let her hand run over the smooth sheets where her husband normally slept. This was their first time apart since their marriage, and he had been gone two days. How she missed him! She knew there would be days – and nights – when he would be gone from her side, but she had not realized how much she would feel his absence!

  She had wondered if his withdrawn behaviour was due to his anticipating their time apart, but she now pondered whether it may also have been due to the arrival of the Christmas season and the associations it held for him. How she wished he were here. Now she could only wait for him to return. She hoped it would be on the morrow.

  The next morning, eager for the arrival of the smaller tree, Elizabeth sat in the east sitting room writing letters and going over a few things with Mrs. Reynolds. She still had so much to learn in her role as Mistress of Pemberley. She was pleased that the housekeeper seemed to enjoy her company and patiently passed on to her all she knew from her thirty years in that position. It was also very apparent that the woman held the late Mrs. Darcy in great esteem, and Elizabeth hoped that in time, Mrs. Reynolds would regard her in that same way.

  The morning passed quickly, and after enjoying a simple repast, Elizabeth returned to the sitting room and noticed that the tree still had not been brought in. She went to the box of ornaments and pulled out each one, admiring the ones that Mrs. Darcy created and smiling at the ones her husband had likely made when he was a boy.