“Fine,” said Lydia with an aggrieved sigh. “We promise to follow you, but may we at least walk faster?”
Instead of replying, Elizabeth resumed walking toward Meryton, which revealed itself around the last bend in the road.
The first thing they saw upon reaching their destination were the decorations set out for Christmas Day. Small boughs of holly adorned most of the shop windows, giving the merchants’ establishments a festive air.
Branches hung from the lamp posts, halfway between each base and its light, their dark green, glossy leaves a perfect companion to the red berries sitting atop them.
The greenery brought a cheerfulness to the town’s main street that seemed to affect the pedestrians, as evidenced by the many friendly greetings extended to them. Mr. Bennet believed the Meryton Merchants erected them to encourage customers to loosen their money pouches and purchase something special for Christmas.
In his opinion, with which Elizabeth had to agree, the decorating began earlier each year. Whereas in the past, the holly appeared a day or two before the celebration, it now graced the town a week or more in advance.
She had no complaints; for her, the sight of Meryton adorned in festive finery stirred thoughts of the event they celebrated, filling her heart with gratitude for the blessed occasion. Who could find fault in that?
“Miss Bennet,” a voice called out as they exited the milliner’s, the sought-after ribbon having been located and purchased, “what a delightful surprise to see you in Meryton today.”
Elizabeth, turning in search of the speaker, saw Mr. Bingley standing in front of the confectioner, waving as if he feared they might not hear his summons. Beside him stood Mr. Darcy, looking as dour as ever; a familiar expression, based on her observations from their previous encounters.
She did not know whether to take the ever-present scowl as a judgment on Meryton or her, but ignored the provocation. Since his slight at the assembly, which Jane insisted was unintentional, she had left the matter in the past. If the man had meant no harm, surely she could find it within herself to forgive him.
“Hello,” said she, nodding in greeting to both. “What brings you to Meryton?”
“Nothing special,” replied Mr. Bingley with a nervous laugh and a glance toward his friend, who shook his head at the obvious falsehood, but offered no correction. “We had some free time, so I suggested we come browse the shops and see what they had for sale.”
“And did anything attract your interest?” asked she as the men matched their pace, walking with them along the street. Elizabeth noticed, with some amusement, how Mr. Bingley placed himself beside Jane, moving Kitty aside to accomplish his goal, although she did not show any anger at having to give up her position.
“I think Meryton looks nice all dressed up for Christmas,” said Mr. Bingley, nodding toward the colorful branches resting on most of the poles they passed.“This is much nicer than anything you might see in London right now, isn’t it, Darcy?”
“That is a hard question to answer,” said his friend. “As we are not there, I cannot guess how everything looks today.”
“Well, I know how the roads look,” said Mr. Bingley, smiling at Jane as though imparting a long-hidden secret. “And they are not like the ones in Meryton. Last year, I don’t remember seeinganything more than a sprig or two in the odd shop and nothing outside on the streets. It was almost as if nobody cared about the day or the reason for celebrating.”
“But you said they locked the city up tight,” offered Mr. Darcy, a teasing smile crossing his face. “With everything closed, there must have been some sort of celebration or commemoration.”
“I would have thought so,” replied Mr. Bingley, “but people I spoke with did not mention the day, or talk about attending a church service and sharing a special meal afterward. If I didn’t know better, I would have assumed they did not exchange gifts or do anything else in celebration. At least in Meryton, everyone extends their well-wishes and boughs of Christmas holly adorn the shops.”
Though he directed the reply to his companion, Elizabeth saw his attention had turned to Jane. Had he fallen in love with her? She could not say for sure, but from what she observed, the possibility existed.
“I am curious, Mr. Darcy,” said she with a laugh, “what are your thoughts on the matter? Do you and your sister enjoy the season together, or do you occupy yourself with estate matters and leave her to fend for herself?”
He chuckled in response, but Elizabeth saw the guilt in his eyes. “We could not spend last Christmas with each other,” said he, although the confession seemed painful.
“I cannot imagine spending the day without my family,” said she. “After our worship, we gather in the sitting-room and listen to Papa read from the Gospel of Luke.”
“I assume you mean the second chapter,” said Mr. Darcy, “and the beautiful story of the birth of Christ?”
“Yes,” answered Elizabeth with a chuckle, which brought a look of censure from the gentleman.
“Do you always laugh while your father reads from the Bible?” asked he, the accusation clear.
“No!” she hastened to answer. “Your comment recalled his reading the passage last year. For as long as I can remember, we have had a tradition of reciting the scriptural account along with him. It is a fond memory of how we value each other’s company, and I would not change it for the world.”
Mr. Darcy nodded in agreement, although grief clouded his eyes. “Traditions are essential, especially on occasions like this. I wish my parents were here to celebrate with us. With only Georgiana and me, we have had to share the joy of the season without our family, as we are on our own.”
Sadness stirred in Elizabeth’s bosom at Mr. Darcy’s recounting of his Christmas observation. Tears gathered in her eyes, and despair tugged at her heart until she saw a peaceful smile settle on his countenance, its appearance chasing the grief from his face.
“To fight the loneliness,” he continued, “we make it a habit of inviting Pemberley’s tenant farmers to share our holiday meal. It is a lot of work for the cook and the maids, but when I ask their opinion on the matter, they tell me how much joy it brings them.”
“Are you sure they are giving an honest answer?” asked Elizabeth, thinking of the Longbourn servants’ anticipation of spending a day with their loved ones. Mr. Bennet did not insist on any of them sacrificing their time tending to the Bennet family’s needs. For this one day, he insisted his children do as much for themselves as they could.
