Here is the final chapter of our little tale. As always, if you have missed the previous chapters, you can find the story here.

I hope you enjoy it. Merry Christmas, everyone!

***

Disaster struck on Christmas Eve. Until the moment when it happened, Darcy had been considering what he might do to claim the fair Miss Elizabeth Bennet for himself and foil the odious toad of her cousin, several delightful possibilities flitting through his mind, while ignoring Miss Bingley’s attempts to gain his attention. That all came to a crashing halt when the sitting-room door opened.

“Lady Catherine!” exclaimed Darcy, rising to his feet as his irascible aunt led her daughter into the room. “What do you do here?”

A squeal overthrew his question, as Georgiana flew to greet Anne amid a flurry of welcoming laughter. Lady Catherine turned and regarded Georgiana indulgently, reminding Darcy that his aunt had always had a soft place in her heart for her sister’s daughter, rendering her almost agreeable in her company. Then she turned a glare back on Darcy.

“Good day, Darcy, how do you do? I might have expected a like form of welcome, but it appears your surprise has overcome your good sense.”

“Aunt Catherine,” said Fitzwilliam smoothly before Darcy could muster a response. “It is a surprise to see you here.”

“And I apologize for our unseemly intrusion,” said Lady Catherine, still eyeing Darcy, her look one Darcy could not quite decipher. “But Anne and Georgiana were exchanging letters, and she convinced me that joining you all for Christmas would be just the thing.”

“Well, Bingley?” asked Fitzwilliam, turning a grin on the genial gentleman. “What say you?”

“Lady Catherine,” said Bingley, bowing to Darcy’s aunt, reminding Darcy belatedly that Bingley had made her acquaintance before. “Welcome to Netherfield.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bingley,” said Lady Catherine. “I apologize for arriving without prior warning.”

“Nonsense,” was Bingley’s firm reply. “It would vastly please my sister and me if you would consent to stay the season.”

“We should like nothing better,” said Lady Catherine.

Being acquainted with the lady but not her daughter, Bingley asked Georgiana to perform the introductions, which she did with alacrity. Then, when they were all acquainted, Miss Bingley stepped into the breach.

“How lovely it is to have you for Christmas! I have long wanted to make your acquaintance, Lady Catherine, for I have heard so much of you.”

Lady Catherine’s gimlet gaze turned on Miss Bingley, as Darcy might have predicted in advance. The lady had heard enough of Miss Bingley to suspect her of wishing for Darcy’s particular attentions, and while she likely knew Darcy well enough to suppose he would not fall for her brand of allurements, she would not take kindly to Miss Bingley’s overt attempts to draw his attention.

“Let me show you to your rooms,” continued Miss Bingley, and with a hint of self-congratulation added: “I always keep several rooms ready for unexpected visitors.”

As Miss Bingley led the ladies, including Georgiana and Mrs. Hurst, from the room, chattering all the way, Darcy watched her with a critical eye. When they were gone, he turned to Bingley.

“You may wish to have a word with your sister, Bingley. Lady Catherine has long wanted me to marry her daughter—your sister’s . . . manifest ambitions will do her no favors with my aunt.”

Bingley responded with a bout of hilarity, by his side, Hurst exclaiming: “Then by all means, let us allow her to step in it! Caroline would benefit from being taken down a peg or two!”

“I shall speak to her, though I am less than confident she will heed me.”

With a nod, Darcy sat in the sofa, resting his head in one hand. “Aunt Catherine’s presence is the last thing I need right now. How I shall persuade Miss Elizabeth in my favor with her watching everything and determined to provoke me to propose to Anne I cannot say.”

Darcy directed a weary gaze at his friend and offered a wan smile. “I know you could not do anything other than inviting her, but I wish you had sent her on her way.”

“Oh, I suspect Aunt Catherine’s presence will be the crowning glory of the farce playing out before our eyes!” Fitzwilliam, who had always been far too glib for Darcy’s likely, grinned and winked at him. “You never know what might happen, Darcy. Perhaps instead you should anticipate the follies to come and concentrate on besting the idiot Collins.”

“There is no difficulty with that,” said Darcy with a derisive snort. “Miss Elizabeth confirmed she will never be prevailed upon to accept Collins. I have every confidence she is softening toward me.”

“Then do not borrow trouble! Lady Catherine can bluster and moan, but there is nothing she can do to force your hand.”

With a nod, Darcy decided to end the conversation. Fitzwilliam was in one of his moods where everything must be a reason to laugh, and Bingley was no better. Even Hurst, as boring a man as Darcy had ever met, was getting in on the jesting. There was little to do but turn his thoughts on how he might keep his aunt at bay while trying to thwart Mrs. Bennet and Collins, while wooing Miss Elizabeth at the same time.

Except the expected difficulties from his aunt did not materialize. Bingley had a word with his sister, and Darcy, who was watching as they spoke, had little notion Miss Bingley was accepting his warning with anything resembling seriousness. As she was a little more circumspect than usual and provoked fewer scowls from the lady than Darcy might have supposed, all the while remaining oblivious to them, he decided to leave well enough alone.

The true mystery was Lady Catherine. While the lady had taken every opportunity to push him together with her daughter, on this occasion she made no attempt to do so, though she remained watchful. Furthermore, Darcy noted Lady Catherine was quieter than was her wont. Whereas she was always eager to dominate any conversation, she was oddly silent, often seeming to wish to say something yet remaining silent. Anne, he noted, was a little more lively than usual, but she often was in Georgiana’s company, and he did not think much of it. On the morrow, the Bennets were to join them at Netherfield for the Christmas festivities, and Darcy was to see her at Christmas services that evening. How it might all turn out he could not say, but he could only hope for the best.

 

***

 

“Lady Catherine!” exclaimed Mr. Collins the moment the Longbourn party entered Netherfield’s sitting-room on Christmas Day. “If you will allow me, might I present Miss Elizabeth, the most excellent of my cousin’s daughters to you?”

“If you have forgotten,” said Lady Catherine, a hint of impatience staining her tone, “I made Miss Elizabeth’s acquaintance yesterday at the church service.”

“So you did!” exclaimed the ridiculous rector. “Yet, I cannot but imagine you wish to make her deeper acquaintance, given the closer connection you will soon share.”

Elizabeth wished she had something hard and heavy she could use to break over his thick head, if only to silence his continual blathering. She noted that several others, including her aunt and uncle, Mr. and Miss Darcy, and even her father, regarded him with equal exasperation. Lady Catherine, however, merely regarded him with an unreadable expression.

“Perhaps you should allow Miss Elizabeth to enjoy the festivities, Mr. Collins. It is Christmas, a time for merry making.”

Before Mr. Collins could muster a response, Mr. Darcy stepped forward and bowed to Elizabeth. “Indeed, it is. My sister and cousin are eager for your company, Miss Elizabeth. Will you not join them?”

Relieved of the necessity of abusing Mr. Collins for his stupidity yet again, Elizabeth allowed him to take her hand and lead her away. Mr. Collins, for his part, gaped at her before moving to follow. To Elizabeth’s great relief, her aunt and uncle intercepted him, and Colonel Fitzwilliam stood nearby, offering his assistance.

“Tell me,” said Elizabeth to Georgiana and Miss de Bourgh when Darcy led her to them, “did you truly express a wish for my company, or is Mr. Darcy stretching the truth?”

Georgiana shared a look with her cousin, and they burst out laughing. “I always want your company, Elizabeth,” said Georgiana shyly.

“My cousin has informed me of your difficulties with my mother’s parson,” added Miss de Bourgh. “We shall do our part to help you avoid him.”

“Thank you,” said Elizabeth, feeling every hint of the gratitude she expressed.

So began the merriments. Miss Bingley, Elizabeth noted, possessed a flair for hosting, as she had proved at the ball, though her attempts were marred at times by her overt attempts to gain Mr. Darcy’s attentions. The gentleman responded with civility but no more as was his custom, but that did not seem to divert her. Elizabeth was witness more than once to disapproving glares she provoked from Lady Catherine, a fact that seemed to amuse Miss de Bourgh. Elizabeth was uncertain what that could mean, unless Lady Catherine was of a level of society and consciousness concerning the immovability of rank that she could not tolerate the thought of her nephew marrying a woman descended from trade. Then again, she had no proof of the lady’s sentiments, as Lady Catherine remained silent.

“What an excellent opportunity this is!” exclaimed Mr. Collins that afternoon, the exchange making matters a little clearer for Elizabeth. “As your intended is here today, Miss de Bourgh, I cannot imagine that this is anything but a most auspicious occasion for your cousin to formalize your engagement!”

Elizabeth wondered what the man was about, even as she considered Mr. Darcy’s recent interest in her. Before that thought could do more than cross her mind, Miss de Bourgh interrupted any further consideration.

“You are mistaken, Mr. Collins. Darcy and I are not engaged, and we have never been intended for each other.”

Dismay fell over the parson’s homely countenance. “B-but Miss de Bourgh! I have it on the highest authority, that of your lady mother, that it is only a matter of time until Mr. Darcy makes you the happiest of women!”

“If you were to canvass my mother’s opinion now,” said Miss de Bourgh with a wry grin at Elizabeth, “you would receive a different answer.”

With that cryptic response she fell silent. It was not until a little later that Elizabeth learned more of the subject.

“Do not listen to Mr. Collins,” said Georgiana, stepping close to Elizabeth to speak softly. “William and Anne are not engaged.”

Elizabeth regarded her, puzzled. “Why did Mr. Collins believe they were?”

“Because it has been the fondest wish of my aunt for many years. But neither Anne nor William wishes for a closer connection, for each considers the other a beloved cousin and no more.”

A part of Elizabeth thought to wonder why it would concern at all, even as her heart called her a liar in the silence of her mind. As Kitty and Lydia scurried toward her to entreat her to join one of the games, Elizabeth could think no more on the subject.

 

***

 

Matters continued in this fashion throughout the afternoon. The company was boisterous, indulging in the typical Christmas games mixed with lively conversation, and Mr. Collins reading the Christmas story from the New Testament in his usually droning voice. The sight of Lady Catherine, her face covered in flour as she retrieved the bullet that had dropped when she made her cut seemed to bring her nephews to hilarity. Everyone else had the sense to avoid laughing at the grand matron, and Mr. Collins went on a long monologue of her superior bullet-retrieval skills.

Throughout that afternoon, Elizabeth watched as others interfered with Mr. Collins’s ability to stalk her. Even that was not enough, as she had to dodge him more than once. The man was so oblivious and seemed even more determined to catch her, she worried that he might accidentally compromise her in his zeal. Even worse was the thought that he might do so of malign intention to end her protests against his attention.

When evening came, the housekeeper entered the sitting-room to announce dinner, and Elizabeth noted with bemusement how Mr. Darcy moved at once to secure her hand as a partner for dinner.

“Mr. Darcy,” came the nasally voice of Mr. Collins at once, “while I understand your preference for my cousin’s company, I must insist you allow her betrothed the privilege of escorting her to dinner.”

“Of course, she must dine with Mr. Collins!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet, a hint of manic displeasure accompanying her nervous hand gestures.

“Mr. Collins!” snapped Elizabeth, unwilling to allow either of them to say another word. “If you refer to me as your betrothed again, you shall feel the full fury of my displeasure. Not only am I not your betrothed, I shall never be!”

So saying, she accepted Mr. Darcy’s hand, pushing him to lead them from the room, which he did with a certain sense of bemusement. When they entered the dining-room, Elizabeth was certain Mr. Collins meant to ensure he was seated on her other side from Mr. Darcy, but Mr. Darcy foiled his attempts by seating her next to his aunt, who sat next to Mr. Bingley as the highest ranking visitor in the room. Mr. Collins, appearing quite put out, sat next to Mr. Darcy and attempted to commandeer all his attention, preventing him from paying any heed to Elizabeth. This arrangement, and Jane’s position on Mr. Bingley’s other side, rendered Elizabeth susceptible to Lady Catherine’s inquisition.

“Our positions are fortunate, Miss Elizabeth,” said Lady Catherine during the soup course, “for I would like to know more of you.”

Elizabeth regarded her ladyship, wondering if she meant to be severe. The story of Lady Catherine’s wish to have Mr. Darcy as a son-in-law moved through her mind, and she wondered if the lady had noted Mr. Darcy’s attention and meant to be severe with her. Polite behavior, however, dictated she answer the lady with civility.

“I am happy to tell you anything you wish to know.”

The lady returned a faint smile. “There is no need to treat my interest as an examination, Miss Elizabeth.”

Her ladyship’s jest was nothing less than unexpected. “Yes, that is for the best. Otherwise, we risk a superficial acquaintance, for it is in the exchange of ideas and opinions that a true acquaintance may be forged.”

“An intelligent girl, it seems,” said Lady Catherine. “You are perhaps a little forthright, but that is not necessarily a drawback.”

What followed was nothing less than an interrogation, regardless of Lady Catherine’s assertions. The lady inquired minutely into her education, accomplishments, opinions about various subjects, all with the probing of a master interrogator. Whenever she could, Elizabeth responded with questions of her own, which the lady replied without hesitation, though invariably turning the conversation back to Elizabeth. What she discovered about her Elizabeth could not say, though she did not think the lady was displeased with her.

Through the questions, Mr. Collins watched and preened, apparently interpreting Lady Catherine’s actions as evidence she approved of his choice. Elizabeth could not dispute his opinion, not knowing enough of her ladyship to decide. The few times he inserted his opinion were unwanted, for Lady Catherine’s glares always silence him at once, leading Elizabeth wonder if her purpose was not different from what Mr. Collins believed. Mr. Darcy, for his part, watched and listened carefully, but rarely interjected an opinion, seeming content to allow his aunt to say what she would. The conversation remained pleasant, regardless of Lady Catherine’s insistence on learning more of her, leaving Elizabeth well pleased.

 

***

 

After dinner, when the party returned to the sitting-room eschewing the separation of the sexes in light of the occasion, Darcy noted that the insistent parson grew ever more persistent. Miss Elizabeth could not go anywhere or speak to anyone without the man inserting himself, speaking over her, intruding upon her interactions, rendering her unable to enjoy the evening. Mrs. Bennet, it was equally obvious, was all but cheering him on, intent upon the match as she was. Miss Elizabeth’s statements had been of such force that Darcy had no concern she would capitulate. But the possibility of compromise, accidental or otherwise, appeared to be growing by the moment.

“Perhaps you should give Miss Elizabeth some room, Collins,” growled Darcy to the man on one occasion where he attempted to interfere with her conversation with Georgiana. “She does not need you looking over her shoulder all evening.”

Mr. Collins, in a move Darcy would not have expected from the sycophantic fool, sniffed at Darcy with disdain. “Being an unengaged man, you cannot understand, Mr. Darcy. And do not think I have not noted your attempts to come between us. Why Lady Catherine has not taken you in hand I cannot say, but if you persist you will provoke her to reprimand you.”

“Do you think I will allow you to harm Miss Elizabeth?” hissed Darcy, looming over the insignificant imbecile.

“If you think I mean her harm you are sadly mistaken.” Again, Mr. Collins eyed him with disdain. “She is mine and I shall not give way. This unseemly behavior of hers will stop, for I shall not have a wife who flouts my authority in such a way.”

To Darcy it sounded suspiciously like a man who meant to mistreat his wife. At that moment, before he could say something caustic and squash the bug before him, Mr. Bennet interjected. To Darcy he nodded, though he regarded the parson with murder in his eyes.

“If you will excuse me, Mr. Darcy, I believe I must have a word with my cousin.”

Darcy bowed, not trusting himself to speak, moving away, though staying within clear sight of the two men. In this, he found himself close to his cousin.

“It appears Mr. Bennet has finally decided to take a hand in this farce.”

“And it is doing little of good,” replied Darcy from between clenched teeth. “Look at him! He appears like a child denied a sweet!”

“It may be necessary to thrash him before the end of the evening.”

“I would not ruin Bingley’s party,” said Darcy. “But I shall do whatever it takes to protect Miss Elizabeth.”

“In that venture you will have the support of every man in the company.”

Fitzwilliam’s assertion was true, Darcy noted idly as he continued to watch Mr. Bennet berate his cousin, noting Collins’s petulant denials in response. Most of those present directed surreptitious glances at the parson periodically, and almost as one, their looks were not amused. The sole exception, Miss Bingley, looked on Miss Elizabeth with glee barely concealed, even as her questioning glances at Darcy appeared to be trying to make him out. Even Hurst, a man usual immersed in his own concerns, appeared ready to rain fire and brimstone down on the obnoxious parson.

Mr. Bennet, his point made, directed one final glare at Mr. Collins and then stalked away, leaving the parson fuming. For a long moment, he regarded his cousin, impaling his back with his eyes. Then he turned on his heel and stalked off in a manner so surprising that Darcy almost did not react.

Moving to where Miss Elizabeth was standing speaking to Georgiana and Anne, he grasped her arm and pulled her a few feet to the side where a ball of mistletoe hung. The plant had not been used much that evening, as only Bingley appeared eager to claim kisses and only from Miss Bennet, and while Miss Bingley had situated herself there several times with a coy look of invitation to Darcy, he had taken great pleasure in ignoring her. Miss Elizabeth, he had noted, had avoided it with prejudice.

“Now, Cousin,” said Collins, the light of fanaticism shining in his eyes, even as Darcy began to move toward them, “I shall claim my kiss and you shall be mine forever!”

It all seemed to happen in slow motion. Miss Elizabeth, though taken by surprise, began to pull away even as Mr. Collins’s head descended, her movement appearing slow and lethargic. What was not slow was the way her hand came up to impact with his cheek, forcing his head aside, missing his target altogether. As he stumbled, it was a simple matter for Darcy to insert himself where the parson had been standing only a moment before.

“I believe, Miss Elizabeth,” said Darcy, his lips already moving toward hers, “that you would much rather kiss me.”

What remained ever after clear in Darcy’s mind was Miss Elizabeth’s gasp of surprise, the softness of her lips, and the wish to sweep her into his arms and never let go. On the periphery of his awareness, he could hear the rest of the party, some responding with laughter, others with shock, though one loud and offended gasp could be heard above the rest. Then Darcy drew away from her and looked down into her well-loved eyes, heavy with passion.

“That was unexpected,” murmured she.

“I suppose it was,” replied Darcy, amused at this self-possessed woman bereft of a response and how it had been his actions that had rendered her thus. “If you would have preferred a kiss from Mr. Collins, I suppose I can clear the way for him to take my place.”

Eyes twinkling with amusement, Miss Elizabeth retorted: “I should think kissing a goat would be preferable to kissing Mr. Collins.”

As if speaking his name summoned him, Mr. Collins returned with a vengeance, sputtering and moaning his offense. Darcy turned and noted him righting himself, all the room watching the spectacle, and when he tried to insinuate himself between Darcy and Miss Elizabeth, Darcy moved forward a little, putting his form between the dainty woman at his side and the much larger bulk of Mr. Collins. The parson did not appreciate this maneuver.

“Mr. Darcy!” exclaimed he, finally finding his voice. “This is highly improper! I would not have thought a man of your standing would engage in such malfeasance.”

“What malfeasance do you call it?” asked Darcy, catching his cousin’s eye and grinning. “It is not improper at all to kiss a woman under the mistletoe.”

The parson sputtered again, pointing an accusing finger at him. “For shame, sir! Have I not informed you that she is my betrothed? Do you presume to steal kisses from every woman already claimed by a man?”

“For the last time, Mr. Collins,” snapped Miss Elizabeth, pushing forward to stand beside him, “I am not engaged to you, nor shall I ever be! I should prefer to marry one of my father’s sheep than tie myself to such a specimen as you for the rest of my life.”

Mr. Collins’s mien darkened. “This does not become you, Cousin. Your mother—”

“I care not what my mother said! She has no power to compel me, and my father has informed you of the futility of your suit!”

Drawing himself up in his self-importance, Mr. Collins opened his mouth to speak. Whatever he meant to say was forever lost, for another entered the argument.

“Oh, let it go, Mr. Collins.”

The parson’s eyes widened, and he looked to Lady Catherine who had spoken, with incomprehension. As that was the man’s usual state, Darcy could not say it altered him to any great extent.

“B-but L-Lady Catherine!”

“That is enough, Mr. Collins,” snapped the lady. She was the only person who could induce him to desist, for he did not protest, even as he looked at her through petulant eyes. “How you came to pursue this woman with the fervor you did I cannot say, but it was ill-conceived, indeed. Miss Elizabeth is no more suited to be your wife than I am. I knew the moment I made her acquaintance that Darcy found her irresistible.”

Another gasp sounded from the direction of Miss Bingley, but Darcy had no attention to spare for the woman. Collins appeared dumbfounded, a sentiment with which Darcy found himself curiously sympathetic.

“You knew of my interest?” demanded he. “And you did not immediately accost me about it?”

“Yes, well,” said Lady Catherine, shooting a glance at Anne before meeting Darcy’s eyes with her usual forthrightness. “Anne convinced me that it was fruitless to hope for a marriage between you. She is, after all, approaching five and twenty and yet you have not proposed to her.”

This was beyond his understanding of his aunt, grateful though he was to Anne. When Darcy regarded his cousin, she grinned at him and gave him a playful little wave, an action her mother did not miss if her annoyed scowl was any indication. Darcy was grateful, but now was not the time to ask for the particulars. There was still a parson with whom to dispense.

“There you have it, Collins,” said Darcy, again focusing his displeasure on the disruption to the harmony of the evening. “There is no future between you and Miss Elizabeth. I suggest you desist before Mr. Bennet throws you from his home and severs all connection between you, regardless of the day. You would not wish to travel to your home on St. Stephen’s Day.”

Flummoxed did not even begin to describe Mr. Collins, such that he did not even make any attempt to respond. Satisfied there would be no other outbursts, Darcy took Miss Elizabeth’s hand and placed it on his arm, leading her away.

 

***

 

Where Mr. Darcy led her Elizabeth could not say, but she did not care. Away from Mr. Collins was good enough for her. Elizabeth hoped fervently she never exchanged two words with the man again.

It felt strangely right, her hand on this man’s arm, him leading her as if she were his most cherished possession. Elizabeth had never considered herself a possession of anyone, but if any man had the right to claim her affections, she now realized with a start it was him. It was curious in the extreme, for she had been reliably informed that she detested the very sight of him only a few weeks before!

Mr. Darcy had grown in her estimation—there was no escaping that fact. How much he had grown remained to be seen, but it was clear that her former opinion had vanished like so much smoke in the wind. Elizabeth examined her heart and could not say that she loved him, but the fluttering in her midsection informed her she was not as far from that lofty state as she might have supposed.

“I apologize, Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy when he stopped, Elizabeth noting it was in a corner of the room a little away from the rest of the party. “It was not my intention to behave with such cavalier disregard for your person.”

“Given it saved me from the ignominy of being kissed by a toad, I suppose I can forgive you.”

As Elizabeth had intended, Mr. Darcy grinned at her jest. “Then I am pleased to have provided the service to you.”

Elizabeth nodded and became serious. “What does this all mean, Mr. Darcy?”

“It means that I love you and wish to marry you.”

Gazing at him with incredulity, Elizabeth blurted: “You wish to marry me?”

“I do,” said Mr. Darcy. The tenderness of his eyes resting on her face made her cheeks flush with pleasure. “It is, I understand, abrupt of me to have stated it in so many words. But it is the truth.”

“This is all so sudden,” said Elizabeth, hearing a plaintive note in her own voice.

“Yes, I suppose it is.” Mr. Darcy regarded her for a long moment and seemed to come to some conclusion. “There is no need to hurry, Miss Elizabeth. I am pleased to allow you all the time you require to become comfortable with our changed circumstances.”

Elizabeth allowed a pleased smile and nodded. It seemed that was all they needed to say, for they returned to the rest of the company. For the rest of the evening, Mr. Darcy stayed close by, and while Elizabeth was certain it was to thwart any other attempts to make her uncomfortable by the odious parson, she knew the greater reason was because there was nowhere else he wished to be.

Mr. Collins, she noted, appeared defeated, though his countenance suggested incomprehension rather than disappointment or anger. He said little thereafter, appearing to mutter to himself or shake his head with great frequency. No one else appeared eager to speak to him, leaving him to his own company. The other member of the party rendered unhappy was Miss Bingley. Mrs. Hurst sat nearby speaking comfort to her, but Miss Bingley appeared to hear nothing of it. Rather, she sat pouting, altering between looking at Elizabeth with petulance, or trying to avoid the sight of her.

The congratulations of the company they offered without reserve, and for a time Elizabeth basked in the warmth of their approbation. Where this business with Mr. Darcy might lead, she could not say at that moment. But she began to understand that the man by her side would be an excellent husband, a man particularly suited to her. That taught her to hope as she might never have thought she would that he would prove successful in his suit. It was a pleasant outcome to contemplate.