Christmas at Longbourn Read online

  Christmas at Longbourn

  Pride & Prejudice Continues Book 4

  By

  KAREN AMINADRA

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  Published in 2017 by Flourish Publishing

  Copyright © 2017 Karen Aminadra.

  This is a work of fiction. All names and characters in this book are fictitious or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental and is not intended by the author.

  The author has asserted their moral right under the

  Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

  All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

  Cover Designer – Moon Rose Covers

  First Edition – October 2017

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

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  Thanks

  To my wonderful editor, Brenda and proof-reader, Beverly.

  To Miranda Stork at Moon Rose Covers for her continued excellence and unending patience as a cover artist.

  To all my readers without whom there would be no novel in which to thank them!

  Contents

  Thanks

  Contents

  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

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  Longbourn, Meryton, Hertfordshire

  21st November 1815

  The date of the Meryton Christmas Assembly was set back again, and looked as though it would not happen at all. It snowed much earlier and harder than usual that year. The whole of England was having the longest and hardest of winters in living memory, some said. Only two out of the four members of the family still at Longbourn minded in the least.

  Mary, the eldest daughter remaining at home, and Mr Bennet found very little difficulty in finding occupation for themselves or in suggesting some for Mrs Bennet and the youngest unmarried daughter, Kitty. Their entreaties, more often than not, fell on deaf ears.

  “My dear Mr Bennet, when will this tedious snow end?” Mrs Bennet cried with ear-splitting volume as she poked the fire in the grate with such vigour that she almost put it out.

  “My dear, if I were privy to such information, I would be a very rich man indeed!” he replied, without looking up from his newspaper.

  His wife huffed, pouted, and whined some more. “Oh, but we cannot venture out of doors for fear of falling and breaking our necks or catching our death of cold.”

  Mr Bennet ignored her and continued to read his newspaper.

  “Must we always rely upon Mr Bingley’s benevolence to send their carriage for us should we wish to visit our dear Jane and Lizzy?”

  “I’m afraid so,” came the short reply.

  “Ooh! You do try my patience!” she griped as she returned to her chair with a flourish of her skirts. “Why, can we not use our horse, Nelly, and take our own carriage to see the grandchildren?” She smiled in such an encouraging manner designed to add weight to her petition.

  Mary watched impassively and knew her father remained unmoved. He folded his newspaper—she recognised he was certain of constant interruption if he persisted in attempting to read in the drawing room—and prepared to depart for the private and quiet seclusion of his book room. “Because, my dear, Nelly cannot be spared from her duties on the farms, as you are well aware.” He rose and silently closed the door behind him as he left.

  Mary buried her face in her book to hide the smirk that lifted the corners of her mouth.

  Mrs Bennet continued to moan despite his absence. “Duties? Duties, indeed!” She folded her arms and pouted. “The ground is as hard as granite and there are no fields to plough at this time of the year. What other duties could Nelly possibly have on our farms? And what are they compared with taking us to Netherfield Park to see our new-born grandsons?”

  Nelly was the family’s horse, and they shared her use with the tenant farmers on Mr Bennet’s land. This vexed Mrs Bennet greatly, who did not see the enormous expense or waste in keeping a horse purely to pull a carriage that they used perhaps only once per week. She was bored stuck indoors now that winter had come early. She longed to visit with the eldest two of their five daughters, who both had recently been delivered of sons, as she mentioned umpteen times an hour—daily. Jane’s son, Charles, was born in the summer. He was growing to be a fine lad. Lizzy’s son, William, was born two months later, also at Netherfield Park.

  “And goodness only knows if the Christmas ball will actually take place,” Kitty bemoaned, joining her voice to her mother’s.

  “Hmm… Yes, it is so unfair.” Mrs Bennet sighed. Together they sat, looked out of the window at the falling snow, and decried winter in its entirety.

  “We could walk,” Mary sighed as she flicked the page in her book of poems. “That is how the newspaper is fetched each and every morning.”

  “Walk?” Mrs Bennet fairly shrieked at the suggestion. Her face grew red with ire. “What a notion!” She pulled her shawl tighter about her shoulders. “Have you any idea how difficult it would be to trudge through all that snow?” She stabbed a finger towards the window. “We should freeze to death before we even got past the church, to be sure.”

  “Perhaps Mary has a point, Mama. A servant could be sent to Netherfield. They could ask Mr Bingley to send a carriage for us.” Kitty perked up as though it were her own suggestion.

  “Now, that is a thought!” Mrs Bennet half rose in her seat and then sank back down again, her face showing her thoughts took a dire turn. “But what if the servant were to die in the snow before reaching Netherfield? We would not discover them until spring!” She shuddered at the thought and pulled her shawl tighter still. “No, we had better wait at home and hope that Mr Bingley or Mr Darcy have the good sense to send a carriage for us,” cheering at the thought.

  “It shall happen eventually,” Mary interjected in a bored monotone, “for Christmastide is upon us and we shall all meet as a family at Netherfield Park, shall we not?”

  The smile on Mrs Benne
t’s face fell as she rounded on Mary. “Christmastide? That is a full month away, child! Are you dim-witted? We cannot sit and wait here for an entire month!”

  Mary closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I am merely pointing out that it will not be forever, Mama.” She bit her tongue, tired and irritated at always being the one to be looked down upon. It was unfair, and she hoped for a reason to leave the house and venture into Meryton town—if only, she thought.

  “Merely pointing out?” Mrs Bennet exploded. “No one wants your opinions, Mary, I am sure.”

  Mary watched as her mother turned in her seat by the fireside to talk with Kitty. She swallowed down what she would like to say. Just for once she would like to be listened to and taken seriously. She was tired of being thought of as the odd one out.

  Chapter Two

  “Never mind Mary, Mama. You know she always has to give her opinion and no one wants to hear it.” Kitty spoke loudly enough for Mary to hear. Kitty was out of sorts and did not mind whom she hurt. She had been this way ever since the telegram arrived announcing the death of her brother-in-law, Lieutenant Wickham. But it was not Wickham’s death which had upset her.

  Lydia, her sister and Lieutenant Wickham’s wife, had been devastated. She collapsed the moment she received the news and was carried into the house by none other than Sir Percival—the man Kitty had hoped to marry. At the time, Kitty was concerned for her younger sister’s well-being. As the days began to slip into weeks, she saw clearly how the land lay. It was evident to her there was more than a passing fondness between Lydia and Sir Percival. How she had not noticed it before was beyond her. Right before her very eyes she could see the growing affection. She knew then that her marriage to Sir Percival would never happen. Had it all been one-sided, no more than a girlish fancy? More than once since then she had asked herself if he had ever been in love with her. She did not know the answer to her own question. Lydia had been cruel once she was recovered from the shock of her husband’s death and dismissed Kitty in such an offhanded way that Kitty knew forgiveness would be a long time coming, if at all. Lydia laughed off all Kitty’s fears when confronted. Kitty, nevertheless, knew deep down inside her heart that Sir Percival and Lydia were more than friends and had been for some time. When, only a few short weeks later, Lydia and Sir Percival announced their intention to marry, Kitty was not surprised, albeit deeply injured. Lydia had always been an outrageous flirt. It all made sense to her now, and she knew that Lydia cared not a jot about propriety, her reputation, or her sister’s feelings.

  “It is you I feel sorry for, Kitty,” Mrs Bennet lamented, dabbing at non-existent tears in the corners of her eyes. “Who knows if you shall ever marry now!”

  Kitty wished her mother would not keep on so. She hurt enough as it was.

  “But you know how it often is when someone is infirm. One naturally feels affection for them.”

  Kitty closed her eyes and wished she was elsewhere. Lydia had not been infirm; she was bereaved. And Kitty knew full well that there had been more going on than her sister would admit to. She glanced over at Mary and saw only pity in her expression—this incensed her more. How dare Miss Goody Two-shoes feel sorry for her?

  “I suppose we should not regret that Sir Percival’s affections transferred so easily to Lydia. She has a child after all, and is therefore very much more in need of a husband than you are.” Mrs Bennet picked at the hem of her shawl, carefully avoiding Kitty’s gaze.

  Kitty could have screamed at her mother’s words. Lydia was very much more in need of a husband than I? She has had a husband once. Now she has a second and he was meant to be mine! She raged inside at the injustice of it all, and her face grew redder by the minute. “Lydia has gone against convention and has married before her period of mourning is up.” She could not avoid the bite in her words.

  “Well, what can you expect?” Mrs Bennet shrugged. “She was a widow with a young son. She has done the best thing for herself and Georgie. I am proud of her.”

  That was the last straw for Kitty’s emotions, and her vision blurred through a veil of tears. “You condone her behaviour, Mama?” Kitty asked the words catching in her throat, her face a mask of incredulity, her lips trembling.

  “Of course I do! I advised her to go ahead with the marriage.” Mrs Bennet tutted with impatience at Kitty as though her advice to Lydia was perfectly logical and the right course of action. “Sir Percival clearly didn’t want you anymore once dear Lydia was free. That was obvious.” Her face showed disgust at Kitty. “So why shouldn’t she have him?” She pursed her lips and stared into the fire—discussion over.

  “Such behaviour does give rise to gossip, Mama,” Mary joined in. “And Kitty, I am certain, has been injured in all of this.”

  Kitty snapped her head round and stared at her sister, her mouth agape. This was the first time any one of her family had shown they understood that she was deeply hurt.

  “Oh, what is that?” Mrs Bennet waved her hand in dismissal without even turning to look at Mary. “Kitty will get over it.” Finding a new target, their mother snapped over her shoulder, “We haven’t ever got to be concerned about you, have we, Mary? We’ve always known you’ll never marry, what with your face always stuck in your books. No one will ever want you!”

  Kitty furrowed her brow, her own dislike of Mary softening at the insult hurled at her, and came to her sister’s defence. “That is unfair and unkind, Mama. Mary and I both deserve to be married. Lydia cannot have all the men that come into this house.”

  “All the men?” Mrs Bennet screeched, turned, and looked at her daughter as though she were a stranger.

  Kitty winced, knowing she should not have said anything.

  “How could you be so cruel about poor, dear Lydia?” She dabbed at her eyes with the corner of her shawl and looked at Kitty expecting to hear an apology.

  Kitty was resolute and refused to give it. “Mary, I would like to take that walk, if you are willing, just to the church and back, if we are able.” She ignored her mother’s whinnying.

  Mary smiled, closed her book, took off her reading glasses, and rose to join Kitty. Together the sisters left their mother alone in the drawing room. They could hear her mumbling to herself as they made their way up the stairs and to their rooms to ready themselves for the inclement weather outside.

  Chapter Three

  Mary loved the feel of the snow beneath her boots. The sound of it crunching as she and Kitty walked towards the church lifted her spirits a little. It only came up to their ankles and did not reach the tops of their winter boots at all. She thanked Heaven for small mercies. Where the carriages on sleigh-tracks had made their way along the road, they had cut through the snow and compacted it, making their way that little bit easier going.

  “I am sorry, Kitty,” Mary murmured when they had walked in silence for a while. Siblings they were, but close they were not, and never had been. Kitty had always been closer to Lydia, the youngest of them all. However, after hearing her sister spoken to so cruelly by their mother, she felt sympathy with her through this one thing they truly had in common—they disappointed their mother.

  “About what?” Kitty did not look up. Her voice was small and cracked a little with emotion.

  Mary stared at the snow before them and watched as each foot made and sank into its own little hole. “About what you’ve been through and how you must still feel.” Kitty, Mary knew, was watching her as she spoke. She did not turn and make eye contact, but continued to express herself. “I cannot personally know how it feels, having never experienced all that you have, but I can imagine how I would feel in your stead.”

  Finally, that produced a reaction from Kitty. She stopped in mid-step and turned towards Mary. “You have imagined how I feel?” Her face was screwed up in disbelief.

  Mary nodded, wiping the falling snow off her face with her gloved hand. “I have.”

  Kitty blinked a few times as she tried to accept her sister’s words, and Mary watched the s
nowflakes settle on her sister’s rosy cheeks. “I would not have thought that about you.”

  “I am not surprised,” Mary shrugged. “When Lydia was here, you two were always together—no matter what you were doing. You were inseparable. I was the one on the outside—one of the sisters but never a part of anything.”

  Kitty frowned. “Lydia is not here anymore, and I doubt I shall ever be such close friends with her again.” She clenched her jaw and breathed deeply through her nose before continuing. “She broke my confidence. She knew how I felt about Sir Percival and has married him anyway.”

  Mary nodded, her own heart heavy for her sibling. “It is a grievous betrayal, and one would never think to find such a thing amongst one’s own sisters.”

  “True.” Mary watched Kitty try to smile but the corners of her mouth would not obey.

  Conscious of her sister’s growing discomfort, Mary turned back in the direction they were heading on their walk. “Shall we continue?” She held out her arm for Kitty to take.

  “Mary.”

  Mary turned and looked at Kitty, seeing her eyes brimming with tears.

  “I have wronged you, Mary,” Kitty confessed. “I have more than once thought you foolish and boring. It was I who was the fool. I never took the time before to know you. I was too busy being flighty and gossiping with Lydia.” She took hold of the proffered arm, and together the sisters continued on their way.