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Mr. and Mrs. John Dashwood were hosting a Christmas dinner at Norland, lavish and extravagant; so many guests that they would fill all of the spare bedrooms, so many chances to show off this beautiful house of theirs. Mrs. Ferrars was the only family joining them, with none of the other Dashwoods making the journey and Fanny’s brothers busy with their wives.
This, privately, was one thing making Fanny particularly cheerful-- the happy thought that she would not be seeing Lucy or Elinor.
There had been much to do to prepare for the event, but Mrs. Fifett had done all of it, leaving Fanny free to anticipate the evening without feeling overwhelmed. How necessary it was to have a competent housekeeper, especially when one was busy with one’s toilette. Fanny’s only job was to make herself a stunning and impressive hostess.
She had Norland; she had a devoted husband; she had an adorable little boy; she was about to entertain many very important people; she was in particularly good looks tonight, in her mauve silk. Life was satisfying indeed, as long as she didn’t think about the younger Mrs. Ferrarses.
She smiled brightly at her reflection, adjusted a wayward curl on her forehead, and prepared to make her grand entrance.
***
Charlotte Palmer bounced Little Tom on her lap, grabbing his hands every time he tried to shove his new blocks into his mouth-- a not infrequent occurrence, but she did not want to take them from him. He was so very sweet, with his gingery curls and those bright brown eyes. How good it would be to have another child, a brother or sister for Little Tom to share his toys with, more little ones to spoil with presents.
She laughed as she moved his hands from his mouth once more, kissing his chubby cheeks and tickling his round belly. Perhaps she would have another by next year-- a perfect little Christmas present.
***
Mrs. Jennings had been invited to spend the holiday at Barton Park, but she had chosen to stay at Cleveland instead. She had always been closer to Charlotte than Mary, and Mary already had plenty of guests. Mrs. Jennings would have enjoyed the company - so many people to talk to, so much gossip to hear, so many jokes to tell - but she would not add to Mary’s work this year. A nice, cheerful Christmas with the Palmers would be cozy and comfortable; she was more than satisfied with that.
Besides, the Westons would be there too, and Mrs. Jennings would have plenty of girls to tease with questions about beaus. Maybe she would suggest to Charlotte that she invite that pleasant Mr. Birks to stay, as well. The eldest Miss Weston was of a good, ripe, marriageable age, and Mrs. Jennings would love the opportunity to make a match.
***
Sophia Willoughby sipped her wine and smiled. John was away - she could not remember where he said he’d be, and she didn’t really care anyway - and so she would spend the end of the year without him, her books and her music and her friends her only company.
That suited her perfectly well.
She would invite Henrietta and Patience to stay with her; she missed the long, gossipy chats, the old, intimate closeness she had enjoyed with them before she was married. They would spend hours just talking when they got here, simply enjoying each other’s company. She could even chaperone them about to some of the assemblies, finding them handsome young men to flirt with.
Sophia was going to have a happy Christmas. Husbands were a disappointment, but friends were a constant solace.
***
Lucy Ferrars was not amused by her lack of an invitation to Norland. It was an affront to her and it was an insult to Robert; Fanny Dashwood was a petty, vindictive little shrew. They were sisters, whether Fanny liked it or not, and Lucy certainly should not be put on the same level as Elinor.
Lucy knew why she had been snubbed, of course. Fanny was jealous that Mrs. Ferrars was beginning to grow attached to her; Lucy was becoming quite a favorite; Lucy was ensuring a future inheritance, and Fanny would much rather see her brothers cut out from their mother’s fortune.
Well, Fanny could exclude her from Christmas celebrations, but she could not alter the facts of life and she could not make this season a less triumphant one for Lucy, for when next Lucy saw her mother-in-law, she would have some news to tell her. In fact, it was a good thing, that they would not meet again until the new year. It gave some of this early discomfort a chance to wear off; there would be time for Lucy to feel less wretched and more radiant.
Just imagine how pleased Mrs. Ferrars would be, when Lucy told her that she was expecting that great lady’s next grandchild.
***
Lady Middleton wished she hadn’t invited so many guests to Barton Park this year. She wished she had urged her husband to show a little restraint, suggested that their celebration be a quieter one than usual.
But her husband enjoyed a crowd and when the moment arose for her request to be made, she hadn’t been able to bear the thought of disappointing him. He would have done what she asked, of course, but he would have been dispirited about it. She could put up with the guests, for his sake.
That didn’t mean that she didn’t need to escape from them every once in a while, and she stole away to the nursery after breakfast. Annamaria would be too old to sit on her lap soon, she thought; she would scurry away like the older boys, not wanting to be held by her mother. She still liked it now, though, and Lady Middleton cuddled her close. And there was the newest baby, of course; he squirmed in the nurse’s arms, wanting to be held by his mother too.
Lady Middleton was not often seen as capable or warm, but she was both when she was with her children. She shifted her daughter over so that Annamaria could share her lap with her youngest brother. How perfectly happy it made one, thought Lady Middleton, just to sit and hug one’s children.
***
Nancy Steele had hoped she would be spending Christmas anywhere other than Longstaple, but the only invitation she’d received had been from her uncle Pratt. She tried to shrug off the painful idea that Lucy no longer wanted very much to do with her. It wasn’t personal rejection, really; Lucy was merely busier now. And hadn’t Nancy always liked her time with her uncle?
She would enjoy herself at Longstaple, she decided. She was not like Lucy, always dissatisfied, always striving for something more. Nancy had always been rather content with her circumstances, happy with the people around her, finding joy in the little things.
And besides, she might possibly meet a nice young man at her uncle’s. Perhaps she would get a beau for Christmas.
***
How long was one considered a new bride? Marianne had only been married for a little over four months. Surely she was still able to retain the title.
She walked through the passages of Delaford, making sure that everything was ready for her first Christmas as its mistress. She was not worried about impressing anyone - their guests were her mother and Margaret and Elinor and Edward, and none of them would be critical or anything other than easy to please - but she wanted things to be perfect, There was something so exquisitely lovely about hosting one’s family, about making things special for the people one cared about.
She wanted everything to be perfect for the colonel, too. Her husband had been unhappy for so long; it was about time that he had a joyful Christmas season.
She sighed, feeling cheerful and content and utterly fortunate. To be a new bride at Christmas, surrounded by the people she loved best-- was there anything more delightful?
***
They were having a most agreeable time at Delaford, and Marianne was a gracious and hospitable hostess, but Mrs. Dashwood couldn’t help but feel a bit in the way. Perhaps this Christmas, their first as a married couple, should have been the Brandons’ to enjoy together. Perhaps it was awkward, having one’s mother around in this early stage of wedded bliss. Perhaps Mrs. Dashwood and Margaret should have squeezed in at the parsonage.
Mrs. Dashwood was thrilled, of course, to see Marianne happy. Her daughter had stepped marvelously into the role of Mrs. Brandon, suddenly a mature and elegant young woman, older than her years; the colonel was a new man, seeming so much younger and lighthearted. The transformation each had made was extraordinary; they had done each other so much good. Christmas was a time for family, of course, but Mrs. Dashwood thought the Brandons might have preferred to spend it alone, as enthralled with each other as they were.
It was lucky that there was plenty of room at Delaford; she and Margaret could sneak off and allow the couple some time to themselves. And, she had to admit, with her two eldest daughters married and settled, she was clinging a little tighter to her youngest these days.
Margaret was growing up quickly-- too quickly, Mrs. Dashwood thought. She was already growing more and more obsessed with her looks, with parties, with dancing; it would not be long before she took an active interest in young men. Before Mrs. Dashwood knew it, Margaret might be married too, and Mrs. Dashwood would be by herself, no daughter for a constant companion, alone with her work and her thoughts.
But these were not things she should dwell on, she scolded herself, and certainly not at Christmas. Her daughters were all happy and Margaret was still with her, reading aloud in Delaford’s library, glad to be at her mother’s side. If the last several years had taught her anything, it was that life was unpredictable-- full of unexpected sorrows, yes, but moments of felicity, too. One must not fret about the future, but live instead purely in the moment, grateful for every blessing that one was given.
***
Dinner at Delaford had been splendid, full of good food and good company, but Elinor was secretly glad to return home to the parsonage. She was delighted that Marianne was married, the mistress of her own estate, given everything she could ask for, but Elinor had always preferred a simple, quiet existence. She was much more suited for her life at the parsonage with Edward and their daughter, and with their simple pleasures and easy contentment. She had had her fill of excitement and turmoil, and now wished for very little more than what she had.
She looked in on little Ellie, sleeping peacefully, still too young to know or care that it was Christmas. Perhaps the new year would bring another young Ferrars. Elinor hoped it would. For now, though, she was happy with their little family of three, looking forward to Ellie’s first words and first steps, excited to see how she would grow. There had been a time, not so very long ago, when Elinor had thought Edward lost to her forever, and now here they were, happily married with a child of their own.
Edward joined her at the nursery door, placing an arm around her waist and pulling her closer. Elinor smiled up at him, warmth and love in her eyes. She had been given life’s greatest gifts; she would never stop being grateful.