Mistletoe at Pemberley: A Pride & Prejudice Variation

By Rosamund Redgrave

 

Experience romance, love, and the unexpected magic of mistletoe at Pemberley this Christmas!

 

Mistletoe at Pemberley is a wholesome Christmas Regency romance between Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy. Set against the grandeur of Pemberley's festive celebrations, a series of mistletoe encounters unravels the layers of misunderstanding between them.

 

As snow blankets the estate and a romantic sleigh ride ensues, hearts thaw, and unspoken confessions linger in the air. This heartwarming Pride and Prejudice variation explores the transformative power of the holiday season, promising a tale of unexpected love, personal growth, and the timeless magic of Christmas. Will Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy find a love that defies societal expectations? Find out in this delightful holiday romance!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Redgrave Press
• Release date: Dec 12, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215328637

Book preview

Chapter 1 - Elizabeth

As the carriage bearing the Bennet sisters drew up the long drive to Pemberley, Elizabeth gazed pensively out the window, a tumult of emotions roiling within.

Look Lizzie, is that not the most splendid wreath upon the door? cried Kitty. Why, I vow I've never beheld such festive grandeur, not even at the finest estate in Hertfordshire!

It is rather remarkable, replied Elizabeth softly. Though I confess such conspicuous opulence has always struck me as faintly vulgar.

La! Vulgar? Lydia exclaimed. Why, who could find fault with such handsome trimmings? I declare, if I were mistress of Pemberley, I should adorn it thrice as lavishly every Yuletide.

Elizabeth held her tongue, unwilling to be drawn into her sister's idle speculations. Her mind lingered upon the estate's true master—would her past with Mr Darcy haunt these gilded halls? As the carriage halted before the resplendent arched doorway, she gazed up apprehensively at the magnificent edifice, all wreathed round with lush garlands.

Liveried footmen hastened forth, bowing deeply before handing down the ladies. Elizabeth grasped the proffered hand lightly, gathering her skirts about her as she alighted upon the gravel forecourt. The faintest scent of cinnamon wafted on the air—had the kitchens set pies cooling on the sill?

Her slippered feet crunched softly across the pale stones buffed to a marble sheen. What right had she to tread this illustrious threshold, having so indignantly refused its owner? She must enter meekly, without pretensions, hoping...

Good afternoon, ladies, boomed the steward, hastening forwards briskly. Welcome to Pemberley. Please allow me to escort you inside.

Kitty's gasp echoed in the cavernous vestibule as she gazed excitedly over the elegant holiday trappings. Pine boughs bedecked every marble plinth and no less than seven glistening Christmas trees lined the hallway, each festooned with ribbons and gleaming baubles of red, green, and gold.

Heavens, is Mr. Darcy not the most generous of men, to bestow such splendor upon his servants and tenants? exclaimed Mrs. Bennet happily. Look girls—a hamper for each family, and such heaps of holly and mistletoe as I've never beheld. Why, Pemberley must be the most wondrous estate in all of Derbyshire.

Elizabeth surveyed the lavish displays with a pensive air. There were towering evergreens laden with gilded walnuts and sumptuous velvet bows, fragrant garlands draped above every door, even a sugarplum pyramid rising taller than she. What profligate abundance. Surely this spoke not of generosity, but vulgar ostentation? Mr Darcy's cold arrogance seemed stamped on every ornament. Yet gazing upwards, she noted sprigs of greenery suspended over the entry in imitation of a country kissing bough. Her cheeks warmed as she idly imagined the arrogant Mr. Darcy standing beneath, waiting for... someone.

Come ladies, you must be cold and weary after your travels, said the kindly housekeeper, approaching with hands outstretched and thankfully pulling Elizabeth from her own thoughts. Let us warm you with some spiced wine.

Seated comfortably before the drawing room fire sipping rich, honeyed wine, Elizabeth felt her taut nerves uncoil slightly as her mother and sisters exclaimed delightedly over the elegant holiday tableau. Dusk was falling beyond the expansive windows and countless candles sprinkled the gardens, outlining the winter-bare throes in shimmering light. Yet Mr Darcy's essence lingered palpably for her alone. Should she encounter his stern countenance here, even with all this Yuletide warmth, her unease would return redoubled. Setting down her goblet, she rose swiftly. Pray excuse me a moment.

Elizabeth hurried from the drawing room, seeking solitude to order her tumultuous thoughts. But each festively-garbed hallway and chamber seemed colored with Mr Darcy's aura. Pausing before a salon window, she lifted the velvet drapes and gazed pensively out over the shadowed gardens. How many centuries had his family reigned here, patrons to half the county? By what conceit had she deemed herself his equal? Hot tears pricked her eyes as she recalled that awful letter, enumerating how miserably she failed to meet his exacting standards in family, connections and manners. Could she ever hope to make amends? Had not her own reprehensible pride caused them both unbearable distress? If only...

Miss Elizabeth? came a quavering voice behind her. Do you feel quite well? She turned to behold the housekeeper hovering by the door, matronly face creased in concern.

Forgive me, I was woolgathering, Elizabeth replied hastily. She must rein in her anguished thoughts and not betray any weakness. If and when she should set eyes upon Mr Darcy, she would demonstrate naught but ladylike composure. Pray pay me no mind. Let us rejoin my family. Chin raised, she moved gracefully past the older woman into the passageway.

Returning down the corridor flanked by soaring marble columns, Elizabeth schooled her features into impassivity. She must reveal naught of her inner disquiet to the assembled company. Her slippers whispered over the polished parquet floor as she neared the grand vestibule where raucous chatter rang out.

Lizzie, there you are! cried Kitty, bounding forth eagerly to grasp her sister's wrist. You shall never guess whom we have just encountered passing through the hall. Why, Mr Darcy himself! And he has invited us to partake of the servants’ ball this evening! Is that not famously good of him?

Elizabeth froze, heartbeat thudding painfully as Mr Darcy emerged from the shadows of the vestibule. How impossibly tall he seemed before the lavish garlands, fine features softened by candlelight. His piercing gaze found her instantly. Miss Elizabeth, He inclined his head in cool greeting. I trust you and your family are enjoying Pemberley's Christmas embellishments?

Why yes indeed! interjected Mrs. Bennet. We were just remarking upon your noble generosity as evidenced by these splendid decorations. Such a boon to your many happy tenants, I daresay! Do you not agree, Lizzy?

They do you credit, sir, Elizabeth said, nearly faltering as her cheeks flamed crimson. To be praising Mr Darcy's virtues to his very face! Mortified, she dropped a hasty curtsy, looking everywhere but into his hooded eyes. Overhead dangled a veritable bough of mistletoe... had that been there earlier? Studiously avoiding its implications, she stared fixedly at the nearest candle-bedecked pine. How very festive.

An awkward pause swelled. Mr Darcy cleared his throat. You must be eager to refresh yourselves before tonight's ball. He stepped back formally. If you will excuse me? With a final penetrating glance at Elizabeth, he withdrew across the hall, his greatcoat swirling behind him.

Elizabeth loosed a shaky breath she had not realized she was holding. Tonight they must actually converse. Could she withstand further intimate closeness? She still recalled with utter clarity the warmth of his hand at Rosings as he helped her into the carriage, the fleeting pressure of his arm during their dance, the beseeching fire in his gaze that final night at the Collins's. No! Such recollections only augmented her disquiet.

Come, let us ready ourselves, Lydia seized Elizabeth's arm impatiently. I vow the servants' ball shall be prodigiously merry indeed, with such mettlesome gentlemen present. Her gaze followed Mr Darcy's retreating figure with evident admiration. Elizabeth's vexation flared. That her own sister, so wholly beneath his notice, should gaze upon him so! It was insufferable.

Yet later, attired becomingly for the ball in gowns sent up from the housekeeper,