Absurd Anachronisms ~ by Jen
(Author's warning: this story is extremely absurd. If you are offended by Christmas spoofs, please discontinue reading and pick up St. Luke's gospel, second chapter, and read the proper Christmas story.)
The snow fell softly around the carriage as the team of perfectly matched Belgian ponies pulled the Darcys toward Pemberley. They were returning for Christmas after a heavenly honeymoon in Nottinghamshire.
“Oh, my love, look! The trees look so picturesque with a light blanket of snow.”
Mr. Darcy smiled at his new bride. “I’ve always enjoyed the first snow of the year. It makes me feel like preparing for Christmas!”
Elizabeth sighed contentedly, her eyes sparkling, and took his hand. She squeezed it lovingly while continuing to gaze at the property they still drove through. As she remembered that now, she was to be mistress of all this glorious property, she grew a little giddy.
Whilst she was still in her reverie, Darcy began to hum a tune. Elizabeth had never heard the tune before but it sounded delightful, very festive. Then the carriage was at the entrance, and servants were bustling them out of the vehicle and into the house.
Georgiana stood in the entrance hall, waiting for them excitedly. “Brother! Sister! Oh, it is so good to see you!” She moved forward to clasp hands with her brother. “Did you have a good trip?”
“Yes, we did, dear sister. As you see, we are well, and I am the happiest man on earth.”
“Good! And I have chosen the Christmas tree.”
Mr. Darcy gasped in delight at the tall evergreen tree standing in the middle of the room. Elizabeth stared at it, wondering why they had brought a tree into their house. She noted that it was held up by a sort of brace on the bottom. So they chopped down a tree, without the roots, and brought it inside merely for the season? she wondered to herself. Singular.
“Fitz, I need help finding the glass decorations,” Georgiana pleaded.
“Of course,” Mr. Darcy assured her. “I believe they’re in the wardrobe in the storage room. I’ll go look.”
While he rushed out of the room, Georgiana smiled shyly at Elizabeth. “Do you like the tree I have chosen, Miss… Elizabeth? Or should I call you Mrs. Darcy?”
Elizabeth smiled. “Elizabeth will be fine, Georgiana.”
“Please, call me Georgie.”
Elizabeth’s eyebrows raised but she smiled and conceded.
“Look, cook has made a whole bowl of popcorn for us to string to decorate the tree! Won’t that be fun?”
Warily surveying the tree, Elizabeth wondered why they would decorate a tree with popcorn. “You know, your brother and I were noticing on the way in how beautiful Pemberley’s trees look with the newly fallen snow. Do you want the tree to look like it has snow on it?”
“I believe that is the general idea, Miss… I mean, Elizabeth.”
Mrs. Reynolds came in, bringing two boxes wrapped in the most brightly-colored paper Elizabeth had ever seen.
“Mrs. Darcy! Welcome to Pemberley! It’s so good to finally have you here. I took the liberty of writing out Christmas cards to send out. All you have to do is sign them.” She put the presents under the tree and picked up a tray with a stack of folded paper and envelopes.
Elizabeth momentarily wondered about the envelopes, but just then Mr. Darcy trotted back in, carrying in a large barrel. “Look! Georgie! Here is the Father Christmas you made out of macaroni when you were five years old!” He set the barrel down and picked up an ornament by its string. It was a little Santa head, with the hat painted red, all made from little shells of pasta glued together.
As the siblings and Mrs. Reynolds decorated the tree, Elizabeth watched them, completely bewildered. They had some interesting Christmas customs here! At home, there was little more than a church service, plum pudding, and mistletoe hung from a doorway. Yes, there were many songs sung, and evergreen boughs on the mantelpiece. Kitty and Lydia had made decorations of silver and gold paper chains to hang in the doorways, and they regularly had a roaring Christmas fire. She had not known the northern counties celebrated the holiday so differently.
Mr. Darcy noticed her standing there and urged her, “Don’t be such a Scrooge, Elizabeth! Come help us decorate.”
She wondered if a scrooge were a northern insult, but she took its meaning to be a person who did not help decorate, and picked up the popcorn to string it.
The Darcys and several servants began singing a song, the same song Elizabeth had heard Mr. Darcy humming in the carriage:
We three kings of Orient are
Bearing gifts, we traverse afar
Field and fountain, moor and mountain
Following yonder star
Oh, star of wonder, star of light
Star with royal beauty bright
Westward leading, still proceeding
Guide us to they perfect light.
She wondered why they were singing a song about the three kings when it was not even Christmas day yet.
Just then, out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, that Darcy sprang from his decorating to see what was the matter. A few footmen followed him, but Georgie and Mrs. Reynolds kept singing.
Chestnuts roasting on an open fire,
Jack Frost nipping at your nose.
Yuletide carols being sung by a choir,
And folks dressed up like Eskimos,
Everybody knows a turkey and some mistletoe
Help to make the season bright;
Tiny tots with their eyes all aglow
Will find it hard to sleep tonight.
Elizabeth grew more and more bewildered. Eskimos? She wondered. How do they all know these songs, and I’ve never heard one of them? Perhaps they want the chestnuts from the tree that’s on the green by the smithy.
Mrs. Reynolds picked up one of the presents and shook it a little. “Mrs. Darcy, the master had me get this gift for you. Are you curious as to what it is?”
Elizabeth took it and examined it. Such colorful paper! She looked at the seams where it was held together. What are these little strips? she wondered. They are clear… she picked at it a little, and discovered that the clear strips were sticky and peeled away from the package. With a cry of fright, she dropped the box, hearing the tinkling of shattering glass from inside the package.
“My dear! The gift is fragile!” Mrs. Reynolds shrieked, pronouncing the final word fra-jeel-ay.
Just then, Mr. Darcy came back in, dragging a dark-skinned man by the shirt collar. They were followed in by the footmen that had assisted Mr. Darcy in apprehending the criminal and a little boy, hobbling in on crutches.
“All right, all right, what’s the meaning of this?” Darcy shouted at the man, giving him a push backward. “What are you doing out on my lawn?”
“You and your Christian traditions… I spit on your capitalistic Western ways!” the dark-skinned man spat on their marble floor.
“Sir, if you please, I found these,” the little crippled boy said. He pulled out of his muffler several weapons of mass destruction.
“What? WMD’s?” Darcy said. “So you were planning on invading Jolly Old England?”
“That’s right, and I would have gotten away with it too, if it hadn’t been for that meddling little crippled stablehand.”
Darcy patted the boy on the head. “Good work, Tiny Tim,” he affirmed. The boy grinned broadly. Darcy turned back to the man. “What is your name?”
The man bowed his head in shame. “Mohummed bin Laden.”
Mrs. Reynolds bustled the group inside. “Come in, come in! Let’s get this horrible criminal into the dungeon, then you all come warm up by the fire and I’ll fix you some lovely warm wassail. It’s a good thing you boys caught him! Otherwise, not only would he have blown us all to smithereens, he would have had children, and grandchildren, and perhaps one day one of his descendants would have been the leader of a worldwide terrorist group!”
They all agreed, and presently the men had Mr. bin Laden stowed away in the dungeon. Georgie and Elizabeth finished decorating the tree. There was a knock at the door, and Mrs. Reynolds ushered in several well-dressed, attractive carolers. The carolers were named Sarah, Sofie, Rita, Cindy, Alyson, Alicia, Jen, Mortie, Joanna, and Kiamn.
The Carolers shouted, “Merry Christmas, Elizabeth Darcy!” They threw back their heads and sang,
Hark! The herald angels sing,
“Glory to the newborn King;
Peace on earth, and mercy mild,
God and sinners reconciled!”
Joyful, all ye nations rise,
Join the triumph of the skies;
With th’angelic host proclaim,
“Christ is born in Bethlehem!”
Hark! the herald angels sing,
“Glory to the newborn King!”
Merry Christmas from the zaniest Bennet girl!
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