Conundrums & Coincidences (Mr Darcy’s Dilemmas)

Chapter 6

6

A BATTLE OF WILLS

“ A fter my long-winded preamble about your benefactress,” said Mr Monroe, “it is time to discuss the tournament. All the information I am about to impart has been printed on broadsheets, which I shall hand out in a moment.” He held up a sheaf of printed papers. “Afterwards, I shall answer your questions with, I hope, insight and meticulousness.”

Almost three-quarters of an hour later, after the attorney’s speech and numerous clarifications and the distribution of printed matter, the five beneficiaries glanced at one another in shared puzzlement. In Darcy’s opinion, puzzlement was an apropos description, considering it was to be not a chess match, as he had hoped, but a tournament of wit and whimsy.

Seated next to Darcy, Miss Kensett leant close and spoke in a complaining tone of voice. “I am at sixes and sevens. Please make this intelligible to me, sir.”

Darcy shifted away from her as subtly as possible so as not to offend, and he tapped his sheet of instructions. “Everything is printed here.”

“Yes, but if you will read it to me or explain it in your own words rather than an attorney’s, I surely shall understand it better.” She fluttered long, dark eyelashes at him and pursed pouty lips.

Darcy looked away and, in doing so, caught a pair of fine eyes observing the two of them. At once inattentive to Miss Kensett, he responded, “Yes, of course, Miss Bennet.” Whipping his head back to the lady beside him, he felt the tips of his ears grow red hot. “Forgive me. I have made an egregious blunder. I meant to say Miss Kensett, not…” Dash it! He remembered the day’s date and prayed he was not doomed to make endless mistakes.

The lady’s expression made it clear she was not appeased by his apology, but before Darcy could make amends by clearly communicating the tournament’s details to Miss Kensett, Mr Monroe again demanded their attention.

“I have in here”—he shook an upside-down grey felt hat—“five folded pieces of paper. Each of you, alphabetically by surname, will select one. Do not show whatever is printed on your page to anyone other than me.” He walked over to Elizabeth and presented the hat.

With dainty fingers she withdrew and opened a piece of foolscap. After briefly studying its content, she refolded the paper and placed it upon her lap with the other document. Elizabeth’s features, customarily so expressive, revealed nothing.

It was his turn next, and Darcy dithered between reading his chosen paper straight away or doing so after being shown to his room. Deciding on the latter due to Miss Kensett’s proximity, he further folded the page and placed it inside a breast pocket .

Mr Fordham chose his, but finishing his Madeira seemed more important than anything.

Mr Hadley’s leg bounced while he awaited his turn. After perusing the paper he had plucked out, he glanced across at Elizabeth, whereupon his face reddened.

“Well! This is terribly unfair,” cried Miss Kensett. “I really have no choice, do I? I must take the only remaining paper. If I do not like it, may I exchange mine for someone else’s?”

“You most certainly may not.” The attorney passed the hat to her.

“How unjust it is that the others have a surname closer to the beginning of the alphabet than mine.” Rather sulkily, she grabbed the last piece of paper and unfolded it. From the corner of his eye, Darcy noticed her moving it back and forth in front of her face. Has she—in addition to vacancy of mind and incapacity for thinking—poor eyesight?

Meanwhile, the housekeeper had discreetly drawn close to Mr Monroe and whispered a few words before going to stand by the parlour door.

“May I have your attention again, everyone,” said the host. “Mr Darcy, whenever you are ready, Mrs Vincent will show you to your bedchamber. Miss Bennet has settled in already, and, because they have stayed here before, the others have been assigned their customary rooms. Also, Mrs Vincent has reminded me that, for those who desire it, a midday repast soon will be placed on the sideboard here in the parlour. Dinner will be served at six o’clock in the formal dining room, so please return here a quarter of an hour prior. Other than that, the five of you are at liberty to enjoy the manor and its demesne and, hopefully, move forwards in the tournament. Remember, whenever you believe you have achieved success with a problem, bring it to me for verification. At that point, you may proceed with your next one. As you set off to achieve your goal, I wish you all the best of luck.” Mr Monroe collected his belongings, bowed, and left the room.

Mr Fordham stretched and sauntered to the far side of the parlour, where he took up residence, supine, upon a plush pink sofa.

“Well, ladies,” said Miss Rigby, “may I persuade you both to take a turn about the gardens? The flora is delightful, and a walk will be refreshing after sitting here for such a duration.” She glanced at Mr Fordham, but he appeared fast asleep. “Mr Darcy and Mr Hadley, would you care to join us?” The latter agreed with alacrity.

Darcy recalled an evening at Netherfield when Miss Bingley had invited Miss Eliza Bennet—as she called her—to take a turn about the room. He truly had believed the more enticing lady had been flirting with him, and he had reciprocated. Or so he had thought. Utter idiot. He startled when he heard his name being spoken.

“Mr Darcy and I shall be unable to join you, Miss Rigby. He has agreed to help me with this.” Miss Kensett waved her set of instructions at the chaperon.

When the other two ladies stood, Darcy and Mr Hadley jumped to their feet.

“I shall be delighted to see the gardens and enjoy some exercise,” said Elizabeth. “Sweet vernal freshness has given way to the summery scents of newly mown grass, lilacs, mint, and Shakespeare’s ‘luscious woodbine’. Physical activity out of doors often helps one arrive at a solution to a problem, and I do have quite a perplexing one now.” Gathering her papers, she turned to Miss Rigby and Mr Hadley. “Shall we?”

The chaperon frowned at Miss Kensett before going to speak to the housekeeper, who still stood by the door. Mrs Vincent then occupied the chair vacated by Miss Rigby. “I shall just wait here until you are ready to be shown to your room, Mr Darcy.” The housekeeper gave him a pointed look while withdrawing some sort of fabric and a needle from a pocket in the folds of her skirt. Lowering her eyes, she set about her work.

Darcy’s gaze lingered on the doorway even after Elizabeth, arm in arm with Mr Hadley, had gone from sight.

“Now then,” said Miss Kensett, demanding his attention, “make this silly little game comprehensible to me.”

“As you wish, madam. Simply put, there will be a series of enigmas, riddles, and such for you to ponder and solve. Doing so is only part of the task. When you solve a puzzle, you must then use information gleaned from it to locate your next puzzle. Each is unique. So there is no point in spying on another participant because they will be seeking something completely different from you…at least until the end. The ultimate conundrum will be the same for all remaining contestants. And that final answer will lead to the prize—the deed to Oakwood Manor and the key to Miss Armstrong’s money box.”

“So, whoever finds that final hiding spot will inherit all, correct?” When Darcy answered in the affirmative, Miss Kensett heaved a gusty sigh. “Far too much work! This competition is utterly ridiculous and quite beneath me. I should just be given the deed without further nonsense. My grandmother, may God rest her soul, was Miss Armstrong’s dearest friend.”

“Nevertheless, this was Miss Armstrong’s scheme, as specified in her will, and we must persevere. With any luck, someone will solve all the puzzles in one day and locate the deed. In which case, the tournament will end, and we each may go our own merry way. ”

Miss Kensett scowled at her creased paper. “But what does this mean?” She turned the puzzle towards Darcy, who looked away. “I require assistance,” she whinged. “Will you not help me?” She moved closer and, when he glanced over, fluttered her lashes at him again.

He held back from enquiring whether she had some sort of irritant in her eye. As handsome as she was, the lady was becoming an annoyance. I wager Elizabeth is out there using her incomparable ingenuity to find the answer to her poser. At the mere thought of her, another wave of heartbreak crashed into him.

Maids and footmen entered the room and unobtrusively set out the repast, but food had held little interest for Darcy since Elizabeth’s refusal of his offer.

Miss Kensett awaited an answer, so he patiently said, “You must work through that riddle yourself. Mr Monroe said the puzzles have been tailored so all contestants have a fair chance of winning.”

“But if you read it aloud to me”—she placed her hand upon his sleeve—“I might better grasp the phrasing.”

Grasp, indeed. Darcy freed his arm from her restraint. “According to the rules, madam, there can be no collaboration. Nor can a beneficiary impede another.”

“Is that not what you are doing at this very moment—impeding me?” Pressing her lips together, she shifted her body away from his. “Very well. I shall ask that darling Mr Hadley to help me. Or…I simply shall search this entire house, top to bottom, and find the deed without all the fuss and bother of working on foolish riddles.”

Darcy shook his head. “I very much doubt Mr Hadley will violate the rules. And if it is proved that a beneficiary has been cheating, they will be eliminated from the tournament. Also, there is little point in searching without solving puzzles. According to Mr Monroe, the prize is extremely well hidden and its whereabouts known by only him.”

Despite being ever the gentleman, Darcy was losing his patience with Miss Kensett. Her belief that she was inherently deserving of privileges and special treatment was beyond the pale. Furthermore, he was eager to begin working on his own conundrums—the one in his breast pocket and Elizabeth’s presence.

“I know what I shall do.” Miss Kensett held her head high. “My brother is fascinated by word games. He absolutely adores them beyond expression.”

“May I remind you that, barring an emergency or a disqualification, beneficiaries are to remain at Oakwood with no external communication until this time next week. Writing to your brother is not permitted.”

“Yes, but books have been published on the subject.” She gave him a superior smile. “And there is a library just across the vestibule.”

Keeping his countenance extremely well, Darcy asked whether she had been listening when Mr Monroe told them they would find no collections there by Peregrine Puzzlebrains, Peter Puzzlewit, or their ilk. “All such material has been temporarily removed. Now, Miss Kensett, if you will excuse me, I shall remove myself.”

He stood and bowed to her. “Oh, by the bye, in case you have not remembered, there are certain rooms beneficiaries are forbidden to enter during the tournament.” He consulted his set of instructions. “The wine cellar, the servants’ quarters and their hall, the larder, scullery, kitchens, butler’s pantry, housekeeper’s office, and all bedchambers other than one’s own.”

Turning then to the housekeeper, he said, “Please be so kind as to show me to my room now, Mrs Vincent. And I apologise for keeping you waiting.”

At the writing table in his assigned bedchamber, Darcy contemplated the words written upon the piece of paper he had unfolded the instant he entered the room.

Three-fourths of a cross and a circle complete,

Two semicircles and a perpendicular meet,

A triangle standing on two feet,

Two semicircles and a circle complete.

Crossing out his initial attempt at a solution, he put pencil to paper and tried again. In which direction are the blasted semicircles supposed to face? Where, exactly, should the vertical line be placed? And how should all this be arranged on the page?

His mind was preoccupied by that other conundrum, the one with intelligence, sparkling wit, incomparable mettle, fine eyes, pretty smile, and a strong sense of right and wrong.

The tip of the pencil snapped when, from an open window, her sweet voice floated on the breeze, all the way into his soul.

He rose to close the window. Instead, he lingered there watching Miss Rigby and Mr Hadley smiling at something Elizabeth said while they strolled, arm in arm, through the gardens.

Darcy turned away from the sight and sound of her. He vowed he would be polite, and he would show her that he had changed for the better. But he would not allow himself to be ruled again by anything other than rationality—not by his heart and certainly not by physics. Elizabeth may have all the pull of gravity, but I shall not fall for her again.

In an attempt to expunge the woman from his thoughts, he went for a brisk walk along woodland paths beyond the park. An hour or so later, while returning to the house, he noticed the occasional small cloud of smoke rising from the shrubbery. Concerned about fire, he investigated and discovered Peter Fordham sitting on a bench and puffing contentedly on a meerschaum pipe. Darcy nodded and greeted the man as he passed.

Although Darcy neither smoked a pipe nor used snuff, he found the wafting aroma rather pleasing, with its components of sweet honey, fresh orange, and smooth vanilla. The fragrance teased his nose and prodded his brain. Eureka!

At dinner, Mr Monroe called for everyone’s attention. “I congratulate one of you for having solved, in a trice, their first puzzle.”

“Oh, well done, I say!” cried Mr Hadley. Almost immediately upon that utterance, his face grew red, and he gave a little laugh. “Well, obviously, the clever person is not me.”

Mr Monroe rolled his eyes before continuing. “The solution has been verified by me, and the beneficiary is already working on their second. I trust that I shall not be divulging any secrets when I say that the poser they solved was an anagram.”

The puzzle Darcy had solved was not one of that sort, and he had not yet gone looking for a place where ‘tobacco’ might be found. The butler’s pantry was forbidden and Mr Fordham’s bedchamber not a possibility either .

Miss Armstrong enjoyed spirits. Might she also have indulged in sot weed? Darcy had heard that snuff cured headaches and that Queen Charlotte was fond of it. As soon as possible, he would search for snuff boxes.

But which of the beneficiaries had solved, in a trice, their first poser and was working on their second? A glance round the table gave Darcy no clue as to which of his rivals was in the lead, but he knew it was not Mr Hadley and assumed it was not Miss Kensett.

So, either Mr Fordham or she of formidable intelligence and quick understanding.