Chapter 8
8
A SPECTACULAR DISPLAY
“ G ood God!” cried Darcy with more passion than politeness. “Are you well?” So great was his astonishment that it overcame the bounds of propriety, and he put his arms round her. While grateful to finally have her there, concern over her welfare overrode any other emotion.
Recollecting himself, he apologised for the collision, although it had been she who had rammed into him with great force. Soft curves remained obligingly crushed against his chest until he strengthened his resolve and slowly backed away. “Whatever is the matter?” From the corner of one eye, Darcy saw Miss Kensett descending the staircase, but he paid her no mind.
Miss Bennet stammered, “Forgive me. I was just… I…” Regaining her composure although her cheeks were ablaze, she drew herself up and said she was perfectly well. But when she touched her nose, she winced.
Her eyes are watery. The impact with my sternum must have been painful. “Shall I summon Mrs Vincent or one of the maids? Do you require a cold cloth or some ice? ”
Darcy’s earlier outburst must have alerted Miss Rigby, for suddenly she was before them, asking what had occurred and casting suspicion upon him. Placing her arm across Elizabeth’s slender shoulders, the chaperon gently guided her towards the staircase, all the while murmuring to her as they left Darcy standing alone.
Before gaining the first stair, Elizabeth looked back over her shoulder at him. The soft expression upon her face crossed the distance separating them and laid claim to his heart—the heart he had tried with all his might to harden against her very presence. The struggle had been futile. He still was as much in her power as he ever had been.
He watched until his heart’s desire, in her simple jonquil gown, retreated from sight. Her fragrance’s sillage lingered in the air and on his clothing. Sniffing his sleeve, he caught a whiff of powdery sweetness, vanilla or honey, and fresh, crisp fruitiness. Fresh, pure, and—heaven help him—romantic.
Rousing himself, Darcy went hunting for tobacco. The most probable places were forbidden—the butler’s pantry, bedchambers, and the ground-floor boudoir Miss Armstrong had used while still ambulant but unable to manage stairs. Where else might blasted sot weed be kept?
There was no one he could question about whether the elderly lady had even used tobacco. Neither Mr Monroe, the other beneficiaries, nor the servants would be of assistance. If asked, the youngster, no doubt, would inadvertently give the game away. Darcy shook his head at Mr Hadley’s naiveté but could not help but like him. The younger man’s little fever of admiration for Elizabeth proved he possessed good judgment, at least regarding the ladies.
Turning his musings towards his other conundrum, Darcy remembered there was in the library a cabinet, which Mrs Vincent described as containing family heirlooms and knick-knackery from Miss Armstrong’s formative years in Carlisle. He supposed its shelves might house a snuff box or two that once had belonged to her father or brothers.
Upon reaching his destination, Darcy greeted one of the footman brothers who was stationed beside the door.
“Miss Kensett is within, sir.” Alfred’s tone revealed nothing; his eyes conveyed a warning.
Darcy considered retreating and returning another time but chastised himself for cowardice. Shoulders back, he strode into the room. At first glance, the place seemed unoccupied until, above the back of a rose-coloured armchair, he glimpsed the tip of a brunette head. So as not to startle her, he softly cleared his throat before rounding the seat. Leant over a piece of foolscap, Miss Kensett seemed not to have heard him.
Averting his eyes from the puzzle resting upon the lady’s lap, Darcy softly said, “Good day, madam. I hope I am not disturbing you.”
The lady jumped and gave such a shriek of alarm that Alfred dashed into the room.
By the time Darcy had looked from the footman back to the woman, Miss Kensett had gained her feet, and her puzzle had slid to the floor. Her next action occurred so swiftly that Darcy might have missed it. But he did not. The thick spectacles that had rested upon the lady’s blushing face were quickly torn off and concealed within the folds of her gown.
“Mr Darcy!” Her hand flew to her throat. “I… I…rarely wear those dreadful things. Truly! I require them only for reading, you see, and…” She seemed absolutely horrified that he had caught her wearing spectacles.
Heaven and Earth! Such vanity! Giving Miss Kensett a chance to regain her dignity, Darcy, without reading it, fetched the fallen paper from the Axminster carpet. The footman, he noticed, had left the room but loitered just beyond the door.
“Perhaps now, Mr Darcy,” said the lady, snatching the puzzle from his hand, “you can comprehend why I required your assistance with yesterday’s instructions. To make amends for refusing me that kindness, you may help decipher this.” She waved the paper beneath his nose. When he refused to even look at it, she smiled a mirthless smile. “Or shall I apprise Mr Monroe of what I witnessed earlier? I distinctly remember you telling me that, according to the rules, there can be no collaboration between beneficiaries. Yet I saw you and Miss Bennet in an ardent embrace.”
Darcy bristled. “That, madam, was not”— as much as I might wish it —“an embrace, ardent or otherwise. It was more of a…a clutch as the result of a collision.” O ne with quite an impact on me.
Mr Monroe advanced towards them. “Alfred informed me there might be some sort of problem or misconduct here. Is that so, Miss Kensett? Mr Darcy?”
“No, sir,” said Darcy, looking the attorney in the eye. “Neither problem nor wrongdoing has occurred. I am afraid I startled poor Miss Kensett. She dropped something, and I retrieved it for her.”
“Yes.” The lady nodded in agreement. “The gentleman caught me quite unawares.”
Mr Monroe looked as though he did not believe either of them.
Sidling up to the older man, Miss Kensett said, “Now, sir, I wonder whether I might have a moment of your time.” She hooked her arm through his. “I am having a spot of bother with this silly little puzzle, you see, and…” They strolled from the room .
Darcy wondered what Miss Kensett actually might say to Mr Monroe, but it mattered not. Elizabeth and I did nothing wrong.
Left blessedly alone, he walked about the library, marvelling at its furnishings and decorations. He had been there the previous day in the company of the housekeeper and Elizabeth but had been too distracted by the latter’s disturbing presence to take note of much anything else.
With cosy corner nooks on either side of the fireplace and its floral this and its delicate that, never before had Darcy been in such a book-room. Two walls were pink, two covered with flowery papers, and the paintings gracing them featured plants or dishes of fruit. Cream-coloured paint coated the furniture, bookcases, shelves, and windowsills. Fabrics of various designs and in every shade of light green had been chosen for curtains, upholstery, tablecloths, and cushions. Delights fresh from the garden burst forth from eight delicate vases, and three elegant Axminster carpets in soft shades and leafy patterns were scattered across the oaken floor. With several pretty shawls flung over the backs of sofas and chairs, the room was decidedly feminine.
In contrast, the hundreds of periodicals and leather-bound volumes covered a multitude of topics such as astronomy, history, gardening, war, and, predominantly, law. There were atlases, travel guides, dictionaries, and a few works by poets. Notably missing were conduct books, novels, and periodicals of La Belle Assemblée’s ilk.
The lady truly was something of an enigma.
Darcy had his own enigma to solve, and situated between two windows was the cabinet he sought. Inside its glass doors, shelves displayed an eclectic assortment of fripperies and curiosities—fragrant sachets, pomanders, perfume bottles, cockle shells, a pair of homemade shoes, old fairings, a couple of pocket watches, and a collection of rather hideous statuettes.
When he opened one of the cabinet drawers, Darcy discovered, to his great satisfaction, a variety of snuff boxes—eleven, to be exact—nestled amongst bunches of dried herbs and flowers. Similar to Elizabeth, Miss Armstrong undoubtedly had an appreciation for nature.
Glancing through one of the windows overlooking Oakwood’s rose garden, he remembered the day in Kent when he had caught the independent Miss Elizabeth Bennet picking wildflowers while humming and wandering alone through a meadow.
Only then, standing there at that window, did he realise how akin to wildflowers she was—blooming, fragrant, bright, natural. She thrived without much assistance. She was delicate yet hardy and, to a degree, uncultivated.
His traitorous mind then imagined Mr Hadley obtaining a pretty posy of wildflowers from an obliging field and presenting them to her. Why did I not think of doing something similar in Kent? To his chagrin, Darcy realised that, even in his imagination, the younger man knew how to please Elizabeth far better than he, himself, ever had. Should I offer Elizabeth a bouquet from the gardens here? What would be her response to such a gift from me?
Enough! He could not, would not, risk having either his heart or his pride injured by her a second time. With steely determination, he set about opening and examining each snuff box, hoping to find his next puzzle.
Most likely never used for its intended purpose, the pristine interior of an ivory box held a scrap of red silk. Nestled within was a single jade earring.
Nothing but a tortoiseshell lining and a piece of fluff was found inside the gold box .
Sporting a magnificent dragon on its lid, an enamel box was filled with what Darcy assumed was desiccated tobacco. He sniffed. Not snuff! He sneezed. Pepper!
The pair of matching boxes crafted from malachite each held a pencil stub but no puzzle.
A silver bracelet, its inscription tarnished beyond legibility, rested within the papier-maché box, the flower and butterfly design on its lid barely discernible beneath a layer of grime. Darcy wiped his palms on his handkerchief and continued.
The most unusual snuff boxes were the five carved from a variety of exotic woods. The odd-shaped fish surrendered nothing but a musty smell, and the comical frog had captured an insect.
A teak monkey with eyes of glass looked promising but proved disappointing. When its hinged neck was tipped back, the creature’s stomach revealed a mouldy bit of something that once might have been edible. The lid was quickly snapped shut on that one.
Two boxes remained.
Engraved with the words ‘to warm the heart’, the box carved to resemble a bellows probably had been given as a love token. It held a tiny, torn scrap of vellum. Could it be? When unfolded, the fine parchment cracked, and its edges crumbled. Barely legible in faded ink were the words ‘Your Servant, EK’. Not a puzzle, then, just the closing of an archaic love letter.
Rather than acrimony, I should have written words of love to Elizabeth. Better yet, I should have spoken them to her.
Since that evening at Hunsford, Darcy had spent far too much time reliving unfulfilled dreams. Sleep had been lost, as had much of his appetite. Thankfully, he had a large, prosperous estate to oversee, and he was bound and determined to do his duty and do it well. But those two long, lonely months had been difficult.
Now, seeing again those fine eyes, basking in her smiles, inhaling her unique fragrance, and hearing her voice…but knowing she never will be mine is nothing less than torment.
Chastising himself for still pining for that which he never had, Darcy opened the final box.
Well, well! As is always the case, whatever one is looking for is found in the last place one looks.
In retrospect, a miniature wooden shoe, symbolising luck, should have been the first snuff box he opened, not the eleventh.
But that eleventh box would lead him one step closer to winning the tournament. And, just as eleven steps had led him up to the offices of Pemberton
And when these two are together, they’ll form
The name of a very brave place.
How and where would one find a place in Hampshire at Oakwood Manor? During his tour of the public rooms, Darcy had noticed no framed paintings of the naval base. But, in the very room in which he sat, there were globes and, more importantly, atlases. Choosing the volume featuring a collection of maps of England, he thumbed through its pages and found not only Portsmouth but a piece of foolscap with his next poser.
He congratulated himself and sought Mr Monroe and verification.
At dinner, the table’s epergne captured Mr Hadley’s fulsome notice. Apparently, neither the vivacious Elizabeth nor the handsome Miss Kensett could hold a candle to the reappearance of that ormolu and cranberry-glass wonder. The young gentleman’s hazel eyes virtually bored holes into the leonine legs supporting the ornate centrepiece.
Try as he might, Darcy could barely conceal his amusement. Seated opposite him, Elizabeth frequently held a linen table napkin against her lips, and he suspected she did so to conceal her own smiles.
During the dessert course, Mr Monroe called for attention. “I congratulate two of you for having correctly solved a second puzzle.”
While the attorney had the other diners’ ears and eyes, Darcy watched Mr Hadley surreptitiously tilt the epergne—nearly toppling fruit from its glass dishes in the process—and insert a probing finger inside one of its hollow legs.
Mr Monroe asked for a round of applause for the tournament’s leaders, and everyone complied, although Sophia Kensett and Peter Fordham seemed to do so reluctantly.
The youngest beneficiary took that opportunity to swivel the centrepiece and try again. With altruistic gladness, Darcy witnessed the moment Mr Hadley removed a slender strip of paper from one of the sphinx’s limbs .
“Upon my soul! I have it!” Mr Hadley held up his prize, then pushed back his chair. Fetching another piece of paper from a breast pocket, he rushed to the rather annoyed-looking attorney’s side. “Mr Monroe,” he said, almost gasping, “please verify that I have correctly solved my first puzzle and found my second.”
“Young man, you might have waited until after dinner and spared me, and perhaps others, from a bout of dyspepsia.” Their host scrutinised the two pages before announcing that, with two solved puzzles apiece, Elizabeth and Darcy were in a draw for first place. Mr Fordham and Mr Hadley, each having achieved success with one puzzle, held second place.
Miss Kensett’s lip curled so sardonically that Darcy wondered whether the woman suffered from a bad case of the aforementioned impaired digestion.