Conundrums & Coincidences (Mr Darcy’s Dilemmas)

Chapter 9

9

GAMES PEOPLE PLAY

O n Saturday, in as desultory a manner as can be imagined, the seven of them sat round the dim parlour, drinking tea or coffee, eating cake, and listening to rain patter against windowpanes. Amongst them, there seemed little in the way of plan, purpose, or enthusiasm. Few bothered to give even a vague impression of employment.

On the laps of Elizabeth and the other two ladies, embroidery needles sat idle, pushed into fabric held taut within tambour frames.

Although Mr Darcy held a newspaper, he either fixedly looked upon her or stared vacantly into space. It was impossible for Elizabeth to determine his focus with any degree of accuracy. As for the others…

“Faith! I have it!”

Fiddlesticks. Has Mr Hadley solved yet another puzzle and already found his next? For her own part, Elizabeth was having difficulty with her third poser, the one she had found tucked up beneath the cushions of a sofa. Her puzzles were increasingly difficult, and in addition to that inconvenience, she was in a draw for first place with none other than Mr Darcy.

Given the importance of winning Miss Armstrong’s legacy for the sake of her family, she had mixed feelings about Mr Hadley gaining on her slight advantage. She liked him well enough and, under different circumstances, might have wanted him to succeed. Just not at my own expense and that of my mother and sisters.

Turning his back to the watery window, Mr Hadley exclaimed, “Games! If we are to be confined to the house because of this ghastly wet, I propose we play parlour games here in the parlour. Or perhaps, more appropriately, we might play them in the games room. What do you say?”

“I say,” Miss Kensett said rather drily, “that parlour games should be played only in the parlour.”

Elizabeth thought the note of sarcasm in the lady’s voice and the sneer on her face most unbecoming. “I think,” said she, “that parlour games are a splendid idea whether played here in the parlour or in the games room.” She leant forwards, waiting with eager anticipation for the others to agree.

A groan emanated from the vicinity of the plush pink sofa. Mr Fordham might even have muttered an oath. “I shall decline. It has been years since I participated in that sort of frivolity. Most likely never, come to think of it.”

The chaperon and the attorney declared they were too advanced in years to engage in parlour games; and seated on opposite ends of a striped sofa, Miss Kensett and Mr Darcy remained, respectively, sullen and silent and as dull as the day. Glancing at all the sour, uninspired faces, Elizabeth suspected Mr Hadley and she were the only light-hearted people in the room. By then, though, even he had donned a woebegone expression .

One glance at that young man’s disappointed face must have given Miss Rigby second thoughts because, after quietly consulting with Mr Monroe, she addressed the room. “Tut-tut. Such dreadful indifference! Come, come, everyone. We must not curb the vivacity of our two youngest companions.”

“Hear, hear!” Mr Monroe injected a dose of enthusiasm into his voice. “Let us not add to the gloom of this dreary day. We all shall be delighted to play parlour games, Mr Hadley.”

Miss Kensett yawned behind her fan before speaking in a listless manner. “Oh goody. I am in utter ecstasy at the very thought.” Languidly, she turned to Mr Darcy and placed bejewelled fingers upon his sleeve. “What say you, sir? Shall we plunge our faces in flour and our fingers in flames?”

Elizabeth wanted to roll her eyes but would not. In such cases as these, one must be gracious and easy-going. However, I could neither speak listlessly nor move languidly, even if my life depended upon it. And, Miss Kensett, do stop pawing at Mr Darcy.

“No, no, Miss Kensett,” Mr Hadley was saying, “nothing so hazardous as Bullet Pudding or Snapdragon. I suggest Buffy Gruffy, Musical Magic, or Short Answers. Or all three!”

Another groan emanated from the plush pink sofa. Its disapprobation, having been expressed, was immediately disregarded.

Mr Darcy flung aside his newspaper. “Buffy Gruffy? Surely you jest.”

“Up!” Mr Monroe shot to his feet. “Everyone, up! We are for the games room. Miss Rigby and I shall brook no disappointment.” He offered his arm to the chaperon, and they led the mostly grumbling parade out of the parlour.

There was some manoeuvring for position in the games room once Christopher had been ordered to arrange seven chairs in a circle.

Miss Kensett had insisted Mr Darcy sit beside her, but both he and Mr Hadley had scrambled for seats on either side of Elizabeth.

Seeking a favourable position had been for nought. Once the first player was blindfolded—Mr Hadley since Buffy Gruffy had been his idea—the others silently rose from their chairs and swapped places. “Now remember,” said the ringleader from the centre of the circle, “you must respond honestly or risk a forfeit. And do try your best to disguise your voice.”

To initiate the game, Mr Monroe clapped, and with an enthusiastic step, Mr Hadley walked round in front of the others several times, bumping into knees. Finally stopping at a particular chair, he said, “Are you a man or a woman?”

In a prim falsetto that suspiciously sounded like Miss Kensett’s voice, Mr Darcy said, “How dare you question my sex, sir!”

Someone snickered. Someone else gasped. Elizabeth’s jaw dropped. Good heavens. The staid gentleman is actually cooperating and performing .

“Well, madam,” said Mr Hadley, “if you have to pay a forfeit in this parlour game, which of the men here will you kiss?”

Someone, being Mr Fordham, snickered again.

The tips of Mr Darcy’s ears reddened. “I suppose”—his falsetto had risen higher—“I would choose…Mr Darcy. But I?—”

“Ha! I do not even need to ask a final question. You are Mr Darcy!”

“Was I not convincing? ”

“No.” Smiling, Mr Hadley removed the blindfold and handed it to him.

With more good humour than Elizabeth anticipated, Mr Darcy went to the centre, donned the blindfold, and waited while seats were exchanged and until someone clapped. He then took his time walking inside the circle, seemingly listening for telltale signs and trying to distinguish each person’s scent.

Elizabeth’s eyes widened when, on his second pass, he stopped directly in front of her. She had not made a sound. Had he detected the essences she distilled? The unique fragrance she created for herself in Longbourn’s still room featured clover, apple, violet, and cucumber.

“Have you ever visited the Hunsford parsonage in Kent?” His shins were but a hairbreadth from Elizabeth’s knees.

What can he mean by introducing such a weighty subject in the company of others?

His fine, tall form, his deep voice, his very proximity produced within her such vibrations that it was difficult to breathe let alone answer. Modulating her tone, Elizabeth spoke gently, like Miss Rigby. “Why yes, young man, I have.”

His firm jaw clenched, and he seemed to hold himself with a rigidity beyond his customary good posture. “I see. And did anything of significance occur there?”

“Yes,” she whispered, forgetting to disguise her voice. “I was cruel to someone that evening, and I long to be forgiven by them.” How can I possibly continue playing this game? With pensive admiration, Elizabeth regarded the gentleman’s handsome face. She could not see his eyes because of the blindfold, but his features had seemed to soften at her whispered apology.

“I am certain you have their forgiveness, madam.”

Glancing round the circle, Elizabeth saw an assemblage of confusion, and she wondered what the others thought about such odd questions and answers.

Mr Darcy cleared his throat. “Last question. During Mr Hadley’s interrogation, did I, perhaps, make a cake of myself?” There was a fleeting quirk at the corners of his mouth.

Elizabeth’s heart went pit-a-pat. I do like this good-humoured Mr Darcy. I like him very much indeed. In an approximation again of the chaperon’s voice, she replied, “Yes, young man, I am afraid you did make a cake of yourself, but it was very sweet.”

“I thank you, Miss Rigby.”

“I am not Miss Rigby.”

To all appearances, he had guessed incorrectly, so Mr Darcy then had to move on and ask three questions of another player.

For an interval following their public tête-à-tête, Elizabeth spared Buffy Gruffy scant heed. She was too busy listening to her heart. I truly feel I could learn to love him. Such perfect timing, Lizzy, now, when all is in vain.

By mid-afternoon, the sky had cleared, which was more than could be said of Elizabeth’s muddled thoughts. Pacing in her bedchamber, she fretted and she pondered and she suppressed rising hope.

Had Mr Darcy truly forgiven her? Was it possible he still felt an attachment? Preposterous! Such a likelihood was contrary to reason and common sense. It went against the gentleman’s very nature. He had made it abundantly clear his temper could be resentful and that his good opinion once lost was lost for evermore .

He is such an enigma! And just when I need to give all my attention to solving this other perplexing one. Frowning at the words upon a piece of foolscap in her hand, Elizabeth stopped at the window but soon walked away. No light had been shed on the puzzle she needed to solve.

Had she been struggling with a problem at Longbourn, she would have set out for a nice long ramble, and her pace would have gradually increased until she was running at full tilt. While such indecorousness could not be attempted at Oakwood, the situation definitely called for a brisk walk. Her decision to go had nothing at all to do with the fact that she had just spotted Mr Darcy striding towards the hilly, wooded paths.

Minutes later, while passing the hedgerows, Elizabeth heard rustling just beyond the dog-roses. Leaves moving in the breeze? There was no breeze. She tried peering through the shrubbery.

Without further warning, something green and misshapen rounded the bushes and rushed at her. She screamed.

“Miss Ben—” Bent almost double, holding one hand against her heaving chest and the other at her waist, Miss Kensett panted and wheezed. “Miss Bennet…I have been up and down…those nasty, prickly brambles…all afternoon in the hope of…encountering you. Must you walk with such haste? I had to run to catch up with you. Now I cannot catch my breath…and I have this…dreadful stitch in my side.”

“Up and down prickly brambles! All afternoon? Good heavens, ’tis little wonder you are winded.”

But otherwise unscathed, it seems. Had I been climbing thorn bushes for hours on end, I might have incurred a scratch or two.

Elizabeth guided Miss Kensett to the nearest bench and ensured it was dry after the morning’s rain. She thought the lady might have looked resplendent in that Pomona green gown and emerald-coloured turban had she not been in such a state of inelegance.

Once they both had settled themselves and arranged their skirts just so, Elizabeth said, “You could have sought me in the house, you know. I was there this past hour trying to solve my current puzzle. You need not have enfeebled yourself.”

The rasp in the lady’s chest by then was a disconcerting whistle. “No, no. I need to speak to you in privacy. Thanks to Mr Monroe’s uncouth announcement at dinner last night, everyone is now aware I am in last place. Through no fault of my own, I might add.”

Elizabeth simply stared at her.

“Well, it is not my fault that I do not possess the ability to decipher complex rhyming vocabulary. I tried, on two separate occasions, to solicit assistance. Both that handsome Mr Darcy and young Mr Hadley were terribly sorry they could not help me. As for that unscrupulous Mr Fordham… Well! The very sight of him is odious to me. I cannot bear the thought of being outdone by someone so mean and deceitful.” She leant in and whispered, “I am sorry to say it of anyone, but he thinks of himself before anybody else and is intent on snatching—yes, snatching!—everything he possibly can.”

Miss Kensett placed a gloved hand upon Elizabeth’s. “As the sole females in this silly competition, I say we should work together, you and I. What do you think?”

She seemed earnest in her application, but Elizabeth could not risk disqualification. “You know perfectly well such collusion is strictly forbidden. I am sorry, but I am unable to help you.”

“Unable or unwilling?” Leaning away, Miss Kensett uttered an inarticulate sound, making her dissatisfaction known. “How terribly disappointing it is to discover one’s friends can be so terribly, terribly selfish.” Standing, she spoke in high agitation. “You have provoked me, but I shall know how to exact revenge.”

We never were friends, madam. Elizabeth had made an enemy, but she would not relent. “I, too, am acquainted with a woman whose own ease and gratification seem to be her ruling principles, and yes, it is disappointing.” Standing, she faced her rival. “Now, if you are fully recovered, I shall leave you.” Before striding away, she added, “With any luck, I shall find ease and happiness in yonder woods.”

About a quarter of the way up the shaded bridleway, Elizabeth encountered Mr Darcy returning from his walk. He was not alone, and he did not appear best pleased with his companion. Both gentlemen seemed inordinately glad to see her, but it was Mr Fordham who offered his arm and steered her back the way she had come.

“You and I have not had an opportunity to improve our acquaintance, Miss Bennet,” said he, “and it would give me particular pleasure to have the chance to do so now. By the bye, I understand you are from Hertfordshire, and I was wondering whether you are at all familiar with…”