CHAPTER NINE
“SURELY, YOU MUST fancy a little more than cards,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said cheerfully, as Mr Hurst proposed, with unabashed satisfaction, that they resume the very same game interrupted the day before.
Mr Hurst snorted, still intent upon his breakfast. “What other game is worth the trouble.”
Elizabeth, seated between Jane and Mrs Gardiner, lowered her eyes to her plate to conceal a smile. There was something oddly comforting in Mr Hurst’s unwavering devotion to cards, as though variety itself were an unnecessary exertion.
“Draughts, perhaps,” the colonel suggested. “Or backgammon.”
“Very respectable choices,” Mr Bennet observed mildly from farther down the table. “Though I should argue that gentlemen of the militia are particularly partial to both.”
Lady Catherine, who had thus far been silent, straightened at once. “Cards are far superior,” she declared, as though the matter had been laid before her expressly for judgment. “I appreciate the appeal of boards and rules, but cards suit every occasion.”
Elizabeth wondered, not for the first time, whether Lady Catherine could endure an occasion without offering her judgment upon it.
Mr Collins leaned forward eagerly. “Your ladyship is entirely correct. At Rosings, cards are always preferred. I have frequently remarked upon their improving influence, especially when played under proper supervision.”
A brief stillness followed. Darcy’s eyes flicked toward Mr Collins with unmistakable reserve, and Colonel Fitzwilliam’s mouth twitched, though whether in amusement or restraint Elizabeth could not say.
In that moment, Charlotte cleared her throat with quiet determination, her gaze fixed resolutely upon her plate, as though calling her husband gently, but firmly, back to order.
Darcy, who had not yet spoken, lifted his eyes and addressed Mr Bennet directly. “And you, sir. Which do you prefer.”
Mr Bennet looked up, mildly surprised, then smiled. “Chess.”
“A wonderful choice,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said at once. “A game of strategy is always instructive.”
“Indeed,” Darcy agreed. His tone was calm, but as he spoke, his eyes flicked briefly toward Elizabeth, and for the smallest instant, the corner of his mouth curved upward.
Elizabeth felt a curious lightness stir within her. She looked down at once, unsure whether she had truly seen it, or merely imagined the expression she wished to find.
Mr Hurst waved a dismissive hand. “Too much thinking. Cards require no such exertion.”
“Which may explain their enduring popularity,” Mr Bennet replied.
Elizabeth bit her lip to keep from laughing.
Captain Ashford’s gaze turned toward her at once. “I confess myself adaptable,” he said pleasantly. “So long as there is good company, I am content.”
Elizabeth smiled politely in return, though her attention wandered despite herself.
Almost without meaning to, her eyes found Darcy, who was listening now as Georgiana leaned toward him to whisper something.
He inclined his head to her, attentive and patient, and Elizabeth felt an odd pang of fondness at the sight.
“Cards, draughts, or chess,” Mrs Bennet said animatedly, pleased to insert herself into the discussion, “any game that promotes felicity is well suited to genteel society.”
Darcy inclined his head, a gesture of acknowledgment or perhaps agreement, Elizabeth could not be certain which.
As he did so, his eyes met hers once more, and this time there was no mistaking the expression.
It was fleeting, restrained, and gone almost before she could catch it, but it was unmistakably a smile.
Her breath caught. A warmth rose unbidden to her cheeks.
She turned at once to her tea, half amused, half vexed with herself for being so easily affected. Yet the feeling lingered, quiet and welcome, and she could not bring herself to wish it away.
“Perhaps, sir,” Darcy said, addressing Mr Bennet, “we might have a match this afternoon in my study.”
“Indeed?” Mr Bennet replied, looking up with interest. “I should welcome it. It has been some time since I have had a truly challenging opponent, excepting Lizzy.”
Elizabeth nearly choked, caught wholly unprepared by the sudden attention.
“You play chess?” Darcy asked, his brows lifting in genuine surprise.
Before Elizabeth could answer, Miss Bingley interposed herself with practised ease.
“Oh, Miss Eliza does a great many things,” she said lightly.
“You may recall she preferred reading to cards when she visited Jane at Netherfield. I should not be surprised if she favoured chess over livelier pursuits.”
“A most unsuitable inclination for a young lady,” Lady Catherine declared at once. “How is a single woman to cultivate society if she devotes herself to games meant for older gentlemen?”
Darcy’s voice was calm, but there was firmness in it. “On the contrary. Skill at chess is a testament to intellect. If Miss Elizabeth excels at it, it speaks to her intelligence, and nothing else.”
Miss Bingley coloured at once and bent resolutely over her plate.
“And perhaps,” Darcy continued, after a moment’s pause, “we may have a game of our own as well, Miss Elizabeth, when it suits you.”
Elizabeth smiled, though her heart fluttered unexpectedly. Had she truly heard him aright? He had spoken little to her since her arrival at Pemberley, and never without purpose… yet this was an invitation, plainly given.
She glanced toward Jane, who was too engaged in quiet laughter with Mr Bingley to notice at once, but upon catching Elizabeth’s look, she smiled and nodded, her expression full of affectionate understanding.
Conversation flowed on more easily after that, touching upon the state of the roads, the likelihood of the snow slowing, and the various amusements to be contrived while they remained confined together.
Mr Bingley spoke with animation to Jane, whose countenance reflected an ease that warmed Elizabeth’s heart.
Mrs Gardiner listened with interest to Colonel Fitzwilliam, while Mrs Bennet surveyed the table with evident satisfaction, as though the harmony of the gathering were a personal triumph.
Kitty and Lydia laughed even when not necessary.
Only Mary, Anne de Bourgh, and Lady Catherine maintained a note of melancholy throughout.
By the time breakfast drew to a close, Elizabeth felt herself unusually content. The room was full of voices and movement, yet beneath it all ran a quieter current, one she was beginning to understand.
And when, at last, she rose from the table, she was quite certain she had not imagined that smile.
***
“Knight To E6,” Mr Bennet said, moving the piece with quiet satisfaction. “Surely you see now how I may have you in five moves.”
Darcy studied the board a moment longer than strictly necessary. “I see the danger,” he replied. “Whether I may yet escape it is another matter.”
It was their second game of the afternoon, and Darcy had long since acknowledged that Mr Bennet’s earlier remark about favouring chess had not been idle boasting.
The first game had been lost more swiftly than Darcy cared to admit.
This second was proving more stubborn, and though Mr Bennet spoke with confidence, Darcy suspected the advantage was not so decisive as he wished it to appear.
“You hesitate,” Mr Bennet observed pleasantly. “That is always a hopeful sign in one’s opponent.”
Darcy allowed himself a faint smile and made his move. “I am learning, sir, that haste is seldom rewarded at this table.”
“Or at any other,” Mr Bennet returned. “Prudence is a virtue often discovered too late.”
They played on in companionable silence for a few moments, the fire crackling softly at their backs. Then Darcy spoke again, with an air of casual inquiry that did not quite disguise its purpose.
“May I ask, sir… does Miss Elizabeth play as well as you do?”
Mr Bennet looked up at once, his brows lifting with mild interest. “Yes. Quite as well, when she chooses to apply herself. Though I confess I should wish her sisters would show half the inclination. Chess is an excellent corrective for idle minds.”
Darcy nodded. “I find,” he said carefully, “that there is a great deal I do not yet know about Miss Elizabeth.”
Mr Bennet regarded him over the board. “Naturally. Unless one is gifted with mind-reading, it is to be expected. She is neither family… nor, until very recently, I believe, a friend.”
Darcy felt the truth of that remark keenly. He moved his bishop, then said, more deliberately, “I should consider myself her friend, sir.”
Mr Bennet’s mouth twitched. “That is not an opinion which has been reported to me.”
Darcy inclined his head. “I fear Miss Elizabeth has not thought it necessary to catalogue our acquaintance. But we met in Kent, during her visit to Mr and Mrs Collins, and later at Pemberley in the summer, when she stayed with her aunt and uncle.”
“Ah,” Mr Bennet said. “So you have been acquainted rather longer than my memory supplied.”
“Yes,” Darcy replied. “And it is precisely for that reason that I wished to speak with you.”
Mr Bennet leaned back in his chair, regarding him with open curiosity. “You have my attention.”
Darcy hesitated only a moment. “Had I returned to Hertfordshire, it would have been my intention to call at Longbourn and request this conversation there. But as circumstances have placed us together here, I hope you will forgive the informality.”
Mr Bennet gestured lightly. “Proceed, sir. The board may wait.”
Darcy drew a steady breath. “With your approval, I wish to pay my addresses to your daughter.”
Mr Bennet did not answer at once. Instead, he studied Darcy for a long moment, then smiled, not unkindly. “With Captain Ashford so industriously hovering about her, you will find the task requires some skill.”
“I do not consider him an obstacle,” Darcy replied calmly.
“No,” Mr Bennet said. “Nor do I, particularly. But you should know this, Mr Darcy. Elizabeth has a mind of her own. I have no wish to direct it, nor to interfere where her feelings are concerned.”
“I would expect nothing less, sir.”
“Good.” Mr Bennet returned his attention briefly to the board. “One further caution. My family has lately endured more notice than I care to remember. I would have no unnecessary speculation, no display that might invite comment where none is needed.”
“You have my word,” Darcy said earnestly. “I shall conduct myself with all proper consideration.”
Mr Bennet nodded, satisfied. “Then you have my permission.”
Darcy felt a weight lift from him that he had scarcely known he carried. “Thank you, sir.”
Mr Bennet smiled faintly. “Now,” he said, glancing back at the chessboard, “shall we see whether you are indeed as lost as you feared.”
Darcy looked down, considered, and made his move.
“I believe,” he said quietly, “the game is not yet decided.”
Mr Bennet smiled.