Chapter 8 Festive Commemoration #4
As Elizabeth rightly conjectured, Darcy was famished so beginning with luncheon was an excellent way to launch the fun.
The Netherfield cook was skilled, and today she and her helpers had outdone themselves.
The delicious menu included turtle soup, a salmagundi of mixed greens and vegetables with seasoned vinaigrette, Scotch quail eggs, beef a la mode, spinach soufflé, stewed oysters, and a salver of assorted fruits.
Then, no sooner had the table been cleared than a servant entered carrying a tiered server upon which were an array of sweet and savory treats.
In step with the first servant was a second bearing a tray upon which sat a silver gilt pot and four cups.
Quite replete, Darcy was eyeing the piles of ratafia cakes, coffee wafers, lemon biscuit, and fruit fritters with a mix of delight at seeing his favorites and dismay at how he could not eat another bite after the fabulous luncheon.
Sincerely hoping the idea was to leave the treats on the table to be nibbled on at leisure, he gave no thought to what he assumed was a pot of brewing hot tea—not until the tray was set onto the table centered between the two settees did the aroma catch his attention.
“Hot chocolate!” he exclaimed, instantly looking at Elizabeth, who was beaming. “You remembered.”
Bingley laughed. “Darcy, when will you finally accept the reality that our lovely ladies have us completely figured out and will forever strive to please us?”
“As will we for them,” Darcy confirmed, also chuckling. “Of course, you are correct, Bingley. Thank you, Elizabeth. I’m sure tea can be brought, if preferred over chocolate.”
Jane leaned to pour the thick beverage into the waiting cups. “Lizzy and I can count on one hand the number of times we have tasted hot chocolate. No offense, Mr. Darcy, but this is the part of the day I have most looked forward to.” Smiling, she handed him a steaming cup.
“None taken, I assure you.” As soon as the foursome held their filled cups, Darcy lifted his into the air. “A toast to friends who are soon to become family.”
“And to Mr. Darcy, whose fortuitous day of birth has given us an excellent reason to indulge in chocolate and much more,” Bingley added, with rousing cheers of agreement from the others.
Silently sipping the sweet drink and chewing a pear-and-apple fritter, Darcy peered at the cake.
Unsure how he was finding room in his stuffed stomach for the fritter—even as he finished it and reached for a jam-smeared lemon biscuit—he prayed the afternoon’s program called for slicing into the cake after hours to digest what he had already consumed.
“The cake”—he gestured with the biscuit—“is fascinating. I have never seen one with a lit candle. Is there a purpose?”
“Lizzy read about it,” Bingley answered. “A German tradition, is that correct?”
“It is.” Elizabeth bobbed her head, then setting her cup down, she clasped onto Darcy’s hand.
“You will appreciate this, William, as you love historical tidbits. A few years ago, I read the English translation of Andrew Frey’s interaction with the Moravians in Germany.
He wrote in detail about the birthday celebration for a Count Ludwig von Zinzendorf, which included a cake that had one candle for the years of his life.
Over fifty! The imagery intrigued me and stayed in my mind.
I’ve seen references since, scattered here and there, primarily German.
They have for centuries celebrated birthdays as an important rite of passage, as we do not tend to do in England.
The candles are an old tradition. Typically one is inserted into the cake for each year that has passed, with a single candle in the center representing continued life in the year ahead.
Hence the name ‘light of life’ for the main candle. A lovely custom, I think.”
“We opted for just one candle to avoid risking the house burning down,” Bingley joked.
Once the snickers passed, Elizabeth elaborated, “Per tradition, the candle must stay lit all day and be blown out at dusk. One big candle is easier to maintain and extinguish. Making a wish before blowing out the flame ensures its granting.”
Darcy smiled softly and squeezed her hand. “All my wishes have already come true. Nevertheless, while I am not one to lend credence to silly superstitions, this one is harmless fun, so I shall play along.”
On schedule for the remainder of the afternoon were a series of parlor games.
Not a huge enthusiast of group games which inevitably involved acting silly and being the center of attention, Darcy was less than thrilled at the prospect.
Being an intimate quartet eased his qualms, as did the choice of charades as the first game and being paired with Elizabeth.
While still not overly comfortable having all eyes upon him, the game of acting riddles required a fair command of language and some skill at dramatic performance.
Aware that his capability with the latter would come as a shock to the watching trio, he volunteered to go first.
Running through the charades he had memorized, he settled on one he could alter slightly. A tad suggestive, true, and sure to raise a rosy blush to Elizabeth’s cheeks.
Hiding a smug smile, he rose and stood at the designated spot for a solid minute of theatrical caesura. Then, eyes locked with Elizabeth’s, he abruptly broke the silence with exaggerated resonance accompanied by impassioned facial contortions and melodramatic arm gestures.
“When night brings on her moonlit hour,
And stillness holds her magic power,
All mortals to my arms repair,
To bid adieu to toil and care.
I am for various ends designed,
Yet often love… you there will find.
Within my vaults you seek repose,
In joy, and peace, find release from life’s woes.”
From the corner of his eye, Darcy noted Bingley and Jane reacting to his charade technique with expressions of astoundment.
Elizabeth’s face had initially shown a similar cast, but she swiftly overcame her amazement to listen carefully to his riddle.
Eyes followed his hand movements, tiny creases between her brows as she filtered through the words and relating gestures.
“Shall I repeat the charade? We are on a time limit for the point,” he teased.
She didn’t answer immediately. He could almost see the wheels turning as she pondered the riddle!
After a full minute, she opened her mouth, Darcy thinking she was about to ask him to repeat the charade when suddenly her eyes widened.
The flush he anticipated spread across her cheeks, but she also grinned saucily and didn’t glance away.
“Bedroom. The answer is bedroom.”
Bingley burst out laughing and Jane blushed scarlet.
Darcy inclined his head respectfully. “Excellently done, Miss Elizabeth. First play score is ours. Next turn is yours, Bingley. Try to top that.” He murmured the last as Bingley passed close by, adding an amused chuckle.
Charles merely shook his head.
Resuming his seat beside Elizabeth, Darcy was content to say nothing and simply enjoy the pleasant sensations swirling between them. All in all, a fantastic beginning for the entertainment portion of the day!
At the completion of eight rounds of charades, Darcy and Elizabeth were declared the winners.
Next on the agenda was twenty questions.
Being a game of intellect alone, Darcy was thrilled.
Per the request of Jane and Elizabeth, Mr. Bennet had selected the mystery objects for the guessing game.
To ensure fairness, his choices were written upon individual slips of paper and sealed in a thick envelope opened only when they were ready to start playing.
Deducing the correct answer in under twenty questions proved to be a challenge even for Darcy’s superior education and mental capacity.
Mr. Bennet’s objects covered a range of topics, with the difficulty levels running the gamut from a handful of moderately easy ones to several brain twisters.
For the final parlor game of the day, the party plotters had agreed upon blindman’s bluff.
In any other situation, participating in a game which required stumbling blindly about the room to chase after and then touch a person’s body was too horrific for Darcy to fathom.
On the maybe two or three rare occasions in his social outings when someone broached playing the game, he had politely but vehemently refused to join in.
Today, with these close friends, or more specifically with Elizabeth as his intended prey, the concept wasn’t quite so unpleasant.
The choice of blindman’s bluff rather than the dozens of alternative options had been favored precisely because of the physical contact necessary.
One must follow the rules, after all. If the game requirements failed to stipulate that kisses and embraces were not allowed, well, the fault was with the creators of the game pamphlets, right?
With their lithe figures and experience as dancers, the ladies were naturals at evading capture.
Jane employed her innate talent to be quiet and calm as a sort of shield from detection, almost as if she faded into invisibility from all the senses.
When someone came close, she silently sidled away.
It was fascinating to observe. Elizabeth was agile and speedy, traits that aided her in rapid direction changes and skipping out of reach.