Chapter Thirteen
The archery match concluded amidst loud cheers from the gentlemen and unhappy muttering amongst the ladies.
Lady Hortensia and Lord Malcolm remained upon the lawn, chatting gaily with competitors while Mr Pritchard entered the latest scores into the great leather ledger.
Around them, servants began collecting the arrows and carrying away the targets, though one bow had been left resting against the trunk of an oak.
George Darcy picked it up absently as he passed.
His cousin Edward was explaining to anyone who would listen how his final shot had been the finest of the afternoon.
George could tell that his self-congratulation was likely to go on for some time, and he was already exhausted from the press of people and the heat of the afternoon.
He retreated to the shade of an ash tree, hoping to find a moment of quiet.
The Challenge had been enjoyable in the main, but he was a man who generally preferred solitude and quiet pursuits—the constant requirement for conversation pressed on him.
He had almost reached the shade when Lady Anne Fitzwilliam called his name.
She was crossing the lawn towards him with her gloves clasped in one hand, the full skirts of her pale violet silk gown lifted just clear of the grass.
A wide sash of darker purple circled her waist, while fine lace softened the square neckline and short sleeves.
Her dark hair had been dressed high with two long curls falling over one shoulder and a small spray of white feathers trembling above them as she walked.
Her face was handsome rather than delicate, with clear grey eyes, strongly marked brows and a mouth that seemed formed for firm opinions.
At present, every part of it expressed distinct dissatisfaction.
"Mr Darcy, may I see that bow?"
George handed it to her without question, the corner of his mouth quirking in amusement.
Lady Anne turned it slowly in her hands, examined the curve of the wood and drew the string back a short distance before releasing it.
She repeated the inspection with greater care, then looked up at him with a faint frown. "It appears to be perfectly sound."
"I am relieved to hear it."
Her gaze sharpened. "The gentlemen won by a suspiciously comfortable margin this afternoon.
Miss Goldsmith is one of the best archers I know, yet today she scarcely found the target.
Lady Eleanor performed no better, and norr did several others who ordinarily shoot very well.
I do not believe so many ladies could have forgotten how to use a bow within the course of a single afternoon. "
George regarded her for a moment before understanding what she meant. "You think the gentleman won by some unfair advantage?" He let out a laugh. "I suppose there is no possibility that we were simply the stronger competitors?"
"I suppose it is possible," she said. Her mouth remained set in an unhappy line.
George realised with a jolt that she was very beautiful.
He had noticed her before, but in the distant way one notices a piece of fine art—lovely to look upon, but too polished and remote to invite closer interest. Now, standing so near, with colour still warm in her cheeks from the archery and her hair ruffled by the breeze, she appeared less severe than he had imagined.
Even the dissatisfied line of her mouth only made him wonder what it might look like when she smiled, or even better, laughed a real, unguarded laugh.
She offered the bow back to him, though her manner suggested that she remained suspicious. George looked it over once more. The wood was smooth, the string properly fixed and there was nothing to distinguish it from those the ladies had used.
"I can find nothing amiss."
"Nor could I," Lady Anne admitted, with evident reluctance. "But that does not explain the result." She drew herself up, her back ramrod straight and eyes steady on his. "I do not object to losing when the contest is fair."
"Nor would I expect you to. But all appears to be in order, and unless Lady Hortensia has secretly instructed the servants to weaken the ladies’ bows, I fear you may have to accept that the gentlemen won honestly."
"I shall accept nothing without evidence."
George looked down at the bow in his hand, then back towards the lawn where the rest had already been gathered into a servant’s arms and the competitors were making their way back to the house.
Relations between the teams seemed to have thawed and several of the ladies had accepted the arms of gentlemen.
"I fear the others may have escaped before you could question them."
That did make her smile, though only for a moment. "You find this vastly amusing."
"Not vastly. Only a little."
Lady Anne sighed and shook her head, turning towards the house, but after a few steps she glanced back. "Are you to spend all afternoon skulking under this tree, Mr Darcy?"
George grinned. "Not if a beautiful lady is willing to rescue me from my solitude."
Her eyebrows rose. "Rescue you?"
"Only as far as the terrace. I promise not to make the task too difficult."
Lady Anne gave him a look that was still suspicious, but the ghost of a smile played upon her lips as she said, "Come along, then sir. I suppose I should not abandon a defenceless gentleman to the wilds of Derbyshire."
He was by her side in a few long strides, offering his arm with a grin. She placed her hand there gently and said in a low voice, "Do not imagine this alters anything, Mr Darcy. Tomorrow, I fully intend to beat you."