Chapter Fourteen #2
Lady Frances rose from her seat with the dignity of an anointed queen. "Then the gentleman selected may make good use of it."
Several of the ladies applauded. Mr Ashcombe's expression hardened. "This is meant to be a test of sporting prowess," he said. "Not theatricals."
Lady Frances turned her head at last. "Are you objecting because you believe a lady incapable of defeating you, Mr Ashcombe, or because you fear one might?"
The lawn erupted. Mr Hadley covered a laugh with his hand, Colonel Fitzwilliam made no attempt to hide his delight and Mr Anstruther grinned openly.
Captain Fanshawe looked away, though not before Elizabeth saw the smile he was trying to conceal, and even Darcy's mouth shifted before he brought it under control.
Mr Ashcombe flushed. "I fear no such thing."
"Excellent," said Lady Hortensia. "Then you may represent the gentlemen."
Lady Frances rose calmly from her chair. "And I shall represent the ladies."
Mr Ashcombe turned at once to Darcy. "You cannot mean to permit this. A fencing bout between a gentleman and a lady is entirely improper."
"They will use buttoned foils and wear masks," Darcy replied. "No one will be attempting to draw blood. I can see no reasonable objection."
Mr Ashcombe's mouth tightened. He looked back at Lady Frances and gave her a stiff bow. "I have made every effort to protect your dignity, madam. Since you insist upon proceeding, however, you cannot expect me to show you any indulgence. I shall have no scruple in beating you soundly."
"I should be most disappointed if you gave an inch, sir," said Lady Frances, her smile looking decidedly dangerous.
Servants were sent to prepare the fencing ground while the archery butts were placed at the far end of the lawn.
A rack of bows was carried from the house, followed by several bundles of arrows and leather guards.
Elizabeth had begun considering how best to arrange the ladies when Lady Hortensia called her back.
"Miss Elizabeth. Mr Darcy. I require you both to inspect the archery equipment before the contest begins."
Darcy looked towards the rack. "Every bow?"
"Every bow and every arrow." Lady Hortensia's expression had grown unusually firm.
"The matter caused a considerable disturbance at a previous gathering.
Accusations were made after the contest, tempers were lost and an otherwise pleasant afternoon was quite ruined.
I shall not have the same nonsense repeated. "
"You are the captains," Lady Hortensia continued. "You will examine the equipment together and agree that it is fit for use before a single arrow is loosed. Mr Pritchard will record your approval in the ledger, and when one side loses, they may do so without accusing the other of sabotage."
???
Once the others had moved away to discuss the fencing arrangements, Elizabeth and Darcy were left beside the rack of bows, with only Mr Pritchard at a discreet distance, waiting to record their approval.
A servant had laid the arrows upon the table in neat bundles, and Darcy took up the first bow while Elizabeth examined the string and grip on the second.
For several moments neither spoke. The quiet between them seemed deafening to Elizabeth and she could no longer still her tongue. "I ought to apologise," Elizabeth began.
Darcy looked up at the same moment. "You have nothing to apologise for. If I had behaved like a gentleman ought..."
She lowered her eyes to the bow in her hands. "I should not have allowed matters to go so far."
"No." His answer came quickly. "The fault was mine."
Elizabeth looked at him then and felt his eyes hot against her skin. "I do not think either of us can claim the whole of it."
His gaze held hers for a moment before he set down the bow he had been examining. "Then perhaps it would be best if we agreed to forget the matter entirely."
She had expected him to say something of the kind. It was sensible and would spare them both further embarrassment. Even so, the ease with which he dismissed it caught her strangely unprepared. She felt a pang of disappointment that she did her best to push down and ignore.
"Yes," she said in a voice that seemed strangely stilted to her ears. "That would be best."
Darcy inclined his head and reached for another bow.
Elizabeth did the same, though she found herself checking the string twice before realising she had already done so.
She could feel his presence beside her with an awareness that made the simplest movement difficult, from the brush of his sleeve against hers to the low sound of his breathing when he bent to examine the grip.
After a moment, Darcy said, "I believe this one is sound."
"As is this one," she breathed.
Their hands met as they both reached to return their bows to the rack. Neither moved at once. His fingers rested lightly against hers, warm and still, and the memory of his hand closing around hers upon the terrace returned with such force that Elizabeth's breath caught.
Darcy withdrew first. "Forgive me."
Elizabeth almost laughed, though her voice was soft and sincere when she replied. "We appear determined to spend the morning apologising to one another."
His expression changed, the severity leaving it as his eyes dropped briefly to her mouth before returning to hers. "Then let us stop. We must stop."
"Agreed," she answered, not quite certain what she was agreeing to.
They both returned to their work. Darcy took a step away from her before reaching for the next bow, and if Elizabeth was uneasy at the distance he had placed between them, she gave no outward sign of it.