Chapter 4 #2
“Like chess.” Hope flared in Darcy’s chest.
“Exactly. You need to understand your opponent, anticipate her moves, and plan several steps ahead.”
“I need to show her, not tell her,” Darcy mumbled.
“Show her what?” Richard set down his glass.
“That I truly see her. That I comprehend my error and why it was wrong. That I am willing to…” He paused, searching for the proper words. “Willing to work for her regard, to become the man who deserves her.”
“How?” Richard’s palms turned up.
Darcy pressed his fingers together to give his cousin no hint at his agitation. His mind raced. He needed… He wanted… Suddenly, an image from the game fell into place. Not of what was, but what could have been.
“I need pen and paper.” He looked at Richard. “And I need you to stop asking questions.”
“Ha!” Richard grinned. “Now you sound like the Darcy we know and love. Decisive. Resolute. Authoritative with a hint of tyranny.”
“Go find Bingley and tease him, Cousin.”
“If only I could. I need to return to my regiment.” Richard moved toward the door, then paused. “For what it’s worth, I studied her as she played. She is everything you believe and more.”
His last comment stopped Darcy in his tracks. “What do you mean?”
“Did you not hear the little comments her father made to encourage her? When she looked at him, she displayed loving devotion and fierce pride. She did not gloat when the game proceeded exactly as she anticipated. And Darcy—” Richard met his eyes.
“There was no hatred in her eyes when she looked at you across the table. Challenge, certainly. But she does not loathe your very being. In principle, she reached her goal of bringing you to your knees without any idea that you would end up wanting to propose to her. All in all, I think she is worth your effort.”
“I thank you, Richard. Your opinion and support mean everything.”
His cousin gestured toward him. “I rode into that field this morning expecting to see you defend your values and your life. Instead, I saw you find your purpose. And your future.” Saluting, he added, “Be well, Darcy. I wish you success.”
After Richard departed, Darcy sat at his desk. For the first time since the early hours of the morning, his restless energy had direction. Or as Richard said, purpose.
Gathering paper and pen, he knew exactly how to begin.
Elizabeth and her father entered Longbourn in time to break their fast with the only other occupant of the breakfast room, Mrs. Francine Bennet.
“You never have any care for my nerves! Where on earth have you been at this hour? You might have caught a chill, Mr. Bennet. Where would I be if you died today?”
Her father bussed his wife on the cheek before taking his seat at the head of the table.
“Lizzy gathered information last evening at the assembly that Mr. Bingley is housing a chess master. Neither of us could wait for a proper introduction. Therefore, we set out early only to discover we were in error.” He gestured to one of the platters.
“Do leave me some ham, my dear, Mrs. Bennet. Our exertion has left me famished.”
“Mr. Bennet, how you delight in tormenting me.” Her mother scoffed.
“You presumed to go to Netherfield Park early after a public ball? Why, what were you thinking?” Her gaze sharpened.
“Did you happen to see Mr. Bingley?” Flinging her hands into the air, her volume rose accordingly. “You should have taken Jane.”
Her father lightly patted the back of her wrist. “As it was, there was no need for Jane. We saw two men in the field who informed us that we were mistaken. While we saw the house, we never spotted Mr. Bingley or his sisters.”
“Oh, I see.” Calmed, her mother’s critical eye scanned Elizabeth, who was seated to her father’s right.
“I say, it is a fine thing that you were unseen since that gown is at least two years old and is as plain as plain could be. I fear that if Mr. Darcy were to see you today, he would be even more scathing with his opinions.”
Elizabeth’s hand shook at the mention of Mr. Darcy’s name, threatening her tea.
Mr. Darcy! The fury that sustained her through the morning had burned itself out during the games. What remained was…she was unsure. Not hatred. Not quite liking either. Perhaps it was closer to…neutrality? Wariness?
No, not even that. Whatever complicated feeling threaded through her heart was uncertain, nothing she could name.
“Mr. Darcy’s opinions are none of my concern, Mama.”
Her mother’s eyebrows shot up. “Well! Last night, our neighbors could speak of nothing else.”
Elizabeth said, “I am less angry this morning, Mama. I hope the talk will die down soon.”
Her mother’s countenance eased. “That is good and well, Lizzy, for while Mr. Darcy was cruel in his assessment—and do not think I have forgiven him for it, Lizzy, for I have not—he is Mr. Bingley’s guest and friend. His closest friend, from what Miss Bingley claims.”
“Mama, what does that signify?” Elizabeth asked, though she suspected this would lead back to Jane, as always.
“It signifies that you must not do anything to alienate the man, even if you feel justified.” Her mother reached for the jam.
“Mr. Bingley danced with Jane twice last evening, showing his preference. Anyone with eyes can see that he is already devoted.” She pointed her knife at Elizabeth.
“If you set yourself against Mr. Darcy, if you create discord and discomfort, it would affect Jane’s chances. ”
Elizabeth set down her teacup, her appetite disappearing like the mist.
“Moreover,” her mother said, warming to the subject, “consider Agnes Long and Mildred Goulding. They have been at each other’s throats for at least twenty years.
When they are together in company, it creates tension in the room.
Neither of them has any peace. Nor does anyone around them.
They likely do not recall what set them off in the first place, but the feud has overshadowed their entire existence. ”
Elizabeth hated to be in the same room with the two ladies. They snipped at each other, wanting nothing more than to make every mutual acquaintance choose sides or navigate carefully between them.
“Do you want others to feel about you like you do Agnes and Mildred? Forever at odds with Mr. Darcy, forever creating tension wherever you go, that he might happen to be? And for what? A thoughtless comment overheard at an assembly?”
“A thoughtless comment slips out unguarded, Mama. Mr. Darcy looked directly at me, ensured I could hear him, and then delivered his assessment. That was deliberate.”
Her father cleared his throat, a subtle reminder that she now had evidence that Mr. Darcy possessed redeeming qualities. He was a gentleman, though a flawed one.
“I am not asking you to like him, Lizzy. Heaven knows he has given you little reason to think highly of him. For Jane’s sake, for your own peace of mind, can you not simply be civil?
Polite when necessary?” Her mother added, “Besides, a man with ten thousand a year cannot be entirely without merit. Perhaps his behavior at the assembly was merely unfortunate timing. First impressions are not always accurate, you know.”
Elizabeth blinked. It was possibly the most reasonable thing her mother had ever said.
She stared at her cooling tea, her mother’s words settling over her like a dark cloud.
Even with the new information gained during the chess games, what would the social cost be if she allowed her injured pride to fester into a severe wound that would never heal?
Jane. Sweet, gentle Jane, who deserved every happiness, had looked at Mr. Bingley like he hung the moon.
Could Elizabeth’s stubbornness, her refusal to move past her initial pain, damage her sister’s chances? Mr. Bingley clearly valued Mr. Darcy’s opinion. If Mr. Darcy spoke against the Bennets, against an alliance between his friend and Jane…
Elizabeth’s hands clasped tightly in her lap under the table. The simple truth was that she would never forgive herself if her vanity cost Jane happiness.
“Very well, Mother. I cannot pretend the insult did not happen, nor will I smile and simper and act as if I was too silly to discern the sharpness of his arrow.” Forcibly easing the tightness of her jaw, she added, “Since civility costs nothing and preserves much, I will no longer view him as my enemy. Instead, I will be polite when necessary, for Jane’s sake.
” Nothing more than that. Nothing less either. Only for Jane.
“And who knows?” her mother said. “Perhaps once Mr. Darcy knows you better, he will revise his opinion. Men have been known to change their minds when given enough reason to do so.”
Elizabeth doubted that very much. And yet, as she refreshed her tea, she found herself remembering her father’s words in the carriage. A man worth knowing. Capable of learning. Underneath his pride. Time will tell.
Was this a possibility? She had not a clue.
The graphite felt foreign in Darcy’s hands. Watercolor supplies were at the ready. His skills were rusty. He had not drawn since he was in school. Fortunately, his mental image was clear.
Her wrist. The narrow lace trim of her cornflower blue sleeve. The narrowness of her fingers when she reached for the queen.
His first line was hesitant. He crumpled the paper and began again. This would take time. Patience. Dedication. He had all three in abundance.
For her.