Chapter 2
When her father tapped on her door, Elizabeth woke refreshed.
Moving the curtain away from the window, not a glimpse of light appeared on the horizon.
Lighting a candle, she took her time washing, selecting a practical, comfortable garment in her favorite shade of blue, and braiding her hair simply.
Peering into the mirror, confidence reflected back.
And anticipation. Squaring her shoulders, she could not help but wonder how well Mr. Darcy slept.
Was he as rested, eager to duel? She thought not.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she easily recalled the instant Mr. Darcy walked into the assembly.
He caught her eye. Thick hair and eyes so dark they looked black.
Broad shoulders, large hands, and chiseled features that matched the man of her dreams, whom she eventually hoped to marry.
His words crushed her heart and those dreams. How could he be so handsome and cruel at the same time?
The more she thought about Mr. Darcy, the more her ire rose. Breathing deeply to calm herself, she refused to let her emotions get the better of her. The task at hand required her to be sharp.
Mr. Darcy had found her tolerable at best. Today, she would prove to him what a woman of no consequence could do. Satisfaction curved her lips.
Gathering her shawl, she joined her father in his library, where he was enjoying a steaming cup of tea.
“If you do not mind satisfying my curiosity, I wondered, did anyone other than you happen to hear Mr. Darcy’s insult?”
Elizabeth easily recalled the setting. “I heard the whispers. Likely the tale spread throughout the room before I departed. The music was starting for the next set. Charlotte had crossed the room to speak with her sister, Mr. Bingley was talking to Jane, and Mr. Bingley’s family were by the drinks table.
When I issued my challenge, I made certain I whispered low enough that only he might hear. ”
He nodded. “Very good. We would not want a crowd to appear at Netherfield. Nor do I desire your mother and sisters to know. This situation needs to remain between the two of you and the seconds.”
Elizabeth pondered his wish. “I cannot know if he spoke with Mr. Bingley.”
“If so, we will deal with it accordingly.” Pushing himself up from his chair, he held his arm out to Elizabeth. “Your weapons are already in the carriage, my dear girl. I checked them thoroughly. Are you ready?”
“As I will ever be.”
Her father chuckled under his breath. “I wonder what weapons Mr. Darcy will bring to the field. No doubt, whatever they are, they will be the best money can buy.”
“No doubt.”
Kissing his cheek, excitement built in Elizabeth’s chest as they rode in comfortable silence toward Netherfield Park.
In the pre-dawn darkness, mist rose from the ground.
They arrived early, using a lantern to locate the exact area in the field they needed to set up.
Their driver and a groom helped them carry all they needed to a table they brought.
Elizabeth carefully arranged her weapons, positioning them for easy access.
This would be civilized warfare, though the swirling fog around the table and themselves created an eerie atmosphere that bespoke of secret strategies and schemes.
The field was empty. Fortunately, their wait for Elizabeth’s opponent was not long.
The pre-dawn darkness shifted to gray light. Mist rolled across the field in waves. Silhouettes emerged from the fog; the Bennets were already there.
Darcy’s cousin, who joined him only minutes before he departed from Netherfield Park, caught Darcy’s arm.
“Explain,” Richard demanded. “Why has an old man challenged you?”
“Not him.” Darcy’s jaw clenched. The shame sat like a stone in his chest. “Her. She challenged me.”
“Good lord, Darcy! A woman?”
Darcy closed his eyes briefly, unable to meet his cousin’s stare. “Yes.”
“You accepted a challenge from a woman?” Richard’s voice rose with disbelief. “Have you lost your mind? What could possibly…”
“I insulted her last evening at a blasted assembly. She overheard.”
“You insulted…” Richard stared at him as if he’d sprouted a second head. “Darcy, men do not duel women. Ever. For any reason. And women do not demand satisfaction from a gentleman. What in God’s name did you say to make her…”
“‘She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me.’” Even repeating the words made his face burn with shame.
His cousin fell silent, his expression shifting from shock to something closer to disgust. “You said that? Within her hearing?”
Darcy wanted to make his cousin understand the impossible position he had been placed in, but there was no justification. No explanation that would make this right.
“Yes,” he said simply. “I did.”
Richard stared at him. As they drew closer, he could see what a remarkably featured woman stood waiting. “Are you blind?”
“Apparently, I was. I did not truly look at her. I glimpsed an outdated gown and worn slippers. I made a judgment in a moment of arrogance.” Darcy pulled away, riding toward the edge of the field.
“Good god in heaven, Darcy!” Richard threw his hands in the air, startling his horse.
“I rode through the night thinking I would be standing second while you faced pistols. I suspected that George Wickham finally provoked you to act. I was proud of you for doing so, while at the same time scheming how I could have my share of vengeance against him.”
Darcy said nothing. Could he feel any smaller?
“You will not harm her person,” Richard stated with certainty.
“Never.”
The dueling pistols in their wooden case were tied tightly on the saddle behind him.
Deadly armaments that were intended to take a life rather than injure.
They were his fathers. Always available.
Never used. His sword was in Richard’s scabbard, bouncing against his cousin’s leg with each step their mounts took through the wet grass.
He had wounded her. Now, she intended to wound him.
The Bennets’ carriage horses nickered softly. Birds began to wake.
Dismounting, they tied their horses to a shrub before walking across the grass.
Revulsion covered his cousin’s face. Darcy’s countenance surely reflected the same.
He shuddered. He was responsible for getting himself into this muddle. Never should he have made a derogatory comment about a lady, especially one who, upon second notice, was far lovelier than he first observed.
In the mist, the rising sun glistened in her eyes, which were lovely. Her form was light and pleasing. Her spirit was sheer determination.
The incongruity struck Darcy. If she were as skilled as her confidence suggested, this could be the end for him.
Even a wound could fester and be deadly.
Never would he marry or father children.
He would not see his sister’s presentation or escort her down the aisle when she wed.
He would never know the future of his beloved estate, Pemberley.
Blast! This was in every way an unsavory business.
He was an idiot.
Stopping a distance away, Darcy bent to place the pistols on the ground.
Holding up his palms, he sued for peace.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet, I offer my sincerest apologies for my harsh, undeserving words at the assembly. I was wrong to say what I did. I was wrong to even think about saying hurtful words against anyone.” He stepped away from the wooden box.
“With that said, I will offer no resistance to you. You may exact your retribution as you will.”
Richard rested the sword next to the box, then stepped back.
When neither Bennet responded, the tension was so thick it was palpable. Her expression did not soften. If anything, her eyes grew colder. “Your apology is noted, Mr. Darcy. But words, as I believe you will agree, come easy. I require tangible proof that you are a gentleman, as you claim.”
“Name it.”
The Bennets stepped apart, revealing a small table behind them. “Your humiliation, sir. Witnessed and complete.”
Two chairs flanked the table. What on earth? Shock and confusion gave way to a dawning realization.
Richard gasped at seeing the chessboard.
Slower than usual, Darcy’s confusion gave way to understanding. She proposed an intellectual skirmish. No bloodshed. Thank God!
Rubbing his hand over his mouth, he admired her cleverness.
His eyes traveled from the weapons box to the table to the board. The pieces were lined up alongside, waiting to be set in place.
What did this mean about her character? Her intelligence? Her strategy? This shift from physical danger to intellectual combat was somehow more terrifying.
Her eyes were bright. Alert. He knew from glancing in the mirror before they departed Netherfield Park that his face was pale, mind and body exhausted.
The fabric of her skirt rustled when she moved to take a seat, her father standing behind her. She stripped off her gloves, her fingertips tapping on the edge of the board.
Richard stepped forward, grinning at the absurdity. “I must say, in all my years in the military service, this is the most unusual challenge I have ever witnessed.”
“Then you are a fortunate soldier, Colonel,” Mr. Bennet replied dryly. “Most duels end in blood. This will end in education.”
Elizabeth stared at Darcy, ignoring Richard.
Formal introductions were an absurdity of politeness in this moment.
Mr. Bennet gestured to the empty seat in front of the white pieces.
“Elizabeth, my second daughter, has been learning to play since the age of ten. She is a proficient, I believe. Since you shall start first, we shall see what sort of chess master you are, Mr. Darcy.”
Elizabeth added, “The terms are simple. Best-of-three games if we tie after the first two. Otherwise, the first to win two games will be declared the winner. We all know what that will make the opponent.”
“The loser,” Richard offered unnecessarily.
Darcy barely responded, still reeling. He sat, facing her. The cold seeped through their clothing, their breath visible in the air. Dew on the grass dampened their boots. Her hem must be soaked. Uncomfortable. Yet, poise and delight best described her persona.
Like her, he removed his gloves. The last thing he needed was to be clumsy.
Darcy bowed. “I accept your terms, Miss Bennet. We will have our battle.”
Richard and Mr. Bennet stood behind the chairs as seconds. The weight of what was about to happen settled on Darcy’s shoulders. Under typical circumstances, he enjoyed playing chess, especially with someone who knew the game well.
Seeing determination, he knew what she saw—weariness, guilt, and uncertainty. He knew he was not at his best. But he needed to be.
Sitting erect, he cleared his throat, rubbing his palms on his trouser legs.
In the absolute stillness, she said, “Sir, shall we begin? Or do you require time to prepare yourself?”
He placed the white pieces on the board, then waited for her to do the same with the black. When she was done, he rotated the board so she would have the initial move.
“Ladies first.”
Her brow arched. Her hand hovered over a pawn. He waited impatiently for her to make her move.
Elizabeth opened with the King’s Pawn, an aggressive, classical move. “Did you attend Cambridge or Oxford, sir?”
“Cambridge.”
“I see.” She placed the piece with deliberate precision. “Did they teach strategy there, or merely arrogance?”
She spied a hint of red at the top of his ears.
Darcy mirrored her move, a standard response. She noted his discomfort, his distraction.
Her next move was her bishop to the weak square near his king. It was a bold move since a knowledgeable player would recognize the threat. She could see that his mind was elsewhere, the way his eyes darted from the board to her face and back. Was he reflecting on his guilt? Her anger?
He moved his knight, a reasonable move, though it placed him in danger.
“Your move was…adequate, Mr. Darcy. Much like your manners at the assembly, I suppose.”
He jerked back, apparently stung. “Miss Bennet, I have said you deserve to say your worst. I shall not defend myself.”
The colonel hovered over his shoulder, studying the board. “Darcy, you need to concentrate.”
Quickly, Elizabeth moved to queen, setting up the killing blow, threatening both the pawn and checkmate. If he were not tired or distracted, even a beginning player would recognize the strategy.
He attacked the queen, a fatal blunder.
“Sir, I wonder, can you see the next move? Or do you simply assume your superiority will carry the day?”
He frowned, studying the board. But it was too late.
Sliding her queen across the board, his king could not escape. Total devastation in four moves. “Checkmate.”
Her father clapped. “Less than five minutes, Lizzy.”
“I confess, I expected you to last at least six, Mr. Darcy. You obviously have bodily strength—you made it to the field of battle this morning. You obviously lack heart, sir. Is your brain absent as well?” She could hear the ice in her voice.
“But then, you did say I was merely tolerable. Did you assume a country miss could pose no real challenge? Or were your disappointingly abysmal moves a deliberate ploy to give me the win to assuage your guilt?”
He was quiet. “You won fairly.”
She began resetting the pieces into position. “Is this a habit of yours, assuming your superiority without bothering to prove it?”
Mr. Darcy leaned back from the table. “I have been foolish. You set the trap perfectly, and I walked right into it of my own volition. Four moves to checkmate. My father and my tutors would be ashamed.” He looked at Elizabeth.
“The move is called Fool’s Mate for a reason, I fear.
I learned it when I was barely out of leading strings.
Therefore, do not spare me your ire, I beg you. ”
Elizabeth noted his vulnerability. Her heart softened, but she crushed it ruthlessly. She would not be moved. Not yet. “Shall we proceed to game two, Mr. Darcy? Or would you prefer to forfeit now? I would be disappointed. It is not often that I am able to play someone other than my father.”
“You have earned the right to defeat me as thoroughly as you wish. I will not forfeit, Miss Bennet. With that said, this time, I will keep my mind on the game.”
Richard said, “Good heavens, Darcy. Where were you?”
His eyes still on her, he replied, “Elsewhere. But I am focused now.”
Tipping her head to the side, she studied him as closely as he was staring at her. “Before we begin our second game, I must ask. Did you honestly believe I meant to take your life or draw first blood?”
He closed his eyes, and his head bowed. Inhaling deeply, he regained his composure.
“In truth, I had no idea what to expect. Being prepared for any eventuality is my nature.”
“I see.” Elizabeth selected the black pieces and moved them into place. “This time, you shall begin, Mr. Darcy.”