25. Matlock House—Friday, 5 January 1810
Darcy tugged down his waistcoat and adjusted his cuffs.
It was not as if his valet had not done a perfect job with his clothing, as usual. It was merely that Darcy did not know what to do with his hands while he waited for Elizabeth.
He was relieved that his aunt’s Twelfth Night gathering would be family-only this year.
Normally he would be fiddling with waistcoat and cuffs in utter dread of being under a microscope by two hundred or so of society’s “finest”—including matchmaking mamas and young ladies who had been scrupulously taught to have no opinions of their own.
No, this particular Twelfth Night celebration would be only thirty attendees and no matchmaking whatsoever.
And a certain parlour game which he was anticipating with a smile.
Ah! There she is!
Elizabeth looked regal in deep red, again with pearl accents in her hair, ears, and throat. She wore the five gold rings on her right hand, he was satisfied to see.
“You look lovely, dearest Elizabeth,” he murmured into her hair when he reached her.
“You look even more handsome than is humanly possible,” she said.
He laughed and shook his head. “No, if I look well turned out, it is thanks to the efforts of my valet, but that is all.”
“That is not all. You are not the arbiter of your own handsomeness, William.”
Richard descended on them at that point, being as silly as his role called for.
“Hello, cousin Darcy,” he said, looking straight into Elizabeth’s eyes.
“You must have joined the Army at last, given your red attire! And Miss Elizabeth!” he said as he turned to William and looked him up and down.
“You look radiant in your sternest, most severe gown.”
Richard’s reversals were a bit humorous and a lot ridiculous. Darcy flitted his eyes upwards and muttered, “Spare us this travesty of Misrule, please!”
When the countess’s sister and brother and their families arrived, Richard called for charades and then snapdragon.
During the hilarity, guests sipped punch and drinking chocolate, and Lord Parker somehow already managed to slur words and stumble a bit.
Darcy procured a cup of coffee for his aunt’s brother and urged him to drink it while he related a story about hunting, which was something Darcy never did and Lord Parker, contrariwise, seemed to live for.
They sat down to Twelfth-Night Pie, which offered delicious minced meat and shredded pippin apples, plus raisins, currents, sugar, and brandy. “It is quite like a meaty version of snapdragon,” Jane said.
“But not currently on fire, thank goodness,” Elizabeth commented.
The second course was a deeply spiced stew, and last came the Twelfth Night Cake. Georgiana found the dried pea and was dubbed Queen for the night, and Richard’s first cousin on his maternal line, a boy named Alexander, found the fava bean and was, therefore, her King.
“How do I look?” Georgiana asked as she carefully anchored the paper crown among her curls.
“Very royal,” Elizabeth said.
“Our next game,” Richard said with all the gravitas of a court jester, “is Hunt the Ring. Does everyone know how to play?”
The youngest among the group did not, so Richard explained that the players would sit in a large circle, holding behind their backs a long string tied into a loop.
“On the string will be a ring, and the idea is to pass the ring, whenever you get it from your right, to your left as quickly as you might, or you might have to forfeit your own ring.” He went on to say that, when the music stopped, the person in the middle had to guess who had the ring.
If they guessed correctly, they would take their place in the circle, and the person stuck with the ring would be in forfeit status as well as having to move into the centre.
“Who needs a ring to wear?” the Countess asked. She had a bowl full of brass rings, and the children and Jane each claimed one.
The countess asked her sister-in-law to play the pianoforte, and during the first round, everyone looked so intent while passing the ring, the person stuck with the ring—the young Viscount Blakely—was immediately and correctly identified.
He lost his signet ring to the special forfeit bowl and took his place in the middle of the circle.
Round and round went the ring again, and when the music finally stopped, Blakely had no idea who had the ring. He guessed Richard but was wrong. The next round, however, he correctly guessed that Georgiana had the ring.
She took off her silver-and-opal ring and took her place in the centre of the circle. The music stopped, and she carefully studied everyone’s face before saying, “Elizabeth.”
“Oh, dear!” Elizabeth said. Richard stuck out his hand—he was keeping the forfeit bowl near him—and she took off one of her slim gold bands.
“Oh, dear, you say, and then you attempt to circumvent the rules? When one wears five gold rings on a single finger, they all act together as one ring. So…all five, if you do not mind…or even if you do!”
She handed over the other four gold rings and then exchanged places with Georgiana.
It took three rounds for Elizabeth to guess correctly, but those rounds passed with a great deal of hilarity as she made running commentary as the ring was passed, offered charming comments on which people should look into becoming spies because of their impressive accomplishments in deceit, and related tragic vignettes when she guessed incorrectly.
She rejoined the circle when a little girl named Mary looked very guilty.
Mary did not mind giving up her brass ring but begged for her father to accompany her into the centre.
Richard pretended to think long and hard (for perhaps fourteen seconds) about whether or not to allow this rule change, but of course he did allow it, and the father-daughter duo were soon released from duty as they guessed who had the ring correctly on their first try.
The game continued for another half hour, because Richard and Elizabeth managed to make it more entertaining, even, than a mummers’ performance.
Once they ceased with the ring-on-a-string portion of the game, people chanted, “Forfeits, forfeits, forfeits!”
Little Mary’s forfeit was to say her name backwards (she carefully said, “Fletcher, Alexandra, Grace, Mary” to riotous applause), and other guests had to redeem their rings by reciting the alphabet backwards, drawing a portrait of the earl with their eyes covered, and freezing in a funny pose dictated by the group for one minute.
Georgiana had to walk across the room with a spoon in her mouth, holding a wrapped candy on the spoon.
She dropped the candy twice and had to go back to the start, but she somehow managed not to laugh the third time and was able to sit down, reunited with her opal ring and with a blush still pinking her cheeks.
The Viscount Blakely easily won back his signet ring by standing face-to-face with Richard, emulating his funny faces without laughing.
It was Elizabeth’s turn. She stood up and said, “I hope you saved the best for last. I am last, am I not?”
“You are last, but never least,” Richard said gallantly. “Your forfeit is that you must be a town crier. You must stand on this chair and spread the horrible news of the latest scandal of Miss Henrietta Honeycutt. Entertain me, or I shall make you do another forfeit.”
“Goodness, I believe that the Lord of Misrule has allowed his power to eclipse his morality. Nevertheless, despite your tyranny, I will attempt to entertain you—and I will succeed!”
Elizabeth could not step up to the seat of the chair, given the dimensions of her dress, and Darcy gladly helped her. “This might be the only chance I have tonight,” he whispered in her ear as he picked her up around the waist and simply placed her on the chair.
Looking around, Elizabeth saw Lord Parker’s grandson had a tricorn hat, and she asked if she might wear it to look the part of a town crier. William handed up his coat, as well.
When she was suitably outfitted, Elizabeth called out, “Oyez! Oyez! Draw near and give ear!”
Everyone clustered around her, especially the owner of the tricorn hat, who looked sceptical of ever getting it back.
She chanted her news flash, clearly making it up as she went: “Reports have surfaced that the scandalous Miss Henrietta Honeycutt—known up until now because she wears on her hats small birdcages with live finches inside, and because she created the scandal sheet that revealed the shocking vegetable-eating habits of every member of the royal family—has now been implicated in yet another scandal! Miss Honeycutt attended the grand ball at Almack’s and, whilst dancing with the Duke of Downtrodden, replaced his quizzing glass with an eyeglass containing a portrait of herself!
Sadly, the Duke, who now sees Miss Honeycutt everywhere he goes, has affianced himself to her… .”
“You have done it, Miss Elizabeth! You may cease at any time,” Richard called; he had been roaring with laughter since the birdcage hat.
Elizabeth stopped spinning tales about a fictional lady and her fictional ducal suitor, but she did not attempt to climb down yet. Instead, she finished with the traditional cry, “God save the King!”
Then she indicated that she was ready to get down from the chair.
Darcy revelled in the feel of her even for the few moments it took to put her on the ground.
Elizabeth hurried to restore the tricorn hat to its rightful owner, and then she slipped off Darcy’s coat.
“Thank you for the disguise,” she said. “Now, where are my rings?”
Richard handed Elizabeth the bowl, and Darcy realised that every eye was on her, and every voice had hushed.
“My rings are not here,” Elizabeth said. Her astonishment was apparent.
“What do you mean they are not there?” Richard asked. “Five gold rings, exactly what you put into the forfeit bowl.”
“But—”
Elizabeth paused, sent a brief glance at Darcy, and then finished, “But these rings have stones. Mine did not.”
“Could it be magic?” Georgiana asked. Her voice was soft and sweet, and there was no obvious clue that she knew the scheme that Darcy had planned.
Elizabeth laughed but then said, “Whoever these belong to should step up and claim them.”
Nobody did, of course.
Darcy had no idea what to do with his face, but he had often been told that he was quite the master of the non-expressive mien, and he had the feeling that even Elizabeth was finding it challenging to tell what he was thinking and feeling.
Jane had not been told the scheme, but she said, “Wait, Lizzy. What are the stones?”
“There is an opal, a diamond, I imagine a ruby, but possibly a garnet, amethyst, and emerald.”
Jane thought for a second and then said, “Adore.” She turned to Darcy and said, “Well done, sir. I mean Darcy.”
Elizabeth just sat there, staring at Darcy, her mouth slightly open, clearly feeling either confused or surprised.
Jane stood and stepped close to her sister. She threaded the rings on her finger, and then said, “A - D - O - R - E, adore. Who do you suppose tampered with this game to give you this gift? Here is a hint: apparently, it is someone who adores you.”
A collective sigh emerged from every lady’s throat, and at least one little girl’s, as well. Darcy smiled and held his hands out, and Elizabeth threw herself into them with instructions to hide her because she was certainly about to cry.
He whisked her to a balcony, and he was happy that Georgiana and Jane stood in the room where they were also able to see whatever was happening on the balcony. He said, “Surprise! I should have attempted to find out ahead of time…do you like surprises?”
“I love this surprise,” she answered, and she kissed him with a passion that shocked him. After a few moments, Jane coughed, Georgiana giggled, and Darcy murmured, “I adore you, Elizabeth. But our sisters are letting us know that we need to stop…for now.”
She pulled away and said, “One more fortnight. I suppose I can manage. Maybe.”
“We both will,” Darcy said. “But I am the one who will be marrying a prize above gems.”
“I do not wish to destroy your delusion, but I am the fortunate one here,” Elizabeth said.
They did not agree to disagree, this time, but nor did they restate their disagreement.
They merely stayed close for the remainder of the party, said good night and boarded their separate carriages, each with their own sister, and smiled at the knowledge that, in just one fortnight, they would be married and no longer have to separate.
Darcy steeled himself to bear the wait.