Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Somewhere inside Fitzwilliam Darcy on that idyllic summer afternoon there dwelt a spoilt, petulant little boy who cried out to be set free from the captivity of duty and obligation, even for another hour or two.
The boy would fling down the pen, crumple up the tally sheet, toss off his hat, and struggle to remove his restraining coat and cravat.
After unfastening the button at his neck and rolling up his sleeves, young and carefree, he would race across the lawn to join the game.
“You have been caught wool-gathering, Mr Darcy.” Sitting at the table beside him, Miss Wright leant in.
“Your team has had a run of five or more consecutive hits which you have not yet recorded. Were I not such an honest person, I might not have mentioned it, for Miss Hughes and my bookish sister have had to start anew. Did you not notice what just occurred before your very eyes? How could you not have heard the shouts and cries of dismay?”
No, he had not recorded the latest tally.
Yes, he had been aware of a commotion, but the young ladies had been cheerfully vocal from the onset of the game.
Unhappily aware that he was about to prevaricate, Darcy said, “My apologies. A pressing matter has been occupying my mind.” Not one to wallow in self-pity, he figuratively rolled down his sleeves and pushed the poor little rich boy back into the box. “What have I missed?”
Tapping her pen upon the table, Miss Wright heaved an exaggerated sigh.
“Miss Hughes missed a shot, and before you could say Jack Robinson, that wicked cat slinked in, jumped into the air, caught their falling shuttlecock in its claws, then bolted away with the prized bird clutched in its nasty little mouth. That creature is an absolute annoyance. And that dog and its deep, intimidating bark! Rector keeps lumbering round between your poor sister and her partner, and I fear Miss Darcy is in danger of being tripped by him. Both animals should have been banished to the stable.”
“Georgiana’s dog, whose name is Hector not Rector, is protective of her.”
Miss Althea came over to the table. “We need a new shuttlecock.” After taking one of the spare projectiles created from chicken feathers pushed into a ball of cork, she turned on her heel.
Customarily the game of battledore and shuttlecock was more about cooperation than competition, but it had been Darcy’s bright idea to make it more interesting by dividing the four young ladies into two teams. Instead of pitting Strandsmere Park against Cliff House, he had partnered Miss Hughes with Miss Althea and Georgiana with Elizabeth, each pair attempting to keep their shuttlecock in the air the longest. Seeing the latter two laughing together and playing with graceful finesse gave him considerable pleasure but fanciful visions of the future.
Turning his attention more fully to the game again, he offered encouragement to the players, often smiling despite Miss Wright’s repeated attempts to distract him from feasting his eyes upon Elizabeth.
“The dear girl plays with such impressive delicacy and skill, does she not, Mr Darcy? I mean, of course, your sister. Her partner has not the same sort of refined, genteel manner. Miss Bennet’s mode is more an energetic, enthusiastic confidence.”
“Perhaps.” Darcy marked on his paper another five consecutive hits for his team. “However, I should think that in such a sport, energy and enthusiasm would triumph over delicacy. Should you not be recording your own team’s latest tally?”
In an apparent sulk, Miss Wright made a series of scratches on her sheet, but her pencil slid across the paper and made an ugly mark when Darcy suddenly stood and called out, “Bravo, Miss Althea! What an achievement! Truly a feather in your cap, or rather Miss Hughes’s.
” For Miss Wright’s benefit, he gestured at Miss Hughes’s bonnet wherein her team’s shuttlecock had become lodged.
“Oh dear!” Laughing and reaching up, Miss Hughes retrieved the bird. “How feather-headed I am!”
Everyone had a good chuckle at that, save for Miss Wright who seemed to be suffering from ennui.
“Are you not diverted, Miss Wright?” asked Darcy, still standing and enjoying the show.
“Oh yes, I am having an absolutely grand time.”
“Then shall we forget about keeping tally?” He picked up two battledores and passed one to Miss Wright. “Come.” He bounced a shuttlecock upon his palm. “Let us join the fun.”
“Surely you jest, sir.” Disregarding the proffered paddle, Miss Wright turned sideways on her seat and raised her hem sufficiently to display a pair of turquoise-coloured kid-leather boots with orange satin laces, astonishing to the eye.
“These bespoke boots cost two pounds, so no, I shall not be playing games while wearing them. By the by”—she fidgeted with a ribbon beneath her chin—“this lovely bonnet was purchased at a millinery shop on New Bond Street. Do you like it? It is the latest fashion, I assure you.”
Regaining his seat, Darcy frowned, for he knew not what to say. Never before had he been asked to comment on a lady’s bonnet. With its high crown and feathers so abundant, the hat resembled nothing so much as a shuttlecock. The ribbon was pretty, though.
“I think you do not fancy it, sir. No matter. Having never re-trimmed a bonnet in my entire life, I shall give it to Meg, though she does not care much for finery.”
Having heard rumours about the Wright family having to retrench, Darcy wondered at her extravagance. The hideous bonnet might never again be worn, and her boots were not only costly but, apparently, impractical for outdoor pastimes.
Upon his team’s approach, he stood.
“Brother, our opponents have conceded defeat.” Georgiana’s eyes sparkled with merriment.
“Even had we not won the game, my spirits have been elevated to gaiety. I cannot remember another occasion so diverting. Battledore and shuttlecock was vastly enjoyable, but having such good friends to share it with made it a perfect way to spend an hour. And when Miss Althea batted the bird into Miss Hughes’s bonnet, I thought I might laugh myself silly.
Then there were the antics of Hector and Heiress Tottle. What fun!”
Darcy presumed that when Miss Wright turned away, it was to lift her eyes heavenward.
After consulting her pendant watch, Georgiana continued, “It is almost time to go to the beach. But first I want to thank you, Brother, for pairing me with Miss Bennet. Did you know that she is considered the best player in her neighbourhood? Miss Hughes told me so.”
“I had no notion you were such an expert, Miss Bennet. You told me you had not played battledore and shuttlecock in quite a while.”
“That was the truth, sir. I have not played it since leaving Longbourn. Why? What is your definition of quite a while?”
“Before I encountered you at Cliff House, it had been quite a while since we were in one another’s company.” Darcy moved closer to her. “Long enough to be noteworthy.”
“So,” she said, raising her chin to look him in the eye, “six months, or a year, or any significant amount of time, would be quite a while in your definition, would it?”
Those six months felt like an eternity, madam. “My interpretation is that quite a while means a substantial duration, much longer than a short period.”
Elizabeth laughed. “That will never do, sir, for we now must define a short period.”
“What a bag of moonshine,” muttered Miss Wright.
He pretended not to have heard that utterance of irritation. “The term ‘quite a while’ really depends on context, does it not? When I have a stack of tedious but important correspondence, it often takes quite a while to get through it, meaning that time drags on far longer than I had expected.”
“I see. So, quite a while is subjective and dependent on expectations. As an example, in my uncle’s business it might mean a day. In his home it might mean months or years.” She took a little step towards him.
Out of the corner of his eye, Darcy noticed Miss Wright sit up straighter. “Oh!” she cried. “Your uncle is in trade, is he, Miss Bennet?”
“Yes, Miss Wright. And I am excessively proud of him and his success. Now, Mr Darcy, shall we agree that quite a while means a very considerable time.”
He nodded. “Or a very substantial period.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, what on earth is the difference?” Miss Wright’s tone matched her sour countenance. “We have been waiting quite a while for the two of you to stop this nonsensical argument.”
“No, Miss Wright. You have only been waiting awhile. And Miss Bennet and I were having a debate, not an argument.”
“May we please go to the beach now, Brother?” Georgiana timidly asked.
After reminding the four young ladies about the tide, he gave his permission for them to go, and they did so with inordinate haste. “Miss Wright, you should join our sisters and their friends.”
Seemingly horrified, Miss Wright reminded him about her boots. “Besides that, you and I have scarcely enjoyed any time alone together since leaving London.”
Good God, woman! Flinching away in disgust, Darcy looked round, praying no one had heard her brazen and incriminating remark.
Pressing his lips tightly together, he suppressed the words he longed to say aloud—Madam, have you no shame, no sense of propriety?
Do you not care for your reputation? Or mine?
He watched longingly as, arm in arm and followed by Hector, Elizabeth and Georgiana walked behind Miss Althea and Miss Hughes towards the cliff. His heartstrings tugged in that direction.
I cannot honestly say that I ever enjoyed time with you, Miss Wright. And you and I certainly have never been alone together. I am always wary of such entrapments.
But there on the lawn, in sight of the house and of the domestics putting away the table and game equipment, was as good a place as any to discuss a thorny matter. It was time for him to grasp the nettle. As the poem advises,