Chapter 4 #2
Sir John waved a hand. “I do not remember that at all. I only remember the kissing. Travers, what do you remember?”
Mr Travers shrugged.
“Are you fond of pastoral romances?” Lady Metcalfe asked him.
He was silent, and Lady Metcalfe looked away.
It was clear he knew no more of Greek pastoral romances than she did.
He rarely talked of anything other than horses.
Elizabeth wondered if Mr Travers had had a defective education.
Perhaps his father was one of those noblemen who thought learning was useless to those born to fortunes.
Darcy seemed to have no lack of learning.
She turned her attention to Darcy at the same moment he looked at her, but Julia would not share him.
“Daphnis and Chloe sound delightfully pure,” said Julia, fluttering her eyelids at Darcy. “What virtuous characters.”
“They were ignorant,” he insisted, and Julia turned away with a sulk.
“All the well,” said Lady Metcalfe, taking a long drink of wine. “Few people marry their first youthful loves, especially if matters of rank are involved.”
The drawing room conversation was little better. Mr Travers spoke only of horses and wagering, and Darcy was trapped at the tea things by Julia. Henry and Sir John were whispering in the corner, and Elizabeth feared that any good Darcy had done for the young man was now moot.
“Do you remember going to the Ascot races in boys’ clothes, Louisa?” Mrs Tessier asked Lady Metcalfe as they reminisced about youthful race meetings. They both laughed at the memory.
“We were not the only ones. We met the Belmont sisters, who were also dressed as boys. Miss Belmont even had a young girl flirt with her and ask to buy her a punch at one of the booths.”
“I had thought to send the ladies in the carriage on Wednesday for the grander races, but if you girls want to dress as boys,” Mrs Tessier said to Elizabeth and Julia, “and run about tomorrow for the first meeting, you may. Henry has so many clothes; something will fit you. And I will have Henry mind you too.”
Even if it meant being in Julia’s company, Elizabeth thought it sounded diverting.
Women were never alone in a public space, but she could act very near to it if she dressed as a boy.
“If Miss Metcalfe is amenable and clothes could be had, I would go. When else would I have the chance to wear breeches, or walk about so freely?”
“You must not attend any masquerades during the season,” said Lady Metcalfe. “How narrow your society in Hertfordshire must be.”
Ignoring this slight, Elizabeth turned to Julia. “Miss Metcalfe?”
Rather than answer her, Julia asked Darcy, “What think you of women dressing up in men’s clothing? Would you enjoy having a fine view of a lady’s legs?”
Darcy blinked. “Tomorrow will have lower stakes if you wish to enjoy the race meeting atmosphere at its quietest, regardless of how you dress.”
He then stepped around her and joined the other men. Julia scowled and muttered, “What is the point of dressing as a man, then?”
Lady Metcalfe watched him go, then said to her friend, “Mary, what if we have some parlour games? Let the young people mingle?”
Mrs Tessier agreed, and between the two of them decided to begin with “The Prisoner,” and when they drew lots, Darcy was the unfortunate.
He left the room as Elizabeth joined the others to decide on his crimes.
If Darcy guessed wrongly, he would have to pay a forfeit.
There might be many chances for both of them to lose a round and suffer the fine.
And everyone’s favourite forfeits involved chaste kisses and chances to touch.
That must be why Lady Metcalfe encouraged the game. She wished to improve Julia’s chances with Darcy, but Elizabeth had hopes for herself. Perhaps she could use the games to get a little closer to him and show how highly she thought of him now.
Each of them selected a crime to accuse Darcy of whilst they assembled the chairs in a semi-circle, with Mrs Tessier being their chosen accuser. Elizabeth set down a chair by Henry who whispered, “I do not know this one.”
She quietly explained the rules. “After hearing each accusation from his judges, Darcy must name the party whom he supposes to have chosen it. For every right guess, the plaintiff pays a fine, and after going all round, if he fails in discovering any of the judges, the prisoner pays a fine. I suspect Mr Darcy will get several correct, for I cannot see him getting none, so the first judge he uncovers is the person who is to surrender his seat in the tribunal and take the prisoner’s place at the bar for the next round. ”
Henry thanked her, then called Darcy back in, and he took his seat before them, saying gamely, “I am ready to be brought to the bar.”
Mrs Tessier said dramatically, “Judges, know ye for what offence this prisoner is put to the bar to take his trial?” They all agreed. “Mr Darcy is charged with sleeping in church, poaching, cheating at cards, jilting a lover, stealing a horse, and not dancing at a ball.”
When she said, “not dancing at a ball,” Darcy looked right at Elizabeth.
Everyone else fell away when their eyes met.
His tight expression showed he knew exactly what she meant, and he felt badly for it.
She smiled to show him it was all forgotten, that rather than harbouring any ill will, she now admired him.
That even if he had withstood her beauty at that first meeting, she knew he valued her now.
Or, at least he had valued her last month at Hunsford.
“Mr Darcy?” called Lady Metcalfe. “Face your accusers.”
He dragged his eyes from her and said, “I say Mr Travers accuses me of stealing a horse.”
The men laughed. “A good guess,” said Mr Travers, “but Mr Henry Tessier accused you of that.”
He took his loss with good humour, then said, “Miss Bennet accuses me of not dancing.”
She did not have to nod; he knew he was right.
“She cannot know you well,” said Julia. “You danced every dance last night. I cannot imagine you refusing to stand up with a lady sitting down. Not when you are such a graceful dancer.”
Darcy’s expression remained unreadable, and he correctly guessed who accused him of the other crimes.
“I am a little wounded you knew it was me who accused you of jilting a lover,” Julia said to Darcy when his turn ended. “It was all a tease, you know. You would never injure a lover.”
“Who knows what some men are capable of?” said Sir John with a crass wink.
“Or women,” said Darcy. “They are equally capable of cunning and cruelty.”
This silenced Julia, but Elizabeth suspected it would not be enough to deter her from pursuing her dark-haired, rich young man.
Since Elizabeth’s was the first reply Darcy chose rightly, it was now her turn to be the prisoner.
As she waited in the corridor for them to decide what her crimes must be, Elizabeth held fast to the hope that Darcy would earn more forfeits.
He only missed one in this game, but that was one chance to play Kiss if You Can, Fishing for a Kiss, Cupid’s Turnpike, or any other forfeit that might oblige him to kiss her.
Mrs Tessier opened the door and told her to come back inside, where she took the seat Darcy vacated and began her turn.
“Madam, you stand accused of ordering a bad dinner, forgetting a birthday, taking too long to dress, stealing a friend’s beau, and stealing a horse.”
“That is only five,” said Sir John.
“Oh, forgive me.” She gave an embarrassed laugh. “Miss Bennet, you are also accused of breaking a man’s heart.”
All the air was driven from her lungs as she locked eyes with Darcy.
Not a syllable passed between them, and certainly not on the subject of love, but Elizabeth felt it all the same.
Whatever flaws he had, or had when she first knew him, he had loved her.
Darcy was a good person, with depth and feeling, and a capacity for love and forgiveness.
And she had broken his heart.
“Prisoner,” said Mrs Tessier, jolting her back to attention. “Make your first guess.”
Should she lose on purpose? Would it embarrass Darcy to answer truthfully? Likely not, otherwise he would not have made that her crime. He had to understand that she knew what she had given up. “Mr Darcy,” she whispered, “accuses me of breaking his heart.”
“Correct,” she cried, whilst the other judges clapped.
“How cruel of you,” cried Julia, going along with the game. “What manner of woman breaks the heart of a man like Mr Darcy?”
Elizabeth hated that Julia was right. It cut her to the bone and she could not answer. To her surprise, Darcy said quietly, and whilst watching her rather than Julia, “Perhaps he deserved it, and it made him a better man.”
She had never before had a fit of fainting, but Elizabeth felt it possible now. He considered her to be so proper an object of admiration that he valued her judgment even though she broke his heart. Her own heart felt fit to burst.
The prisoner game proceeded with a few more rounds with more forfeits, but Elizabeth hardly paid attention.
She might have said “lost a borrowed book” twice.
Julia Metcalfe was practically in Darcy’s lap, and Sir John kept his arm draped around the back of Elizabeth’s chair.
They discussed playing a round of Move-all, but Lady Metcalfe insisted it was time for forfeits and Mrs Tessier, so easily led by whomever spoke last, agreed.
When they tallied them, Darcy only had two mistakes. Elizabeth, along with everyone else, had several. Not all possible forfeits were kissing ones, but it seemed likely with this group that they would be preferred.
“How clever you are, Mr Darcy,” cried Julia. “As our first forfeit, you ought to select the first method of punishment.”