Chapter Seven
Elizabeth knew she ought to have been changing for dinner. Instead, she lay flat upon her bed for a full half hour, staring at the canopy above her bed and listening to the faint sounds of activity beyond her door.
She was captain. The thought had not improved with repetition.
Elizabeth had wanted something different.
She had wanted new people and places. She had craved new experiences.
Now she certainly had it, but bearing the responsibility for nine other young ladies and the weight of Lady Hortensia’s expectations felt more than she was equal to.
Nor had she expected to be competing opposite Mr Darcy.
That, perhaps, was the most provoking part of all.
It was bad enough that he had revealed such pompous pride upon the lawn.
Then, during Lady Hortensia’s speech, he had watched her in that strange, fixed manner, as though still searching for fault.
Once she thought she saw him laugh at her. Hateful man.
And perhaps worse of all, he was almost painfully handsome.
Elizabeth was not so foolish as to deny it.
A gentleman might be arrogant and still possess a fine face, though it seemed unfair that such good looks should be wasted on Mr Darcy.
She remembered the dark seriousness of his eyes, his full lips, pressed into a scowl and one errant curl that had fallen forward over his brow, softening him just enough to make one want to…
But no. She sat up and beat her fists into the pillow beside her, hoping to shake off the unsettling emotions that plagued her. "Stupid." Smack. "Hateful." Smack. "Ignorant." Smack. "Man." She punctuated each word with a strike, sending feathers flying.
"Elizabeth Bennet!" came a voice from the door.
For a moment, Elizabeth thought her mother had pursued her to Derbyshire, but she turned to see Jane, ethereally beautiful in a gown of pale violet silk, with a look of amazement on her face.
"Oh, Lizzy. What has that pillow done to offend you so?"
"I know. I am disgracing my office already."
Jane crossed the room and sat upon the edge of the bed. "Whatever is the matter? And why are you not ready for dinner?"
"In my defence, Mr Darcy started it."
Jane’s mouth twitched, though she made a valiant attempt to look serious. "Lizzy, surely one misunderstanding cannot have vexed you so."
"Oh, do not Lizzy me in that tone. I know I am being ridiculous. I knew it even as I was doing it, which did not make it any less satisfying."
Jane reached for one of the escaping feathers and caught it between her fingers. "You are very angry with him."
"I am." Elizabeth folded her arms. "It would be much easier if he had not the audacity to be the most handsome man I have ever seen."
Jane laughed then. "I must say, I prefer the Colonel’s blonde good looks. Mama would be proud of us, mooning about over two eligible gentlemen and we have not even been here a day complete."
"It is not funny. And I am not mooning. He is awful and now he is the captain and I am captain, and, oh Jane, I hope I am not thrown too much into his company."
"You do not wish to be captain?"
"I do not know. I ought to be flattered, and I am, a little. I am pleased that Lady Hortensia thinks me equal to it. But she has known me half a day. What could she possibly have seen?"
"That you are a very capable young woman," said Jane firmly.
"Now, Lizzy, dearest, all will be well. Is this not what you wanted, a little adventure?
And all will be well with Mr Darcy. I am not defending his behaviour," she added quickly.
"He was wrong to speak as he did. But he looked very sorry afterwards. "
"He looked uncomfortable because I had scolded him in public."
"Perhaps."
"He looked at me strangely during Lady Hortensia’s speech," Elizabeth said after a moment.
"Strangely?"
"As though he were trying to find fault."
"That seems unlikely." Jane rose from the bed and held out her hand. "Come. You truly must dress. The gong will sound before long, and I do not think Lady Hortensia will be happy to discover her newly appointed captain has destroyed her bed linens and refused dinner."
Elizabeth looked at her sister, so composed and elegant, and felt some of her own courage return. "You are right. Though I warn you now, if Colonel Fitzwilliam monopolises you all evening, I shall take it very ill."
Jane just smiled enigmatically and crossed the room to ring for a maid.
???
The dining room at Chaffley Hall was handsome and brilliantly lit.
Candles shone in the wall sconces and along the centre of the table, flowers had been arranged between silver dishes and cut glass.
The walls were hung with portraits of Settle ancestors who looked down upon the company jovially.
Elizabeth thought that Lady Hortensia’s enthusiasm for life must be genetic.
Elizabeth discovered her card halfway down the table, set between Mr Thomas Hadley and Mrs Cartwright, a young widow.
Mr Hadley rose at once with a friendly bow and beaming grin, everything about him, from his bright silk waistcoat to his elaborate cravat, seemed to suggest an abundance of good humour.
Mrs Cartwright, by contrast, was a thin, pale lady in a gown of dove-grey, with a shawl wrapped closely about her shoulders despite the warmth of the room.
She smiled kindly, but weakly, at Elizabeth as though even that small gesture was exhausting to her.
"Miss Elizabeth Bennet," said Mr Hadley, smiling as Elizabeth took her seat. "Captain of the ladies. We are honoured."
"You are premature, Mr Hadley. I have not yet done anything to deserve such praise."
"Ah, but you have been appointed. That is half the battle. I have known many a man get by quite comfortably on looking as though he knows what he is about." He let out a bark of laughter at his own joke, but there was something so disarming in his manner that Elizabeth couldn’t help but like him.
"Then I shall try my utmost to look confident, sir."
Mrs Cartwright turned towards her with a grave expression. "I hope there will not be too much exertion. I find an excess of activity very trying."
"Lady Hortensia said the first contest would involve logic and observation," Elizabeth replied. "That sounds reasonably gentle."
Mr Hadley looked towards Mrs Cartwright with immediate concern. "You are not fond of sport, ma’am?"
"I am fond of watching it," she said, with a small smile. "And I used to walk and ride a great deal more than I do now. Since my husband died, I find I do not have quite the strength I once had."
Mr Hadley’s smile softened. "Then I hope the second day is kinder than you fear. If there is anything I can do to assist you, you have only to say so."
Mrs Cartwright looked at him with faint amusement. "That is very generous, Mr Hadley, but have you forgotten we are on opposing sides?"
"I had not forgotten," he said. "But I hoped we might postpone hostilities until the pudding has been removed."
Mrs Cartwright laughed before she could stop herself, a light, surprised sound that seemed to startle her as much as anyone.
For an instant the tiredness in her face lifted, and Elizabeth realised she could not be more than five-and-twenty.
Without the shawl held so tightly about her shoulders and the shadow of grief beneath her eyes, Mrs Cartwright might have looked almost girlish.
Mr Hadley seemed to notice the change too, for his smile warmed.
The first course was served, and for a few minutes the room gave itself over to the pleasant confusion of a large dinner.
Servants moved quietly behind chairs, and both ladies and gentlemen exchanged remarks about the journey, the house and the beauty of the grounds.
Elizabeth looked instinctively for Jane and found her several places away, seated between Colonel Fitzwilliam and one of the Blackwood brothers.
The Blackwood brother—which one she could not have said—was speaking with great animation, but Jane’s attention was not entirely his.
Colonel Fitzwilliam had bent his head towards her, saying something in a low voice that made her smile down at her plate.
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. So that was how matters stood.
Her beloved sister, her truest ally in every unfamiliar room, had been at Chaffley Hall only a few hours and was already in danger of being quite lost to a handsome colonel with laughing eyes.
Elizabeth could hardly blame her. Colonel Fitzwilliam was kind and sociable and seemed just as taken with Jane as she was with him.
She lifted her glass and took a cautious sip of wine.
Then she looked across the table and saw Mr Darcy seated directly opposite her.
Of course he was. Lady Hortensia’s arrangement could not possibly be accidental.
Elizabeth had known their hostess only a few hours, but she had already formed the opinion that very little at Chaffley Hall happened without Lady Hortensia’s knowledge.
Mr Darcy sat very straight, his dark evening coat fitting him exceedingly well, his linen starkly white and his expression as grave as ever.
Candlelight caught the strong line of his face and added red tones to the dark wave of his hair.
Mr Darcy looked up and she dropped her gaze to her soup. This was ridiculous. She was not a child to be caught staring, nor was she a silly girl to be impressed by a pair of fine eyes and a well-cut coat. He had behaved abominably. That was what she must focus on.
She took a spoonful of soup and burned her tongue.
Across from her, Mr Darcy’s mouth moved. It was only the smallest movement and gone almost immediately, but Elizabeth saw it. He had been amused. Not openly, of course. Mr Darcy’s amusement appeared to be under strict regulation, like everything else about him, but it had been there.
Farther down the table, Mr Anstruther was telling an animated story while Captain Fanshawe listened with a faint smile. Elizabeth had not yet spoken to either gentleman, but both seemed pleasant enough and had the distinct advantage of not being the infuriating Mr Darcy.
At the head of the table, Lady Hortensia was speaking to Mr Bennet with ease, and Elizabeth smiled fondly at her father.
She remembered with a pang that he would be removing to the Dower House tomorrow.
She was not sure how she would navigate the next few days without his gentle guidance and wry sense of humour.
Her eyes moved to Mr Darcy again before she could prevent them.
He was speaking now to the gentleman on his left.
As if sensing her gaze, he looked up again.
This time neither of them looked away immediately.
Candle flames trembled between them, and for one strange moment the noise of the dinner seemed to recede.
He was not smiling. He was not even speaking.
He merely looked at her, serious and unreadable, until his brows drew together slightly.
There it was again. That stern, disapproving look.
Elizabeth returned it with one of cool enquiry.
Mr Hadley leaned towards her. "Miss Bennet, have you a grand plan to lead your team to success?"
Elizabeth turned to him with relief. "Not quite yet, sir. I believe I shall have to know the details of the first contest before I begin on my grand design for victory. I am sure our hostess has a few surprises up her sleeve."
"I hope," said Mr Darcy from across the table, "that surprises will not trouble the ladies too much. Lady Hortensia has designed the Challenge to test qualities in which gentlemen may be expected to have some natural advantage."
Elizabeth looked up at him. The words were said calmly, and perhaps he meant nothing very dreadful by them. That did not make them less annoying. "Natural advantage?" she repeated.
Darcy seemed to realise, a moment too late, that he had chosen his words poorly. "I meant only that gentlemen are often educated with competition in mind. At school, at university, in sport and even at their clubs. They are accustomed to rivalry."
"How fortunate for you," said Elizabeth. "We ladies must make do with whatever small scraps of wit and judgement we have gathered between hemming handkerchiefs."
Mrs Cartwright lowered her gaze to her plate, though Elizabeth saw her mouth twitch.
Mr Hadley looked at Mr Darcy with cheerful reproach. "Mr Darcy, I believe you have just improved Miss Bennet’s chances of leading her team to victory quite considerably."
Darcy frowned. "How so?"
"Nothing steadies a side quite like being underestimated."
One of the Blackwood brothers laughed. "That is true enough. Henry is forever underestimating me at Gentleman Jack’s, and he more often than not ends up on his backside."
"I do not," grumbled another Blackwood further down the table.
"My dear cousin," said Colonel Fitzwilliam, from farther down the table, "I hope you are not insulting the competition before the games begin. It is poor strategy to kick a hornet’s nest."
Darcy gave him a cool look. "I was not aware I had insulted anyone."
"No?" said Elizabeth. "Then I shall admire your natural talent, sir. You achieve it so effortlessly."
Mr Hadley laughed into his wine, while Colonel Fitzwilliam’s eyes brightened with open enjoyment.
"There, Darcy," said the colonel. "You see? More determined already."
Mr Ashcombe, who had been listening from farther down the table, leaned into the conversation. "I dare say Mr Darcy only means that gentlemen are more used to open contest. Ladies possess other accomplishments, of course, and very charming ones."
"Mr Ashcombe," said Elizabeth, "you relieve me exceedingly. I had begun to fear we possessed no useful qualities at all."
Darcy’s gaze returned to Elizabeth. There was something like apology in it, though his manner remained stiff enough to make the effort difficult to receive.
"I spoke clumsily," he said. "Lady Hortensia made it clear the contests are intended to be fair."
Mr Hadley looked from one to the other with evident enjoyment. "Well, that is something settled. I always like a peaceful dinner."
Mrs Cartwright glanced towards him. "Do you call this peaceful?"
Before he could answer, Lady Hortensia called down the table, something that was certainly not the behaviour of a society hostess. "Peaceful, Mr Hadley? I hope not. I have not gone to all this trouble for a dull dinner."
Mr Hadley lifted his glass towards her. "Then I shall do my best to oblige you, my lady."
Elizabeth smiled and returned to her food. Dull was one thing this week was not likely to be.