Chapter Eight #2
Miss Lacey looked up. "And you, Miss Elizabeth?"
Elizabeth paused before answering. "I read a great deal, and I remember what I read. I walk well, I am tolerable at cards, and I am outspoken and fond of a good debate, though I am not sure that counts as a skill."
"It may," said Lady Frances. "If the gentlemen are very tiresome."
"Good," said Elizabeth. "That gives us a beginning. I think our advantage, if we have one, is that we are more likely to combine our skills together. The gentlemen may have strengths of their own, but they will also have pride, and pride can cause division."
Miss Harrington made a soft, sceptical sound.
Elizabeth looked at her. "You disagree?"
"I think it unwise to assume gentlemen are prideful or foolish merely because they are gentlemen."
"I do not assume they are foolish," said Elizabeth. "Only that they may be less willing to own to their weaknesses and more likely to overinflate their strengths."
Elizabeth looked around the crowded room.
Some faces were eager, some doubtful, some amused and one or two still plainly unconvinced.
It was not an orderly council, nor anything like one, but for the first time that morning she felt a little more equal to the task before her.
"We, at least, know what we have to work with. "
???
Breakfast had been a loud, raucous affair, with no chaperones to soften anyone's behaviour and the anticipation of the first event making even the quieter competitors restless.
They made a lively party, though the battle lines seemed already drawn.
The gentlemen had gathered towards one side of the room and the ladies the other.
Only Jane and Colonel Fitzwilliam had resisted the division.
The colonel had found a place near her almost at once and was regaling her with a story that seemed to centre around a major-general who had lost his hat.
Elizabeth could not hear every word, but she saw Jane's eyes widening, one hand pressed to her lips, then a burst of bright laughter.
Colonel Fitzwilliam looked absurdly pleased with himself.
Elizabeth wondered whether she ought to be disapproving and found she had not the heart for it.
Mr Darcy had not resisted the division. He stood among the gentlemen, a little apart from the loudest of them, in stilted conversation with Sir Geoffrey Morton.
Elizabeth had spoken to the other gentleman briefly the previous evening and found him a solemn and reluctant conversationalist. An ideal match, she thought bitterly.
Mr Pritchard appeared in the doorway. "Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Mr Darcy. Lady Hortensia asks that you attend her in the small library."
The room quieted at once. Harriet, who had been sitting to one side of her, gripped her arm. "This is it. This is it!" she squealed, spraying toast crumbs over the white tablecloth.
Elizabeth looked at the crumbs, then at Harriet's shining face, and found herself smiling despite the sudden flutter in her stomach. "Yes," she said. "I had gathered that."
Harriet did not release her. "Remember everything."
"I shall try my very best."
Across the room Jane caught Elizabeth's eye, gave her a warm, encouraging smile and mouthed, "Good luck."
Elizabeth lifted her brows in silent acknowledgement and rose. Mr Darcy had risen at the same moment. For one awkward instant they both moved towards the door from opposite sides of the room, their teams watching on in silence.
"Miss Elizabeth," said Mr Darcy, standing back to let her exit the room ahead of him.
"Mr Darcy," she responded coolly. She passed through the doorway, close enough to catch the clean scent of soap and linen. She thought she heard him take an unsteady breath, but when she looked at him his face was its customary stern mask.
Mr Pritchard led them down a narrow passage panelled in dark wood.
Neither captain spoke. Elizabeth could hear the faint sound of breakfast resuming behind them.
Ahead lay the small library, and beside her, just half a step behind, Mr Darcy walked with slow careful steps.
Her neck prickled, she was aware of his every movement.
Lady Hortensia was already seated at a round table when they entered, two pieces of folded paper in front of her. The room was lined with books, sheer drapes blocking out the harshness of the morning light.
"Good," said Lady Hortensia brightly. "Captains present and correct. That is a promising beginning."
Elizabeth curtseyed. Darcy bowed.
Lady Hortensia's eyes moved between them. "Our first day is devoted to logic and observation. A gentle beginning, you will be pleased to know. There is no need to look so dour, Mr Darcy. You may even enjoy yourself."
A laugh escaped Elizabeth before she could stop it. It was small, little more than a breath, but Mr Darcy heard it. His eyes moved to her at once, and his brows drew together in a look of such wounded dignity that she had to press her lips together to keep from making it worse.
"Forgive me," she said, not sounding especially sorry.
Mr Darcy's scowl deepened and he looked determinedly away from her.
"Each captain will receive the same instructions," said Lady Hortensia. "You will have ten minutes to discuss them with your team before the contest begins. No questions will be answered once you leave this room, so if you have any, ask them now."
She tapped the folded papers. "The first contest is a type of treasure hunt."
Elizabeth and Mr Darcy both reached for their papers, and their hands brushed, the lightest touch of his fingers against hers, gone almost before it had happened.
Yet Elizabeth felt a sudden warmth that made her snatch her hand back as though the paper had burned her.
Mr Darcy did not move so quickly. He went very still, his eyes dropping to her hand as if he too had felt it.