Chapter Fifteen
The teams took their places upon the lawn, each competitor permitted three arrows before the scores were added together.
The gentlemen began with confidence. Sir Geoffrey was a competent bowsman and struck the bullseye with his final shot.
Mr Ashcombe shot with practised ease, while the Blackwood brothers handled their bows with the comfortable familiarity of men who had competed against one another since boyhood.
Colonel Fitzwilliam proved steady, placing all three arrows within the inner rings, while Captain Fanshawe surprised everyone by shooting almost as well.
Darcy shot with his usual control and missed the centre only once.
Even Hadley, who claimed not to have loosed an arrow in years, struck the target twice.
The ladies were less consistent, though Clara Sitcombe and Miss Drummond both shot well enough to keep the result close.
Lady Frances was competent, Miss Grey proved unexpectedly accurate and Miss Bennet sent all three arrows into the target with considerable skill.
Richard applauded so warmly that several of his teammates turned to look at him with displeasure.
Miss Elizabeth's first arrow fell short by several feet.
She looked from the arrow to the target, then adjusted her grip before trying again.
Her second attempt travelled farther, though it passed wide of the butt and landed near one of the empty chairs.
Mr Pritchard calmly instructed the spectators to move back.
"I believe that was an improvement," she said.
"Undoubtedly," replied Miss Sitcombe, although she did not sound entirely convinced.
The ladies called out encouragement, though Darcy could see that Miss Elizabeth was growing vexed with herself. She drew the string for a third time, but Mr James Blackwood stepped forward before she released it.
"Your grip is too tight, Miss Elizabeth. May I?"
She lowered the bow. "Please."
Blackwood came to stand beside her and showed her where to place her fingers.
When she attempted the position, he adjusted her wrist and asked her to raise her elbow.
There was nothing improper in his manner.
His touch was brief and Miss Elizabeth appeared grateful for the assistance.
Nevertheless, Darcy felt his whole body tense.
He wanted Blackwood to remove his hands from her at once, and only when he noticed Richard watching him did he make a deliberate effort to relax his features.
Blackwood was merely helping her. Darcy had also been the one to suggest that what had passed between them should be forgotten. He had no right to object if another gentleman stood close to her.
"You are holding yourself too stiffly," Blackwood said. "Let the bow do some of the work."
Miss Elizabeth raised it again. This time she drew the string more smoothly and released without hesitation. The arrow struck the outer edge of the target.
The ladies cheered and some of the gentlemen joined them. Miss Elizabeth turned towards Blackwood with such open pleasure that Darcy felt a fresh rise of irritation.
"There," Blackwood said. "You see? It was only the grip."
"Then I am indebted to you, sir."
"Not at all."
Beside Darcy, Richard gave a quiet cough. "It would not do for the gentlemen's captain to call out a member of his own team."
Darcy kept his gaze upon Miss Elizabeth. "I have no intention of doing any such thing."
"You look very near to it for a man who vowed to keep himself under better regulation."
Darcy turned his head and gave Richard a look which ought to have silenced him. It did not. Richard only smiled, and Darcy walked back towards the other gentlemen before his cousin could say anything further.
Miss Harriet Sitcombe managed to place one arrow in the outer ring, while Mrs Cartwright struck the target once to thunderous applause from Mr Hadley.
Miss Harrington and Miss Lacey both added modestly to the ladies' total, but it was not enough.
When Mr Pritchard completed his calculations, the gentlemen's greater consistency had carried the day.
"Three points to the gentlemen."
The score now stood at seven points to the gentlemen and four to the ladies. Two points remained available for the fencing bout. A victory for Lady Frances would bring the ladies within a single point, while a victory for Mr Ashcombe would give the gentlemen a commanding lead.
A short interval followed while the servants cleared the archery equipment and brought out trays of lemonade and small cakes. Darcy accepted a glass without tasting it. His attention had already found Elizabeth—could she truly be his Elizabeth—who stood with her sister near the edge of the lawn.
He watched her as she moved among the ladies, smiling at something Miss Bennet said before turning to speak to Miss Drummond.
Only the previous evening, he had been able to summon a dozen reasons why any attachment between them would be unwise.
Her family, her connections, the expectations attached to his own position.
They had seemed substantial then. Now they appeared strangely distant, lifting from his mind like mist clearing over the ocean.
The speed of the change disturbed him. He had not altered his opinion of her circumstances.
He had merely ceased to care about them as much as he ought.
Georgiana would love her. Of that he felt certain.
Miss Elizabeth would bring warmth and liveliness into Pemberley, and he could already imagine his sister seeking her company and trusting her judgement.
He would spend his days trying to make her happy, and suspected he would take much pleasure in the attempt. Would that truly be so terrible?
But he had no idea what she felt for him.
She had returned his kiss, yet she had also agreed that it should be forgotten.
Perhaps she regretted it. Perhaps the disappointment he had thought he glimpsed that morning had existed only because he wished to see it.
Darcy lowered his glass. He had gone very far from keeping himself under better regulation.
He set the lemonade aside and turned his attention firmly towards the fencing ground.
???
By the time the fencing ground was ready, Lady Frances had gone inside to change.
She returned wearing a dark riding habit, its skirt narrower than an ordinary gown and short enough that it would not impede her feet.
Over the fitted bodice she wore a padded fencing jacket borrowed from one of Lady Hortensia's grandsons, though a maid had evidently taken in the seams to prevent it hanging too loosely about her.
Her hair had been secured firmly at the back of her head and she carried a wire mask beneath one arm.
The alteration in her appearance caused almost as much comment as the choice of fencing itself.
Miss Harriet Sitcombe declared that she looked magnificent.
Sir Geoffrey appeared deeply troubled by the sight of a lady dressed for serious sport, while Mr Ashcombe examined the borrowed jacket with a faint curl of his lip.
"I trust you are satisfied that every possible precaution has been taken," Lady Frances said as she approached him.
"I remain doubtful that the contest ought to take place at all."
Lady Hortensia, who had resumed her seat beneath the canopy, gave an impatient tap of her cane. "Your doubts have been heard, Mr Ashcombe. They have also been disregarded. Pray choose your foil."
Mr Pritchard stood beside the marked ground with the ledger tucked beneath one arm. Two buttoned foils had been placed upon the table along with masks and padded gloves. He waited until both competitors had selected their weapons before explaining the rules in his usual grave manner.
"The bout will continue until one competitor has made five clean touches.
I shall call each touch, and both competitors will stop immediately when instructed.
The use of excessive force will result in the loss of a point.
The winner will secure the remaining two points available in today's contest."
Lady Hortensia looked towards the assembled company. "That will make five points in all for sporting prowess. Three have gone to the gentlemen for archery. Two remain to be decided here."
Mr Ashcombe tested the balance of his foil, then turned towards Lady Frances. "There is still time to reconsider. I should not like you to feel obliged to continue merely because you spoke too confidently before the company."
Lady Frances pulled on her glove. "Your concern for me is touching, sir, but unnecessary."
His smile thinned. "Very well. You cannot complain if I treat you as I would any other opponent."
"I should be offended if you did not."
They lowered their masks and took their positions. Mr Ashcombe looked entirely at ease as he raised his foil. Lady Frances appeared no less composed, and Darcy noticed that she kept her weight forward and watched her opponent's wrist rather than the point of his blade.
At Mr Pritchard's signal, Ashcombe advanced quickly.
He made no reckless attack, but there was confidence in every movement, and Darcy suspected he intended to settle the matter before Lady Frances had time to find her footing.
She gave ground, parried his first attempt and moved aside from the second.
Ashcombe followed, pressing her towards the edge of the marked space.
Lady Frances waited until he committed himself, then turned his blade and touched him neatly upon the chest.
Mr Pritchard raised one hand. "Touch to Lady Frances."
The ladies broke into loud applause. Mr Hadley joined them before apparently remembering which side he represented, while Colonel Fitzwilliam made no attempt to restrain his amusement.
Mr Ashcombe stepped back and lifted his mask. "I was not ready."
"You both began at the same signal," Mr Pritchard replied.