Chapter Fifteen #2
Lady Hortensia waved one hand. "Put your mask on, Mr Ashcombe. You will find that complaining does not alter the score."
His face had reddened, but he obeyed. The second exchange lasted longer. Ashcombe was more cautious now, and his greater reach allowed him to hold Lady Frances at a distance. He drew her into an attack, avoided it and touched her upon the shoulder before she could recover.
"One touch each," said Mr Pritchard.
Ashcombe gave a small bow. "You see, madam? Skill will tell in the end."
Lady Frances returned to her place. "Then we must hope you possess some."
A laugh ran through the company. Ashcombe heard it, and Darcy saw the immediate change in him. His next attack was faster, but less controlled. Lady Frances parried it, and when he attempted to force her blade aside, she slipped from beneath the pressure and touched him upon the sleeve.
"Two touches to Lady Frances."
Ashcombe removed his mask again. "That was scarcely a touch."
"It was clean," said Mr Pritchard.
"Upon the sleeve."
"Which is attached to you, sir," Lady Hortensia observed.
Even Darcy could not prevent a smile. Across the ground, Miss Elizabeth was laughing openly, her eyes bright with delight. She caught his gaze and looked pointedly towards the score, raising two fingers before folding her arms with an air of great satisfaction.
Darcy shook his head, though he was still smiling as he turned back to the bout.
Ashcombe won the next two touches. Once he ceased attempting to humiliate his opponent and attended properly to the fencing, his reach and strength began to work in his favour.
Lady Frances defended herself well, but he forced her backwards and caught her first upon the shoulder, then against the padded jacket above her ribs.
"Three touches to Mr Ashcombe. Two to Lady Frances."
The gentlemen applauded, though their support was less noisy than that of the ladies. Mr Hadley offered only a few dutiful claps, and Henry Blackwood remained silent beside his brothers.
Lady Frances returned to her position and adjusted her grip. The exertion had brought colour into her face beneath the mask, but her movements remained controlled. Ashcombe must have seen that she was tiring, for he advanced immediately when the bout resumed.
He drove her backwards once more, striking hard enough against her foil that the sound carried across the lawn. Lady Frances recovered, but his next attack came before she had fully regained her balance. She retreated towards the edge of the marked ground and narrowly avoided another touch.
Darcy stepped forward. "Take care, Ashcombe."
The warning caused Ashcombe to hesitate. It was only for an instant, but Lady Frances used it. She turned his blade aside and touched him squarely upon the chest.
"Three touches each," announced Mr Pritchard.
The ladies' cheers rose again, and Miss Elizabeth called Lady Frances's name above them. Ashcombe dragged off his mask.
"Darcy interfered."
"I instructed you to take care," Darcy replied. "You were using more force than the contest requires."
"I was fencing!"
"You were warned before the bout that excessive force would not be permitted."
Ashcombe looked ready to continue the argument, but Darcy held his gaze until he replaced the mask and returned to his position.
The fourth touch went to Lady Frances. Ashcombe attacked with renewed determination, but his temper had made him careless again.
She allowed him to advance, gave ground for two paces and then moved sharply to one side.
His foil passed harmlessly beside her, and she caught him upon the back of the shoulder before he could turn.
"Four touches to Lady Frances."
Ashcombe spun round. "She struck me from behind."
"You turned your back upon her," Mr Pritchard said. "The touch stands."
Lady Hortensia leant forward upon her cane. "You cannot expect your opponent to wait politely while you recover from your own mistake."
The ladies applauded this judgement, though the gentlemen had grown noticeably quieter. Ashcombe stood with his back rigid and his foil lowered, his anger visible even beneath the mask.
Lady Frances waited across from him, breathing deeply but giving no sign that she had been unsettled.
Darcy found himself admiring her calm. Ashcombe had expected her to be embarrassed by the attention as well as a poor swordswoman.
Each expectation had proved wrong, and he had not known how to adjust.
The next touch was his. He fenced with greater care and used his reach properly, keeping Lady Frances at a distance until he found an opening against her shoulder.
"Four touches each."
The entire company had fallen silent now.
Lady Frances rolled her wrist once before raising the foil.
Ashcombe returned to his place without speaking.
Their final exchange was the longest of the bout.
Ashcombe did not rush forward this time, and Lady Frances made no attempt to draw him into doing so.
Their blades met several times as each tested the other's defence.
Lady Frances moved lightly despite the weight of her skirt, but Ashcombe kept her from coming within reach and forced her to retreat.
He feinted towards her shoulder. Lady Frances reacted, and Ashcombe immediately changed the direction of his blade. For a moment Darcy believed he had caught her. She twisted aside just in time, turned his foil away and stepped inside the advantage of his longer arm.
Her point landed against the centre of his padded jacket.
Mr Pritchard's hand rose. "Five touches to Lady Frances. The bout and two points to the ladies."
The ladies were on their feet before he had finished speaking.
Miss Harriet Sitcombe cried out and threw both arms around her sister, while Miss Grey hurried forward to receive Lady Frances's mask and kiss her delightedly on both cheeks.
Mrs Cartwright applauded with unexpected vigour and Miss Bennet's pleasure was answered by Richard, who cheered almost as loudly as any member of the opposing team.
Miss Elizabeth turned in the midst of the confusion and found Darcy standing directly behind her. Forgetting herself, she caught both his hands. "She did it!"
The force of her delight brought her closer, and Darcy closed his fingers around hers before he could think better of it.
Her face was flushed from cheering and her eyes were fixed upon his with such warmth that for a moment the lawn and the people around them receded from his notice. "She did," he said.
Elizabeth's smile widened. "You do not sound nearly disappointed enough."
"I find I am not."
His voice had lowered. Her expression altered slightly as she became aware of their joined hands and the small distance between them. Darcy felt her fingers tighten once around his before she released him.
"We are only one point behind you now," she said, though she did not step away at once.
"So you are."
"You should be concerned."
"I am." The answer had very little to do with the score, and from the sudden colour in her cheeks, he thought she understood him.
A fresh burst of cheering broke out behind her as Lady Frances removed her fencing jacket and accepted the congratulations of her team.
Elizabeth glanced towards the others, then back at Darcy.
Her smile had softened, but before either of them could speak again, Richard appeared at Darcy's shoulder.
"Seven points to the gentlemen and six to the ladies," he said. "A narrow lead, Darcy. Though I confess you do not look especially troubled by it."
Elizabeth withdrew her hands completely and went to join Lady Frances. Darcy watched her go, still feeling the pressure of her fingers against his own.