Chapter Thirteen
The next hour of the game passed quickly. Elizabeth, Lady Rebecca, and Mr. Bingley stayed together throughout their scheming and sneaking. They crept about the dimly lit manor in their cloaks, occasionally meeting with the innocent players, who chiefly fled from the sight of them.
Elizabeth did not see Mr. Darcy often, though her collusion with his cousin meant that he was never far from her mind – the words she had heard him speak to Lady Rebecca were imprinted upon her heart.
She kept him safe for as long as she could without raising the suspicions of her fellow phantoms, and her heart was heavy when she was finally obliged to agree to his elimination.
Elizabeth encountered him in a darkened corridor, the only time she split up from her companions, when their intended victim proved hard to find.
And here he was – she had found him. She had him cornered, in fact.
He had been walking with Colonel Fitzwilliam, speaking in hurried whispers and…
laughing. She had never seen him do so before, not like this.
Elizabeth drew herself into the shadows, mesmerized by the sight of his mirth.
He had occasionally given a little chuckle at her jests, once or twice in Meryton, and more often in Kent, but she had never made him laugh like this.
Mr. Wickham had once told her that Mr. Darcy could be merry with his friends, and she wondered if this had been a morsel of truth amongst his lies.
Mr. Darcy was indeed capable of levity, and she was deeply struck by this unguarded side of him.
Why had she not ever managed to evoke such a response from him?
She would have liked it, to be the cause of his lips parting into a wide, bright smile, one eyebrow slightly quirking – and he had dimples!
He was always handsome, she could admit this much – indeed, she would not have been half so affronted by his insult if he were not so attractive – but when he was easy and amused, he was a devastating sight.
And then the colonel saw her. He clung to Mr. Darcy with exaggerated dismay, and playfully pushed his cousin forward as if to sacrifice him, then took off running. Elizabeth took a step closer, and Mr. Darcy’s laughter ebbed, fading slowly as he held up his hands in mock surrender.
She needed only to take a few more steps toward him and clasp his hand in hers to mark him, as the game required.
Elizabeth stood frozen; she was concealed enough by the shadows to draw her hood back just a little and look at him properly.
He was not cross, as every other player had been when she and her compatriots eliminated them from the game.
He only looked terribly surprised as he stared down at her feet.
Her lavender velvet slippers, the same she had worn the night before, were peeking out from below her dark cloak. He recognized them.
She stepped closer and reached for his hand, but then stopped.
Rebecca and Mr. Bingley had agreed it would be a mercy to release him from a game that he must consider beneath his dignity, but now that the moment was upon her, Elizabeth found that she could not be the one to spoil his fun.
She had not imagined him capable of taking half so much pleasure in their unusual amusement, but she was glad that he did.
Her fingers twitched, and she told herself that he had felt no hesitation in ruining her enjoyment at the assembly so many months ago, as he might have done, for he must have been aware that she could hear him, and he could not have known she would only laugh, when most women would have wept at the slight.
Mr. Darcy’s shoulders slumped and he slowly extended his own hand, but Elizabeth sharply withdrew hers.
She dipped her head and then turned and fled.
When they next convened in the dining room, Lady Rebecca and Mr. Bingley seemed to struggle to conceal their disappointment that they had failed their task in this round, and Elizabeth was sure that the game was over for her, but Mr. Darcy appeared calm, seated at her side, and he did not name her.
He did, however, suggest that a failure to complete the murderous mission pointed to Mr. Bingley, and his cousin the colonel agreed with a hearty guffaw. Now he was making jests, too!
He was also protecting her, she realized.
When Mr. Bingley was cast out of the game and deposited his three guineas in the treasure chest, Mr. Darcy looked directly at Elizabeth, gave a slow nod of his head, and smiled at her.
She hardly had a moment to think before she was grinning back at him, and then she was dismissed from the room.
Up on the third floor, Colonel Fitzwilliam was the next to join their treacherous cohort. He was deliriously happy to be amongst them, for he had been sure he would be the next player marked for “death.” Now, he was ready with every manner of stratagems, and his sister grew more quarrelsome.
Lady Rebecca loudly lamented the loss of Mr. Bingley, and soundly admonished her brother for it. “You ought to have been next! Well, I suppose we had better do Darcy in, for I am sure he shall take no pleasure in the game without you.”
“He might, if Miss Bingley were not skulking about, trying to find herself alone in a dark room with him,” the colonel quipped; this was all the convincing Elizabeth needed to offer up the name of her nemesis as their victim, and a consensus was swiftly reached.
Elizabeth was the happy phantom to discover Miss Bingley.
She was indeed with Mr. Darcy, fawning over his good fortune in finding a crown that would protect him for this round, and coquettishly beseeching him to help her find one for herself.
When Elizabeth stepped out of the shadows, she saw that Mr. Darcy had indeed found another crown, but he secretly tucked it in his pocket rather than offering it to his companion.
Elizabeth moved ominously toward Miss Bingley, who began to beg and protest, until Elizabeth clasped her hand.
Miss Bingley declared that the whole game was stupid and she would rather be eating dessert and mingling in the parlor, and stormed out of the room. Mr. Darcy looked at Elizabeth with a grin. “Thank you,” he said, giving a jaunty bow.
In the dining room, Lady Rebecca was blamed for Miss Bingley’s elimination, and her own brother led the charge against her.
Their playful rivalry was amusing, and she accepted her defeat with good humor.
It was she who had selected the colonel to join their team; Elizabeth was given the next choice.
Her first inclination was that Jane should have the honor, but she had seen her sister several times, giggling and scampering about with Captain Wentworth – once they had even been hand in hand, feigning horror at the sight of Captain Benwick being marked.
Jane was enjoying herself in the company of her new beau, and Elizabeth would not deprive her sister of that pleasure.
Instead she chose Anne, who would be entirely deserving of a share in the prize, if they could manage to win. To Elizabeth’s surprise, Anne took to Colonel Fitzwilliam’s bloodthirsty scheming with alacrity, and eagerly proposed her own father as the next casualty.
Elizabeth continued to protect Jane, Captain Wentworth, and Mr. Darcy as the remaining players dwindled with every round.
Her fellow conspirators agreed, for each of them might be implicated in marking one of the gentlemen, and nobody could wish Jane any harm.
In the end, it was these three who were left with the phantoms when they convened for the final round of accusations.
They met not in the dining room but with the rest of their party in the parlor, so that everybody might enjoy the dramatic spectacle of the final reveal.
Lady Sophia moved to the hearth at the front the room, which had been cheerfully bright while the eliminated players congregated to enjoy dessert and conversation – at her signal, footmen extinguished more than half the candles and sconces, until it was lit as eerily as the old Tudor dining hall had been.
The atmosphere was again theatrical as the final six players stood before the rest of the party, who were held in a thrall of suspense.
Taking an ominous sip from her large goblet, Lady Sophia appeared to relish her hold on the excited group. “Innocent players, you have caught two phantoms in your midst – three more stand before you, among the final six. Have you any suspicions?”
While Lady Rebecca and Mr. Bingley insisted that they would reveal nothing to be of aid to the innocents who had spoiled their fun, several of the other eliminated players cried out their accusations. Elizabeth smiled defiantly as her name was mentioned more than once.
After a minute of merry uproar, Lady Sophia held up a hand to silence them, then gestured to the six remaining players. “Perhaps we must let our cunning friends here have their say – three amongst them are innocent, and so they must explain how they have managed to evade our devious phantoms.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam swept into a bow, then gestured to Elizabeth with a flourish. “Ladies first, of course.”
Elizabeth arched an eyebrow at him. “Are you stalling, colonel, to better prepare your own defense? But it is no matter, for I can happily assure you poor, slain innocents that I have nothing to hide – naught beyond a modicum of shame at fearing that I might suffer the same woeful fate.”
She stepped forward, palms up as she extended her hands to the group in a gesture that beckoned for mercy; she was utterly enjoying the final drama of the game.
“As to my survival, as it were, I can only credit it to my growing up in a large and boisterous family – I have long grown accustomed to hiding, and hiding well. Even so, I am sure there must be some of you who have seen me scurrying about the manor in terror. Anne, Mr. Darcy, you good and true innocents must speak for me.”
Anne readily agreed without the slightest trace of treachery in her tone, but it was to Mr. Darcy that Elizabeth looked.
She smiled and held his gaze, not insensible to the alluring aspect of the gentleman standing half in shadow and half lit by the blazing hearth.
He betrayed a small smile, a private little thing just for her, and gave a nod of his head before echoing Anne’s affirmation of Elizabeth’s innocence.
Jane and then Anne spoke up next, and then the colonel and his cousin made their defense.
Captain Wentworth was the last of the six called upon to speak, and rather than making any defense at all, he spoke only to accuse Colonel Fitzwilliam, Anne, and Elizabeth.
At the back of the room, somebody – Elizabeth strongly suspected Lady Rebecca – booed loudly.
Another minute or two of uproar ensued before Lady Sophia exerted herself to subdue the chaos.
Lady Rebecca had, with very little effort, whipped the excited party into a frenzy of accusation against Captain Wentworth, who stalked to the back of the room in frustration.
Mr. Darcy was the next player eliminated, causing a rowdy outcry when he, too, was revealed to be innocent.
Elizabeth relished the mayhem of the game’s conclusion with the same wicked glee as Lady Sophia and the other Goulding ladies, and she began to really want to win.
Beside her, Jane sucked in a sharp breath, realizing the three people still standing up with her must be the phantoms – and she had lost the game.
But her eyes shone with bemusement, and perhaps even a little pride, as she looked over at Elizabeth and raised her eyebrows.
The next great outcry was directed at Colonel Fitzwilliam, but Miss Elliot and Lady Julia Bixler rallied their companions against Elizabeth, as well.
Lady Sophia was obliged to call for a show of hands, but the numbers were equal; she declared that the last player eliminated would have the deciding vote.
Colonel Fitzwilliam looked remarkably confident; Anne took Elizabeth’s hand as if preparing to be very sorry for her.
But Elizabeth turned her gaze to Mr. Darcy, and he gave her a slow, subtle nod, prolonging the suspense of the moment.
His lips twitched upward as if he wished to suppress his mirth, but then he apparently changed his mind – or lost some internal struggle – for suddenly he was grinning broadly at Elizabeth.
“Richard, you are the phantom.”
The colonel confessed his misdeeds with unrepentant glee as the merry crowd cried out, a mixture of surprise and smug satisfaction. Lady Sophia retrieved the chest in which every eliminated player had placed their coins, and a hush fell over the room.
“I suppose those of you who have not had too much wine to count properly must know that you have not caught all the phantoms. The game is over, and the side of the righteous will not reap the reward this night.” Lady Sophia clucked her tongue, though she looked positively ecstatic that two of the villains of the game had prevailed.
“Only one of our final three is an innocent; she will have no share of the treasure, and so I must ask her to sit down.”
Jane turned and gave Elizabeth a playful kiss on the cheek. “Well done, you wicked wretch,” she whispered with a laugh before retreating to join Captain Wentworth.
Lady Sophia declared Elizabeth and Anne, the last elusive phantoms, to be the winners of the prize chest, which contained more than thirty pounds for them to share.
The Gardiners, Lady Rebecca, and Colonel Brandon gave enthusiastic cheers, while a few predictable malcontents grumbled their complaints.
Elizabeth embraced her friend, who was all humble amazement at their victory. “Lizzy, I have you to thank, I am sure! Oh, what fun – I wish we could play again directly!”
Elizabeth laughed and agreed, then raised her friend's hand in her own, making a triumphant pose as Lady Sophia rallied the rest of the party to applause.
Elizabeth found her gaze drifting again to Mr. Darcy, who might have exposed her guilt, but had chosen not to.
He looked so pleased with this outcome, one might think he had won the game himself.
And as he held her gaze, everything Elizabeth had overheard him say to Lady Rebecca was written plainly on his face, laid out in the open as if they were the only two people in the room.
Elizabeth’s rush of victory ebbed away, but she remained rooted in place, her chest still heaving with excitement, staring back at the man who had, to her astonishment, managed to make a considerable mark upon her heart that night.