“Lilacs,” he answered with confidence.
“Is that correct, Lizzy?” Mrs. Gardiner asked. “I had thought it was daisies.”
In the interest of fairness, Elizabeth admitted Darcy was correct, but her cheeks seemed destined to get progressively pinker throughout this game. As with the other games, they were fairly evenly matched.
She knew the name of his first dog, Harold, and his favourite horse, Poseidon.
He knew her middle name, Anne, and the book she was currently reading, Thomas Hutchinson’s History of Massachusetts, which her father had gifted her before she left for the summer.
He did not know what arrangement she was working on with her music master—she could hardly blame him; she barely remembered that it was Mozart’s Sonatina in C major before Mary said it. She did not know what two languages he spoke beyond English. Her answer was French and Italian, the former she knew and the latter was a guess. In reality, Darcy spoke French and German.
“Should I not be awarded partial credit?” Elizabeth pressed when Mr. Darcy revealed the answer.
“I suppose,” he conceded. “Then it would only seem fair to give Fitzwilliam a question where he could also get partial credit. That way, he has the opportunity to win outright, tie or lose with this potentially final question.” With that, their host looked to the Gardiners and Mary.
“I may have an appropriate question,” Mary offered. “Although possibly it is too obscure. It has to do with our family.”
“Family is fair game,” Mr. Darcy assured her. “Elizabeth speaks about hers more often than Fitzwilliam speaks German, so I think it should work.”
“I agree,” Darcy said, aiming Elizabeth’s favourite smile at Mary. “I am quite ready, Miss Mary. Do your worst.”
“Yes, Mary, we are on tenterhooks. Ask away,” she said, drawing Mary’s attention and snapping her out of the Darcy-induced trance. His power was considerable; it was not just her.
“Of course,” Mary said, smoothing her skirts and looking back at Darcy. “Can you name Elizabeth’s sisters from eldest to youngest?” Just when Darcy looked about to answer—with an air of confidence—she added, “And our ages.”
“I see what you are about, Mary,” Mr. Gardiner laughed.
“Yes, well, Jane is the eldest, Lydia the youngest and in between is Miss Elizabeth, Miss Mary and Miss Catherine, whom I believe you call Kitty.”
“Very good, sir,” Elizabeth said. “And our ages?”
“You are fifteen as of today.”
“Of course, you know that. We are celebrating my birthday, after all.”
“And of your sisters, I know you best. I assure you, you could ask me your age any other day of the year and I would know it then too.”
His response seemed calculated to steal the air from her lungs and unbalance the ground on which she stood. But of course, it was not. He had simply stated facts—fairly unremarkable ones at that. His intentions notwithstanding, Elizabeth was left breathless and unsteady. Heedless of this, Darcy went on.
“Miss Bennet is seventeen. Miss Mary thirteen. I believe you will turn fourteen sometime in December.”
“That is right,” Mary said with a degree of awe in her voice. “I believe our birthdays are close to one another.”
Elizabeth did not like the sound of anything of Mary’s being close to anything of Darcy’s.
“Indeed, yours is the thirteenth and his the first,” she said, hoping she had concealed her impatience.
“Are you seeking bonus points, Miss Elizabeth?” Darcy asked with that infuriatingly adorable quirked brow. “I will leave that determination to the judges and continue with my answers which now become less certain. Miss Catherine is, I believe, twelve, and Lydia eleven.”
“Three out of five,” Mrs. Gardiner declared. “Kitty is eleven and Lydia ten.”
“Well, since three-fifths is more than one-half, does that mean Master Fitzwilliam is the winner?” Mary asked.
“It is not entirely fair, though, as I had the chance to get to five, where Miss Elizabeth only had two potential answers,” Darcy pointed out.
“You two and your fair play,” Mr. Darcy huffed. “At this rate we will never get to the prize!”
“We have five Fitzwilliam cousins. Perhaps if Lizzy can put them in order of Fitzwilliam’s preference, we can be done with it then,” Georgiana said, possibly as a jest, but Elizabeth did not think before speaking, as she knew the answer.
