Darcy turned towards a window. Across the room, Elizabeth stood in lively conversation with Miss Lucas, animated in a genuine way Miss Bingley could never be. He had spent years in London ballrooms with women like Caroline Bingley, who smiled with calculation, who spoke with artificial sweetness, and who valued connections and consequence above all else.
Women who would never challenge his opinions, never surprise him, never make him examine himself. He had been bored and never realized it until that moment.
Miss Elizabeth had done nothing but challenge him from the moment she overheard his foolish insult. She looked past his name and fortune to judge his character.
There was no comparison between her and Miss Bingley’s sort. Bingley’s sister and her ilk represented everything hollow in his world. Miss Elizabeth was truth in a world of carefully constructed illusions.
He had made the correct choice. The only choice. Now came the challenge of convincing her.
6
The next morning, another small package was delivered to Longbourn. Elizabeth recognized the brown paper wrapping as soon as her father held it out to her. Her heart quickened. She told herself it was nothing more than curiosity.
Her father’s expression was far too knowing for her comfort. “Your mysterious correspondent continues his campaign, I see.”
The string came away easily. The paper fell back. Her breath caught, as it had before.
This piece showed more of the chessboard, the squares continuing the pattern from where the first ended. The edge of her sleeve appeared, the cornflower blue rendered with the same painstaking detail. Her hand was more visible, reaching just beyond the edge of the paper. A chess piece stood on one of the white squares. A pawn, only partially shown, but unmistakable.
“Well?” Her father could no longer hide his amusement. “What do you make of the second installment?”
“I will not know until I see it with the first section.”
At the lift of his brow, she rushed to her room, carefully setting it alongside the newly received portion once she returned to her father’s library.
Together, they created a larger picture, a scene from their duel taking shape, though still maddeningly incomplete.
“He is being strategic,” she murmured. The edges aligned perfectly.
“I agree.” Her father leaned back in his chair. “Let me see… You attended Lucas Lodge yesterday. You spoke with Mr. Darcy privately—do not bother denying it, half the room noticed. And now, you are presented with a mysterious drawing.” He picked up the second piece to examine it more closely. “His technique is precise with extraordinary attention to detail. Notice where the pawn is placed. He positioned it directly in the center of the square. This is not a casual sketch, dear girl, but a work of careful deliberation. Hours of work, I should think.” He looked at her over his spectacles. “The sender is quite determined to communicate his message to you.”
“I wish I knew what,” Elizabeth said, regretting immediately that she spoke aloud.
Her father’s smile was gentle. “I suspect you will know soon enough. How many more pieces do you suppose there will be?”
She retrieved the chessboard they used for the duel. Matching the pattern on the edge, she laid her wrist exactly where it was positioned in the drawing. “These two pieces only need one more to cover this side. If the rest are of the same size, there should be…”
“Seven more. So nine altogether,” her father replied.
“Yes.”
“And will there be seven more encounters with Mr. Darcy to precede them?”
“I cannot control who attends local social gatherings, Papa.”
“No, but you can control how much time you spend in his company, Lizzy dear.” He handed her both pieces. “I find it interesting that you permitted him to approach you at Lucas Lodge.”
Elizabeth held the drawings carefully. “I promised Mama I would be civil. Nothing more.”
“Ah, yes. Civil.” Her father’s eyes twinkled. “Is that what they are calling it now?”
“Papa!”
He chuckled, then waved her to the door. “Go. I am sure you will carefully study those pieces with purely academic interest and nothing more.”
Elizabeth fled before he could see her blush deepen.
In her chamber, she arranged the pieces together on her dressing table. The chessboard. Her hand. The waiting pawn.
