When neither Bennet responded, the tension was so thick it was palpable. Her expression did not soften. If anything, her eyes grew colder. “Your apology is noted, Mr. Darcy. But words,as I believe you will agree, come easy. I require tangible proof that you are a gentleman, as you claim.”
“Name it.”
The Bennets stepped apart, revealing a small table behind them. “Your humiliation, sir. Witnessed and complete.”
Two chairs flanked the table.What on earth?Shock and confusion gave way to a dawning realization.
Richard gasped at seeing the chessboard.
Slower than usual, Darcy’s confusion gave way to understanding. She proposed an intellectual skirmish. No bloodshed.Thank God!
Rubbing his hand over his mouth, he admired her cleverness.
His eyes traveled from the weapons box to the table to the board. The pieces were lined up alongside, waiting to be set in place.
What did this mean about her character? Her intelligence? Her strategy? This shift from physical danger to intellectual combat was somehow more terrifying.
Her eyes were bright. Alert. He knew from glancing in the mirror before they departed Netherfield Park that his face was pale, mind and body exhausted.
The fabric of her skirt rustled when she moved to take a seat, her father standing behind her. She stripped off her gloves, her fingertips tapping on the edge of the board.
Richard stepped forward, grinning at the absurdity. “I must say, in all my years in the military service, this is the most unusual challenge I have ever witnessed.”
“Then you are a fortunate soldier, Colonel,” Mr. Bennet replied dryly. “Most duels end in blood. This will end in education.”
Elizabeth stared at Darcy, ignoring Richard.
Formal introductions were an absurdity of politeness in this moment. Mr. Bennet gestured to the empty seat in front of thewhite pieces. “Elizabeth, my second daughter, has been learning to play since the age of ten. She is a proficient, I believe. Since you shall start first, we shall see what sort of chess master you are, Mr. Darcy.”
Elizabeth added, “The terms are simple. Best-of-three games if we tie after the first two. Otherwise, the first to win two games will be declared the winner. We all know what that will make the opponent.”
“The loser,” Richard offered unnecessarily.
Darcy barely responded, still reeling. He sat, facing her. The cold seeped through their clothing, their breath visible in the air. Dew on the grass dampened their boots. Her hem must be soaked. Uncomfortable. Yet, poise and delight best described her persona.
Like her, he removed his gloves. The last thing he needed was to be clumsy.
Darcy bowed. “I accept your terms, Miss Bennet. We will have our battle.”
Richard and Mr. Bennet stood behind the chairs as seconds. The weight of what was about to happen settled on Darcy’s shoulders. Under typical circumstances, he enjoyed playing chess, especially with someone who knew the game well.
Seeing determination, he knew what she saw—weariness, guilt, and uncertainty. He knew he was not at his best. But he needed to be.
Sitting erect, he cleared his throat, rubbing his palms on his trouser legs.
In the absolute stillness, she said, “Sir, shall we begin? Or do you require time to prepare yourself?”
He placed the white pieces on the board, then waited for her to do the same with the black. When she was done, he rotated the board so she would have the initial move.
“Ladies first.”
Her brow arched. Her hand hovered over a pawn. He waited impatiently for her to make her move.
Elizabeth openedwith the King’s Pawn, an aggressive, classical move. “Did you attend Cambridge or Oxford, sir?”
“Cambridge.”
“I see.” She placed the piece with deliberate precision. “Did they teach strategy there, or merely arrogance?”
