Silence surrounded them. She searched his face for deception, for false flattery. His eyes held only contrition and regret.
Her temper long subsided during the match, allowing uncertainty to creep in. Yet, she needed to make her point.
Quietly but firmly, she said, “Your apology is noted, sir. And your words are pretty. You have taught me today as well.”
“What is that?”
“I accept your apology, Mr. Darcy. You have recognized your error and expressed your regret, which speaks better of you than your initial assessment of me did.” Her chin lifted. “However, I have no wish to continue our acquaintance. I look forward to never seeing you again, sir.”
Darcy’s breathleft him as if she had struck him across the face.
After three steps toward their carriage, she stopped and looked back over her shoulder. Her eyes moved from Darcy to Richard, then back to Darcy. “Speak of this to no one,” she said. Not a request. A command.
Then she walked away, her spine erect, refusing to look back again.
Darcy stood frozen as she retreated. Even in rejection, she was magnificent.
Running his hand through his hair, Darcy swore under his breath.
Mr. Bennet swiped the chess pieces into a box, gathered the board, and turned to him before following his daughter to their carriage. “You played well, sir. In both games.”
Darcy knew what the man wanted to add.But not well enough.
Their driver and a footman quickly carted the table and chairs to the Bennet conveyance. Within moments, they were gone, leaving no evidence of the bloody battle that had occurred. No evidence of his defeat.
Even so, she could have simply ignored him, dismissed him as beneath her notice. Instead, she gave him a chance to prove himself.
Not once in his adult life had a female taken him to task. In fact, not once since his parents died had he received such pointed discipline. An ancient prophet concluded that discipline heeded bore peaceable fruit. He had to learn from his defeat. He promised himself that he would not shrug this off as an anomaly. He would not claim fatigue or indifference. No, the lessons would become part of his character, or his failure would be complete.
Richard slapped him on the shoulder. “Well, that went rather badly.”
Waiting until they were out of sight, Darcy said, “I am going to marry her, Richard.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Turning to his cousin, his expression intense, he confirmed, “I am going to marry her. I do not know how. But I only want Miss Elizabeth Bennet as my wife.”
Richard burst into incredulous laughter. “Darcy, she told you she looks forward to never seeing you again.”
A small, determined smile appeared. “I know. Which means I have a great deal of work to do.”
Clasping his shoulder, Richard chortled. “A great deal of work, indeed.”
4
Elizabeth stared out the window at the morning landscape as they left the field behind. Everything that happened, everything spoken, scrolled through her mind like a reel of images—the games, his apology, her rejection.
She won. Decisively. Twice. Where was the anticipated triumph? The joy of victory? Instead, an unnamed feeling churned in her stomach. She suspected he would have been a worthier competitor if he had been rested. He was…he was…what, exactly?
Looking back at her father, she wished she had not seen that peculiar expression he wore when he knew something she did not want to hear.
“Well, Lizzy,” he said finally, breaking the silence she had been hiding in. “What did you make of Mr. Darcy?”
“Justice was served, Papa.” She kept her eyes on the window, avoiding the question because even thinking of him made her uncomfortable.
“Hmm, justice,” he repeated. “Yes, I suppose it was.”
“What did you see?” She tried to keep the defensive edge from her tone but failed.
