16
Hartham took his dismissal well and followed Saye to the adjoining room in search of a drink. The din of all those around them faded as Darcy regarded Elizabeth, his heart racing both from the thrill of being left with only her at his side, and from the perverse anticipation of the dressing-down he knew—from the angry flush that had arisen on her neck and face—was coming.
For a moment, they stood in silence, her glaring at him, him smiling at her. Finally she said, “You cheated. You are a-a pigeon-plucker!”
That made him chuckle, which made her draw in a deep breath and look around as though summoning her patience. Sobering, he said, “You are the victor, Miss Bennet, so if I did cheat, then surely I did it badly.”
“I am not in need of your charity.” She crossed her arms and, with a little flounce, added, “As I once heard someone else say, ‘return to your partner and enjoy her smiles’.”
He tried very hard not to delight in that. Could she be jealous after all? Might Saye’s stratagem actually have worked? “It seems more misunderstandings have arisen between us,” he said placatingly.
“I do not believe I have misunderstood anything,” she retorted.
“May I escort you to the balcony?”
“What?” She frowned. “Why?”
“We may speak more privately there.”
“We might speak privately in any number of places, but I am not presently convinced I wish to talk to you at all, let alone on the balcony.”
“Please?”
Indecision warred in her eyes, but at length, she gave a reluctant nod and turned. Picking up a lamp as she went, she led the way out of the room and up the stairs to the library.
Saye—or rather his servants—had organised the rooms for the party into some semblance of order, but the library was an area of active renovation, with ladders and plaster buckets in plenitude and nearly everything covered with protective canvas cloth. There appeared to be a slight crack on the wall that backed onto the bedchamber that Saye now occupied; Darcy resolved to bring it to Tucker’s attention at the earliest opportunity.
He held the balcony door open for Elizabeth, and she crossed immediately to the balustrade, looking out over the darkened shoreline. He had hoped for romantic moonlight or something of that sort, but with the setting of the sun, clouds had rolled in from the sea, rendering the night stagnant and grey. Still, they were alone, and not even the darkest clouds could detract from that pleasure.
“Saye once lost two thousand pounds at whist,” he began gently as he stepped to her side. “He does not stop until he can best a person, any person. I would not see you lose what you have only so lately gained.”
“And yet, he did stop, did he not? He lost to us, largely due to your manoeuvres.”
“He stopped only because he means to take Hartham later. I assure you, Saye does not see defeat, only a setback.”
“Be that as it may, do you think I lack the sense to stop when I see I am out of my depth?” She turned to more fully face him. “In any case, you will need to answer to your cousin, for he offered me fifty pounds if I threw the game.”
Darcy chuckled, his eyes not leaving Elizabeth’s countenance. “I should have known he had his own angle. At least I saved him fifty pounds.”
“And cost him nearly one hundred, making me look a fool in the process!”
“How so?”
“Everybody could see what you were doing. Do you think I enjoyed Miss Larkin’s condescending looks every time you ‘rescued’ me? Pray do anything but pity me. Having had an ample serving of both, I believe I prefer your scorn to your pity.”
“Upon my word, I feel neither towards you!”
“How else would you explain it but that you thought to save me the embarrassment of being outwitted, outranked, and outplayed? You felt sorry for me!” She turned back to the door, shaking her head. “I should not have agreed to this. I am returning to the party.”
She crossed the balcony in two strides and pulled the door open—or tried to. In her pique, she graspedhold of the door handle too tightly, twisted it too quickly and with too much force—or so it was to be supposed by the manner in which it came off in her hand, and the ominous clunking sound on the other side of the door. For a moment, she only stared down at the broken piece in her hand, mouth agape.
“Allow me.” Ruing how awry his stolen moment alone with Elizabeth had gone, Darcy reached for the handle, taking it from her. He could see the problem: the connecting rod had rusted through, likely due to the constant exposure to the sea air. Repair would be impossible for now. He hooked his finger into the hole where the handle had once been and tugged, but to no avail. He considered smashing the glass and reaching through, but apart from not wishing to distress Elizabeth with even more costly damage to her house, he was not sure it would help. The door ought to have swung free once the handle broke, but it was inexplicably stuck. If part of the mechanism had lodged in the latch, it would not be opened easily from either side.
Elizabeth was watching him closely and, seeing his efforts were in vain, evidently reached the same conclusion. She closed her eyes tightly; they flew open a moment later at the sound of a loud crack of thunder.
A glance over his shoulder revealed to Darcy that a storm had sprung up. The scent of rain was suddenly heavy in the air and a brisk wind stirred.
Elizabeth applied her strength to attempting to tug the door open. “We are going to catch our deaths!”
