I was two games in when the door to the study opened, but I didn’t care to look up and greet Kitty, so I stared determinedly at the board.
“What are you doing in here?”
The unexpected voice startled me into decorum, and I uncurled my spine, pressing it against the back of the chair as I rubbed at my cheek. There was probably a red mark from where I’d been slumped, but that couldn’t be helped.
It was Mary Bennet at the door. She had a book in her hand and kept her eyes fixed on me as she took several steps into the room and slid it onto a shelf, swapping it for the next volume in the set without even looking.
“I saw the chessboard and I—” I began, ready to launch into an apology.
“This is Father’s study.”
My mortification was instant and overwhelming. Mr. Bennet lay ill in bed, and I’d been curled up in his chair like it was my own. Even with his permission to borrow from the shelves, I was taking far too many liberties.
“My apologies,” I mumbled, my entire face crimson. “Forgive me, I will—”
I climbed clumsily to my feet, knocking over half the chess pieces in my attempt to clear the board away and return it to its home. Mary rushed forwards to the other side of the desk, carefully helping me gather them up. She checked each one for any sign of damage, glaring at me even when she seemed to find them all unharmed.
“You ought not to treat them like toys,” she chastised me. “It is a game of skill, if you know how to play.”
“I know. I play a little,” I admitted, stopping shy of the truth that I played so little because there were few people left I had not so frequently bested they’d lost their patience to play against me.
Mary’s disapproval gave way almost instantly to intrigue.
“Can I interest you in a game?” she asked, feigning far more casualness than I could see in her eyes.
I answered with a nod, quickly helping her to reset the pieces. She dragged another chair over from the corner so she could sit on the far side of the desk from me, leaning forwards to rest on her elbows and get a better view of the board. It was a more relaxed demeanour than I’d seen from her so far.
I didn’t take every opportunity she left me to attack, nordid I play so purposefully poorly as I had when I’d first played Kitty. There was something fun about the challenge of engineering the perfect game. A white lie of a conclusion was harder to manipulate than an immediate win, but eventually Mary called a checkmate and I conceded the victory. When I looked up from the board, she was smiling. It was a look of genuine contentment I wasn’t sure I’d seen from her before.
“Where did you learn?” she asked.
“My brother taught me when I was six. Anything he knew how to do, I wanted to copy.”
Mary nodded, listening but distant. “Father tried to teach all of us a few years ago, but Kitty and Lydia couldn’t be persuaded to take interest. Lizzy was tolerable, but has always preferred books. Jane liked it best, besides me, but after she married, it was only Father who would sit and play with me, and then only on the rare occasion.”
“I similarly lack opponents.” I smiled, automatically moving to set up the pieces again. Mary didn’t stop me. “Your sister still prefers her books, and my brother lives in fear of being bested by the one to whom he taught the tricks.”
We began another game without formal declaration. Mary simply reached out and moved the first piece, and the rematch was afoot.
This time, I orchestrated a victory for myself, but a hard-fought one. A game that could have lasted less than two minutes stretched out to ten, but Mary didn’t grow bored. She studied each move carefully, with such intent that I could practically see the pieces shifting on the board as she plottedseveral moves ahead. Her strategy was not unpractised, and I could see how her sisters might tire of playing with her—they would likely often lose, if they treated the game casually.
“You play well,” Mary observed as she considered how to rescue her king from the check I’d backed him into. It could be done. She could even end the game with a win if she was clever about it, but probably not against me.
There was a knock at the door before Mary could make her next move, and we looked up at each other in surprise. No one else but Mr. Bennet seemed to use the room, and he would not knock to enter his own study. Likely presuming, as I did, that it was the maid hoping to dust the shelves, Mary called out for them to enter.
Kitty pushed the door open tentatively before stepping into the room and standing with her hands tucked behind her back, her head bowed slightly in at least mock contrition.
“May I speak with you?” Kitty asked. Her eyes fell briefly on Mary, before returning to me, heavy with intention. “Somewhere quiet?”
“I’m afraid you’ve found me busy,” I said, still not making eye contact.
Mary moved a knight, and I quickly countered her attempted escape with my queen. Before Mary could move again, Kitty cleared her throat. When Mary turned to glare, they had the kind of conversation only two siblings could engineer. It was entirely silent and deployed the language of a number of fierce glares, pointed looks, and exasperated sighs. Eventually Mary climbed to her feet with a huff.
“We will need to have a rematch, Miss Darcy,” she said with a nod to me, before leaving without paying Kitty any mind.
I ignored Kitty for a few moments further while I reset the chessboard, watching out of the corner of my eye as she perched on the edge of the chair Mary had vacated. Once the final pawn was back in position, I looked up and made sure she saw my scowl.
“That was rude,” I chastised her. “We were in the middle of a game.”
