“Oh dear,” she laughed in reply. “I suppose it is once again up to me to feel the fear and demonstrate the courage.”
She finished her written grid of Mr Darcy’s long-distance game and then swiftly set up the pieces for the new game. As Darcy moved to help with the set up, their ungloved hands accidentally collided. She felt a shock as if electrified, and she met his eyes as he looked up at her, as well. He was not smiling with his lips, but she thought she detected a smile in his eyes.
Elizabeth realised that she would be hard-pressed to play well at all. But Mr Darcy seemed to have the same thought; he murmured, “I doubt I will acquit myself well in the game, with such a distraction before me.”
That, clearly, was flirtation, and Elizabeth felt as if her heart and lungs were going to misbehave.There is still no possibility that we can marry, coming from such different stations in life, she reminded herself.But surely he would not have dishonourable intentions?
They took their chairs, Darcy having given Elizabeth the choice of playing first or second. The game commenced with rapid moves. She focused so closely on the chessboard, she did not even notice Mary approaching until her sister said, “I will put your wine glass just here, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth shot her a smile, a nod, a spoken thank you, but she dared not look at Mr Darcy, nor did she take a sip. She went back to her tight focus on the game play.
Mr Darcy won in twenty minutes.
“Another?” he challenged.
“I cannot sit so long as to play two more, but I will play one more if you consent to end in a tie, for surely this time I will win.”
“Certainly. I would love to be in a tie with you.”
Unfortunately, he won again, this time in a bit more than half an hour.
Elizabeth laughed and said, “Well done, sir. I look forward to playing again someday.”
“You play with great composure,” Mr Darcy acknowledged. “And, best of all, speed. I hope we can play again soon.”
He was not setting up for a new game with her, though. Elizabeth was surprised to see that he was quickly setting up the board as it had been when they first entered the library.
She checked the grid she had drawn up, wondering if he had accurately remembered the positions of every piece—and she was impressed to see that he had.
“Well, sir, I am not positive I should ever go against you again. You seem to have a powerful intellect that affords me little dignity.”
He whispered, “’Tis a good thing, then, that neither of us care much for dignity, but rather we enjoy matching wits.”
And his eyes met and held hers.
Elizabeth realised that her sisters were preparing to leave, and she hurried to say goodbye and express gratitude to Mr Bingley for his hospitality, and to Mr Darcy for the chess games and the riding lesson. As she left the manor house, she could barely attend to anything other than her awareness that, despite all her internal lectures, she had fallen in love with Mr Darcy.
Five
Bingley approached his friend and said, “Darcy, I am certain, now, that I am in love with Miss Bennet. And you seem equally in love with Miss Elizabeth. Can we acknowledge our feelings and plan our next steps?”
Darcy grinned at his friend. “You have known Miss Bennet for two weeks now, and I have known Miss Elizabeth for about five years, two months, and two weeks. I know my long-standing regard; I know my feelings and their duration. I do not know if you can differentiate between love and infatuation, with so short a relationship.”
Bingley felt his eyes widen at his good friend’s comparison. “You knowing Miss Elizabeth for all that time cannot completely compare to me knowing Miss Bennet this past fortnight.” He thought hard and said, “Miss Elizabeth must have been very young when you met her. And you were only together for a few hours each day, for a few days, back in Ramsgate, I imagine.”
He raised his eyebrows in question, and Darcy nodded, looking as if he was biting back a smile. Bingley tried to glare at him—even though glaring was not something he often attempted, and he was not positive how fierce he might look.
Apparently, not all that fierce. Darcy chuckled.
Still, Bingley argued on. “So then, the rest of your acquaintance has been through letters exchanged from the ladies to your own much-younger sister. I know that you might know some of the outlines of their lives, their experiences, perhaps even their education and knowledge. But can you really know of Miss Elizabeth’s character from her self-reporting through letters? Can you know how well you would do together from so little time together?”
“First, I have not declared my feelings for her, and I certainly have not made a verbal or behavioural commitment to Miss Elizabeth. Second, I have more than her own self-reports to go on, since I have also been privileged to read Miss Bennet’s letters, which are full of tales about Miss Elizabeth. Also, being here for a fortnight, all that I had learnt before is now in context with how other people treat her, what her friends, family, and neighbours say about her, and how I see her treat others. So, even if I had already proposed marriage to her—which I have not—I would clearly know more about her, for longer, than if I spent six months visiting her in her mother’s parlour.”
Bingley’s shoulders sagged. “I suppose you are correct. But, blast it, Darce. I do not wish to wait five years! And Miss Bennet would certainly be snapped up if I attempted to wait!”
“I agree,” Darcy said. “However, you have never, so far as I know, had an infatuation that lasted beyond a month. At least wait that long before you deepen your commitment. You are already singling her out so often that I am worried that there are some expectations. Just be certain that you can happily offer for her if it turns out that your frequent attentions give rise to so much expectation that you would ruin her if you were to break from Miss Bennet.
Bingley felt a thrill of alarm at the notion that he might already be in too deep, but he pushed aside the fear, telling himself that Jane was the one-and-only for him.
