Page 16 of Conundrums & Coincidences

Turning his back to the watery window, Mr Hadley exclaimed, “Games! If we are to be confined to the house because of this ghastly wet, I propose we play parlour games here in the parlour. Or perhaps, more appropriately, we might play them in the games room. What do you say?”

“I say,” Miss Kensett said rather drily, “that parlour games should be played only in the parlour.”

Elizabeth thought the note of sarcasm in the lady’s voice and the sneer on her face most unbecoming. “I think,” said she, “that parlour games are a splendid idea whether played here in the parlour or in the games room.” She leant forwards, waiting with eager anticipation for the others to agree.

A groan emanated from the vicinity of the plush pink sofa. Mr Fordham might even have muttered an oath. “I shall decline. It has been years since I participated in that sort of frivolity. Most likely never, come to think of it.”

The chaperon and the attorney declared they were too advanced in years to engage in parlour games; and seated on opposite ends of a striped sofa, Miss Kensett and Mr Darcy remained, respectively, sullen and silent and as dull as the day. Glancing at all the sour, uninspired faces, Elizabeth suspected Mr Hadley and she were the only light-hearted people in the room. By then, though, even he had donned a woebegone expression.

One glance at that young man’s disappointed face must have given Miss Rigby second thoughts because, after quietly consulting with Mr Monroe, she addressed the room. “Tut-tut. Such dreadful indifference! Come, come, everyone. We must not curb the vivacity of our two youngest companions.”

“Hear, hear!” Mr Monroe injected a dose of enthusiasm into his voice. “Let us not add to the gloom of this dreary day. We all shall be delighted to play parlour games, Mr Hadley.”

Miss Kensett yawned behind her fan before speaking in a listless manner. “Oh goody. I am in utter ecstasy at the very thought.” Languidly, she turned to Mr Darcy and placed bejewelled fingers upon his sleeve. “What say you, sir? Shall we plunge our faces in flour and our fingers in flames?”

Elizabeth wanted to roll her eyes but would not. In such cases as these, one must be gracious and easy-going. However, I could neither speak listlessly nor move languidly, even if my life depended upon it. And, Miss Kensett, do stop pawing at Mr Darcy.

“No, no, Miss Kensett,” Mr Hadley was saying, “nothing so hazardous as Bullet Pudding or Snapdragon. I suggest Buffy Gruffy, Musical Magic, or Short Answers. Or all three!”

Another groan emanated from the plush pink sofa. Its disapprobation, having been expressed, was immediately disregarded.

Mr Darcy flung aside his newspaper. “Buffy Gruffy? Surely you jest.”

“Up!” Mr Monroe shot to his feet. “Everyone, up! We are for the games room. Miss Rigby and I shall brook no disappointment.” He offered his arm to the chaperon, and they led the mostly grumbling parade out of the parlour.

There was some manoeuvring for position in the games room once Christopher had been ordered to arrange seven chairs in a circle.

Miss Kensett had insisted Mr Darcy sit beside her, but both he and Mr Hadley had scrambled for seats on either side of Elizabeth.

Seeking a favourable position had been for nought. Once the first player was blindfolded—Mr Hadley since Buffy Gruffy had been his idea—the others silently rose from their chairs and swapped places. “Now remember,” said the ringleader from the centre of the circle, “you must respond honestly or risk a forfeit. And do try your best to disguise your voice.”

To initiate the game, Mr Monroe clapped, and with an enthusiastic step, Mr Hadley walked round in front of the others several times, bumping into knees. Finally stopping at a particular chair, he said, “Are you a man or a woman?”

In a prim falsetto that suspiciously sounded like Miss Kensett’s voice, Mr Darcy said, “How dare you question my sex, sir!”

Someone snickered. Someone else gasped. Elizabeth’s jaw dropped. Good heavens. The staid gentleman is actually cooperating and performing.

“Well, madam,” said Mr Hadley, “if you have to pay a forfeit in this parlour game, which of the men here will you kiss?”

Someone, being Mr Fordham, snickered again.

The tips of Mr Darcy’s ears reddened. “I suppose”—his falsetto had risen higher—“I would choose…Mr Darcy. But I⁠—”

“Ha! I do not even need to ask a final question. You are Mr Darcy!”

“Was I not convincing?”

“No.” Smiling, Mr Hadley removed the blindfold and handed it to him.

With more good humour than Elizabeth anticipated, Mr Darcy went to the centre, donned the blindfold, and waited while seats were exchanged and until someone clapped. He then took his time walking inside the circle, seemingly listening for telltale signs and trying to distinguish each person’s scent.

Elizabeth’s eyes widened when, on his second pass, he stopped directly in front of her. She had not made a sound. Had he detected the essences she distilled? The unique fragrance she created for herself in Longbourn’s still room featured clover, apple, violet, and cucumber.

“Have you ever visited the Hunsford parsonage in Kent?” His shins were but a hairbreadth from Elizabeth’s knees.

What can he mean by introducing such a weighty subject in the company of others?

His fine, tall form, his deep voice, his very proximity produced within her such vibrations that it was difficult to breathe let alone answer. Modulating her tone, Elizabeth spoke gently, like Miss Rigby. “Why yes, young man, I have.”