Page 30 of Conundrums & Coincidences

Everyone waved her a fond farewell except for Mr Fordham. He was there, but his pleased expression spoke more of good riddance than good wishes.

In her bedchamber that night, waiting for Rachel to come and unbutton her gown and unpin her hair, Elizabeth ended her day in much the same manner as she had begun it—lost in a brown study and oppressed by a multitude of widely differing emotions.

Miss Kensett’s departure meant she then was the competition’s sole female participant. Had it not been for complications with her latest puzzle, Elizabeth would have been confident she could hold her own against the three gentlemen. The engaging qualities of her mind were a matter of pride, and they had placed her first in her father’s esteem. But what she really needed was to be first in the tournament.

Focusing on problem solving and winning should have been her constant priority, but several diverting occurrences—Mr Darcy’s ailment, his recovery, his amorous behaviour, and Miss Kensett’s incidents with pearls and marbles and disqualification—had distracted Elizabeth from her purpose. Only two days remained, and she wondered where the time had gone.

Rachel hurried in and apologised for being tardy. “Etta—Henrietta, that is—and a chambermaid were cleaning Miss Kensett’s room, and they discovered this.”

Elizabeth accepted a folded, sealed single sheet of writing paper addressed to her. Seated at the dressing table while her hair was being unpinned and brushed, she broke the wafer and read the message.

Dear Miss Bennet,

To write long sentences about unpleasant subjects is both tedious and odious, so I shall not.

I only write at all because, of all the others at Oakwood, you were the only one to show me any degree of kindness, though cool and paltry a degree it was. But I begin to understand now, when it is too late, that tournament rules were not meant to be broken.

Nevertheless, despite your uncompromisingness, I hope you will be victorious. Why? Because you are a woman; and if you win, you may become an independent one, and at a much younger age than Miss Armstrong was when she gained control of all that wealth.

Of course, I would have preferred to be the vanquisher. I then might have escaped the influence and control of my father and brother. Alas, it seems I am not quite as clever as you.

Therefore, I am counting on you to outwit Mr Hadley, Mr Darcy, and—most of all—Mr Fordham. Do not trust that man! He is nothing but a weasel and a⁠—

My carriage is ready, and Miss Rigby is giving me that gimlet-eyed glare of hers.

Perhaps, Miss Bennet, when you are mistress of Oakwood Manor, you will remember me and invite me for a visit. My direction, I fear, will still be thus: Under my father’s or brother’s thumb, Maidenhead, Berkshire.

In the meantime, I remain not your friend but a well-wishing acquaintance,

Sophia Kensett

Elizabeth knew the woman possessed neither quickness nor strong understanding. But why did she not complete her warning about Mr Fordham?

Upon giving the letter a second reading, she felt utterly ashamed of herself.

Poor Miss Kensett! To be in such a predicament! Within minutes of becoming acquainted with her, I suspected she was all pretence and fragility. Why did I not try harder to befriend her? ’Tis little wonder she wanted to capture Mr Darcy’s attention. I pray that one day she will either marry a good man or gain her independence and escape her family’s tyranny.

“Shall I help with your gown now, Miss Bennet?”

“My apologies, Rachel. I had not realised you were waiting.” Rising from the stool and holding her hair aside, Elizabeth remained still while the back of her gown was unbuttoned. Then, rather distractedly, she thanked and dismissed the maid for the night.

Once abed and with feelings in every way agitated, Elizabeth found repose only with great difficulty. The inquietude of her mind caused so much tossing and turning that she finally exhausted herself and slept.

In a heavy mist, Tuesday dawned half-heartedly, and Elizabeth was awake to witness it. Following her morning toilette, she sat in her bedchamber, longing to be out there, enwrapped in the silvery-grey veil.

Equally desirous of solving her puzzle, she stared at the foolscap on the table in front of her. The paper already bore numerous failed attempts to rearrange the letters in ‘Hearts shall weave’. Unsure whether such a method would even prove to be the solution, she flung down her pencil in vexation.

For her mother and younger sisters’ sake, she had to win. They were dependent on her providing for them should Mr Bennet die before at least one of his daughters wed a gentleman in possession of a good fortune. And, despite Sunday’s talks on hope, followed by Mr Darcy’s marked attentions, Elizabeth would not allow herself to hope for more than Jane to marry Mr Bingley.

She surrendered to disheartenment for but a moment while her eyes filled with tears of frustration. Angrily, she wiped them away before they could fall, and she flatly refused to work herself into a state of further distress. At that juncture, the honour of victory was doubtful; but she had come too far and was too close to winning to admit defeat.

Resolute, she knew what must be done. The puzzle could wait. A walk amongst misty verdure and dew-kissed blooms would soon set her right. Wearing half-boots and an unlined cloak with attached hood, Elizabeth reached the bottom of the staircase and noticed Alfred was back at his customary post.

Reaching behind himself, the footman produced an umbrella. “In case the mist turns to drizzle or rain, miss.” He then opened the door, stepped out, and unfolded the oiled and waxed green silk canopy for her. There even was an acorn attached to its handle to protect her from lightning.

Elizabeth smiled and thanked him. He and his brother are exceedingly helpful…and handsome, which one’s footmen ought to be, if they possibly can. If I am so fortunate as to win Oakwood Manor, I hope it comes complete with Alfred and Christopher.

With the brume gentle upon her face, she set off southwards and closed the umbrella, the better to admire the scenery. The surrounding countryside was laid out before her in every shade of green—verdant grasses in meadows and fields, lush foliage of trees and shrubs. The colours reminded her of Saturday past when Miss Kensett’s Pomona green gown and vivid emerald-coloured turban had harmonised with the variegated shrubbery. How she had frightened me! And what stories I shall enjoy sharing with Papa during our homeward journey!