Page 34 of Conundrums & Coincidences

POCKETS

Elizabeth walked about her bedchamber in agitation. What must he think of me?

Whatever Mr Darcy thought of her, for better or worse, was thanks to Charlotte Lucas. Her dear friend once had stated that being guarded would be disadvantageous to a woman and that in concealing one’s affection from the object of it, one risked losing the opportunity of fixing him.

Fixing him. La! I either have fixed him for good or sent him running for the hills.

Earlier, while the three of them had been leaving the gardens, Miss Rigby had enquired whether she had found that which she sought. Elizabeth had smiled sweetly at Mr Darcy and said yes, she believed she had.

Well, there is nothing to be done about it now, brazen girl.

That walk in the wet gardens, however, had removed the clouds from Elizabeth’s mind…though perhaps not the part of her mind that controlled her tongue. Nevertheless, she hoped she finally might have an answer to ‘Hearts shall weave’. She grabbed a shawl, rushed to the great hall, and approached the dais.

At the peep-hole, with the conversation she had overheard echoing in her mind, Elizabeth felt a draught, real or imagined. It was wrong to observe or listen to others furtively, but she had heard Miss Kensett and Mr Fordham’s conversation without their knowledge. The walls in this room have ears as well as eyes. ‘The walls have ears’. On her fingers she counted again the letters in that sentence. Sixteen. Perfect!

Wetting her lips with cautious hope, Elizabeth lifted a corner of the tapestry that disguised the peep-hole. Then she closed her eyes, unable to look without saying a prayer. “Please, please, please, let it be there.” Hopeful and fearful, she took a deep breath and held it. Slowly, she opened one eye, then the other.

There, pinned to the tapestry’s backing, was the hoped-for piece of foolscap. Finally, she exhaled, then covered her mouth with trembling fingers. Not only was Elizabeth close to tears, but she was also one step closer to winning Oakwood Manor.

While she unpinned, unfolded, and read the paper, her stomach fluttered. The page indicated the puzzle written on it was the ultimate conundrum. Heart rejoicing, she set off in search of Mr Monroe.

Leaving the great hall with spirits elated to rapture, Elizabeth startled when, across the way, the door to the games room creaked open just wide enough to accommodate Mr Hadley’s head. He looked left, then right, then began to close the door. At the last second, he spotted her and opened it fully.

“Ah! Miss Bennet, good day to you!”

Mr Darcy appeared behind him and asked her to join them. Elizabeth hesitated. “Who else is with you?”

“No one else.” Mr Hadley held an index finger against his lips and beckoned her inside.

Frowning, Elizabeth approached and shook her head. “I cannot risk either my reputation or disqualification from the tournament.”

“Of course,” said Mr Darcy. “But perhaps Miss Rigby could be convinced to sit with us. Shall I have her summoned?”

The folded paper in the concealed pocket of Elizabeth’s gown screamed at her to decline, but the gentleman’s eyes drew her in.

Upon receiving her reluctant consent, Mr Darcy passed a cue to Mr Hadley and swept past them both. A moment later, Elizabeth heard him, in the vestibule, speaking to Christopher. In a matter of minutes, Miss Rigby appeared, and the two ladies joined the two gentlemen in the games room.

“I shall just sit here at this card table with Miss Bennet,” said the chaperon. “Pay me no mind. I have my embroidery to occupy me.” She smiled when Mr Darcy pulled out a chair and held it for her as she sat. Then he did the same for Elizabeth.

“All I ask,” said Miss Rigby, “is that the three of you not enter into any sort of conversation about the tournament.”

While Mr Hadley talked and the others listened, the two gentlemen played billiards; but it seemed to Elizabeth that they did so more for appearances’ sake than any real attempt at skill or friendly rivalry.

“…and whenever I visited here, Mr Fordham spent most of his time skulking about the place. I wish I could recall something approaching charity or benevolence in him, but, sadly, I cannot. More than anything, he and his wife seemed to enjoy the pleasures to be had while living off Miss Armstrong’s generosity.”

As Mr Darcy leant over the billiards table, Elizabeth admired his tall, lean, athletic build. His muscles were not as obvious as a labourer’s, but they were well-defined and in proportion to the rest of his body. Nature has given him no inconsiderable share of beauty. He sank the red ball into a pocket and called out that he had scored three points for something called a hazard, but there was little enthusiasm in his voice.

“What was Mr Fordham’s bequest from Miss Armstrong?” asked Elizabeth. “I do not believe I ever heard it mentioned.”

“If you were to ask him, which I did,” said Mr Hadley, “Mr Fordham would say he received a ‘little bauble to present to his lovely wife’. Lovely, by the bye, is not a word I would use to describe her, but that is beside the point. I suspect the professed little bauble is a sixteenth-century Burmese ruby ring that was made much of by Mrs Fordham. It was too large for Miss Armstrong’s slim fingers, so she sometimes wore it round her neck on a gold chain. Personally, I thought the ring hideous.” He lined up a shot, and there was a double clack as his plain white ball, in succession, hit Mr Darcy’s then the red one. “My word! Did you see that? A cannon! I scored a cannon!”

“Well done.” Mr Darcy patted the younger man’s shoulder. “So, in your opinion, the Fordhams do not have any better principle to guide them than selfishness, is that correct?”

“They are regardless of everything but their own gratification,” grumbled Mr Hadley. Setting aside his mace, he pulled out a chair from one of the card tables and sat, knee bouncing. “What I am about to say is simply my own conjecture, but I fear the Fordhams imposed themselves on Miss Armstrong. They ingratiated themselves with an elderly lady and took advantage of her loneliness and infirmity. Eventually earning her trust and favour through flattery, Mr Fordham began taking her heirlooms to be valued. But I do not know that they ever found their way back to Oakwood Manor.”

The billiards game abandoned, Mr Hadley rose and placed the three balls back in the decorative box. “Mrs Fordham told me they wanted to please Miss Armstrong, improve her mood, and restore a sense of physical well-being during her infirmity. But I never witnessed either of them seeing to her comfort. What I did notice was that every time one of them admired a valuable article, it soon thereafter was bestowed upon them. They were bilking her, I fear. I think they stepped in only because they knew she had no children to whom to leave her legacy. The Fordhams hoped they would inherit everything.”

“I just remembered,” said Elizabeth, “that Miss Kensett said Mr Fordham thought of himself before anybody else and that he was intent on snatching—yes, snatching!—everything he possibly could.”