“How close are you and Colonel Fitzwilliam?” she asked, glancing toward the colonel.
“Very,” Darcy replied without hesitation. He advanced his men. “We are like brothers, though we are cousins by blood. He has been my confidant since childhood.”
Elizabeth nodded approvingly. “That speaks well of you both. I notice that he has applied himself to distracting my youngest sisters so that you may speak with me in some semblance of privacy. Shall you return the favour when it is his time to court a young lady?”
Mr. Darcy’s brow furrowed before he said, wryly, “I am not certain I would be of much assistance. Charm has never been my particular talent.”
Elizabeth looked at him with shy amusement, her fingers lightly brushing one of the game pieces. “I think you are doing a fine job with me.”
His gaze flicked to hers, and if she was not mistaken, his breathing quickened before he schooled his features. “High praise, Miss Bennet.”
She felt her cheeks warming and lowered her eyes. Instead, her fingers deftly moved one of her men into a position that captured his. “I am pleased Papa suggested backgammon, for watching you attempt to regain control of the board has been quite entertaining.”
“Apparently, charm is not a particularly effective bulwark against defeat.” Mr. Darcy rolled the dice.
Elizabeth tilted her head to one side, feigning thoughtfulness. “Perhaps social adeptness is overrated in such matters. Strategy and intellect are far more reliable allies.”
Mr. Darcy’s lips twitched, though his focus remained on the board. She noticed that the dark circles beneath his eyes were much lighter than they had been. “Then I fear I am doubly outmatched.”
“I think you are trying to distract me with all this flattery,” she replied archly. “But it will not work.”
“Foiled again” was his dry reply.
“Only because you have underestimated me,” she teased, sliding another of her men into position and capturing another of his. “But do not despair, Mr. Darcy. You are learning.”
“Learning to lose gracefully, it seems,” he said, advancing one of his remaining men. “Though I confess, I would prefer to delay that lesson a little longer.”
Elizabeth chuckled, her fingers poised over the dice. “A noble effort, but I fear it may be in vain. Perhaps your Cambridge training was not as rigorous as you thought.”
He raised an eyebrow. “It was rigorous enough, I assure you, though some time past. Perhaps you are simply a superior opponent.”
She rolled the dice with an air of triumph. “A concession, Mr. Darcy? I shall forever treasure this moment.”
He merely shook his head at her, but Elizabeth fancied she saw a little smile flit briefly across his face.
The game continued, their conversation weaving through the steady clatter of dice and movement of pieces. Across the room, Colonel Fitzwilliam’s animated storytelling drew gasps from Lydia and Kitty, while they could hear, from down the hall, Mary’s hesitant attempts at the pianoforte being met with encouragement from Miss Darcy. Even Mamma’s voice could be heard calling for Mrs. Hill somewhere in another room, though it was not, thank goodness, a screech. But amidst all the noise and bustle of the house, Elizabeth became increasingly absorbed in this contest with him—not the game, but their conversation.
When Elizabeth finally placed her last piece and declared victory, she leaned back with a smile that was both sweet and undeniably smug. “And that, Mr. Darcy, is how one trounces an opponent.”
He surveyed the board with mock gravity. “I am undone, Miss Bennet.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” she replied breezily. “You strike me as remarkably resilient.”
His expression was contemplative. “Perhaps we should try another game. Chess, perhaps?”
Elizabeth rose, shaking her head with playful defiance. “Oh, no. I have no intention of leaving my field of victory. Why risk tarnishing my reputation?”
Mr. Darcy chuckled, rising as well. “A sound strategy, though I cannot promise I will not seek a rematch.”
“Rematches are for those who desire redemption,” she teased. “I am quite satisfied with the outcome as it stands.”
There was a glimmer of challenge in Mr. Darcy’s eyes. “And here I thought you enjoyed a challenge, Miss Bennet. Surely you would not deny me the opportunity to reclaim my honour?”
Elizabeth folded her arms, pretending to consider. “It does seem rather unsporting, does it not?”
He tilted his head slightly, his gaze steady. “It seems as though you are afraid to play me again for fear of losing this time. I thought you possessed of more courage.”
She smiled. Apparently, he knew the best way to convince her to do something was to challenge her, but she wished to tease him just a bit longer, for she never knew quite how he would respond. “I would call it calculated retreat.”
