He proved a competitive man, despite his determination to be agreeable, and was running his hands through his hair in frustration when she attained twenty points before he had scored half so many. He set aside his billiard cue and stepped toward her. “You have played before.”
She grinned brightly at him. “Every time I visit Sir Edward in London. He taught me years ago.”
He shook his head, looking very well pleased with her mischief despite the chagrin of his thorough defeat. “Why did you not tell me you are an experienced player?”
“For my own amusement, of course. I have not run mad or fainted for fear of murder, so I regret nothing.”
Mr. Darcy laughed at Elizabeth’s saucy banter and took another step closer to her. He reached up to brush away a stray wisp of her hair that had fallen out of place, and his fingertips moved slowly across her face, and then briefly stroked her lips before he withdrew. “I cannot regret…”
“Letting me win?”
“You jest with me, but I am sure I might have been more ferocious if I had known of your talent.”
“But you were made aware of my gifts fairly quickly,” she said with a saucy smile. “You might have exerted yourself at once, and stood some chance.”
His mouth fell open, but the corners of Mr. Darcy’s lips quirked upward. His eyes sparkled as he stared with wonder at her insolence. “I will not be defeated – best of three!”
He thrust her billiard cue at her with a vicious grin, and when she wrapped her hand around it, her fingers brushed his. “You are rather flustered, sir; have you your wits about you?”
He let out a throaty growl as he retrieved his own cue and began arranging the balls on the table. He pointed at her with flourish. “I will play first; it is your forfeit for such wicked taunting. Very unsportsmanlike, Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth threw back her head and laughed, then gestured for him to proceed. “Go on, then, sir – do your best! I can trounce you again, for I have nowhere else to be at present.” She winked at him, and swiftly fulfilled her threat.
In their second game, she was merciful enough to allow him to lose by a single point, and the prolonging of his heated endeavor to best her was excessively diverting. The man had never been more animated than in the throes of his imminent defeat.
After a perfectly reasonable amount of gloating on Elizabeth’s part, Mr. Darcy bowed to her with gracious exaggeration. “Well done, Miss Bennet, though I cannot imagine what has come over me. I play far oftener than I suppose you do.”
“And are you generally drinking brandy when you play? Aha! It is the same for my uncle. He says it helps him fromoverthinking, and affords him a degree of bravado that makes it all the more enjoyable. So you see, Mr. Darcy, now I am the one to haveyouall figured out.”
He pursed his lips with merry vexation, and his eyes darted to the decanters on the sideboard at the back of the room. He took a step toward her. She laughed and wagged a finger at him. “I think it is too late for that.”
He narrowed his eyes and grinned, taking another step toward her. “Next time we play, Miss Bennet, we shall have to even the odds in my favor.”
“Oh, really? And when….”
Her voice trailed off as the sound of music emanated from the next room; Emma was playing a jolly tune on the pianoforte. Mr. Darcy took Elizabeth’s hand and raised her arm upward in an arc, into which she instinctively gave a playful twirl.
“I am glad you have broken your habit of refusing me,” he said, moving into another figure of steps, and Elizabeth found herself begin to dance with him in earnest.
They carried on this way for several minutes, staring silently at one another as they danced. Elizabeth was utterly dumbfounded, and hardly in possession of herself as she managed the steps smoothly despite her inner distraction. She could not account for why Mr. Darcy was determined to behave so charmingly to her, after she had been utterly horrid to him about Mr. Wickham, and especially now that the secret of her origin was known.
But she was glad of it, and more than that, she was happy indeed at their strange interlude together. Since arriving at the castle, she had been vexed at every attention he paid her, and even when she began to take comfort in his kindness, she convinced herself that it was only because of their terriblecircumstances. But Elizabeth could not lie to herself as she moved in time to the distant music with Mr. Darcy. She liked his company very well indeed.
She tried to imagine them behaving like this together someplace other than Clwyd Castle. He was likely to visit Netherfield soon, and perhaps often. They might meet in London, with the Bingleys. They might meet, it seemed, as very warm friends, and she wondered if it would be easy and natural to make merry with him as it was now, when it was a balm to the murderous chaos around them. But when the notion crept into her mind that it may be something more, she tamped it down at once.
The song Emma played faded into a new one, and they changed their steps, growing lively together – rather indecorously so. Their movements were an unsynchronized and playful shambles, and as they moved together through steps of entirely different dances, Elizabeth reached out and thumped her hand on the wall. “Play faster!”
On the other side of the wall, Mr. Willoughby guffawed loudly as Emma obliged. They had begun a sort of elaborately embellished waltz, and Elizabeth let out a wild peal of laughter as Mr. Darcy spun her about once, twice, and a third time, his hand holding hers above her head. Dizzy after this, she took a careening step backward, but Mr. Darcy caught her with one arm about her waist.
Startled, Elizabeth braced her hands on his shoulders, and as she relaxed against him, her fingers curled around his lapels. It was the same coat he had loaned her last night, when he thought her shivering to be from cold and not from fear. She stared at the deep blue wool, unable to meet his eye after making such a spectacle of herself.
He tipped his face downward and drew in a deep breath. “My coat still smells like you,” he murmured.
She drew in a sharp breath. “What?”
Mr. Darcy gave a breathy laugh, and Elizabeth became peripherally aware that Emma’s music had resumed a more sedate pace. Elizabeth's heart was still beating wildly, and she finally braved a glance up at him, holding her body utterly still against him for fear any movement might cause him to withdraw.
“I… it has been pleasant to take leave of our senses for a while, has it not?”
