Page 28 of Her Affections and Wishes

Elizabeth set down her glass with a clang and was about to rejoin about Julia’s single status and desperate need to make a match before her younger sisters came out, but exhaled instead. She was a kind person; Julia was not. Julia was as often offended as pleased, but her hatred was more vehement and lasting than her benevolence. She could not make an enemy of her.

She might not want to cross Julia or embarrass her hostess with a scene, but she did not want to spend an evening with them either. But if she claimed a headache and left, Julia would see it as a triumph. Both her and her mother would be glad for Julia to have time to flirt with Darcy, blind though they both were to his complete indifference.

Elizabeth had a charming day with Darcy, but her evening would pass slowly. She watched him across the dinner table when she was certain his gaze was elsewhere. She would miss him when the race meeting was over. Being with him was the best part of being at Woodcote. But what would happen at the end of the week? A wave of heat and a flutter of anticipation hit her whenever she talked with Darcy. What did they feel for one another a month after he proposed and was rejected?

She could no longer pretend what she felt for him now was anything other than love.

It was not a sudden gust of passion brought on by their proximity. There was a mutual confidence between them now that had grown into affection on her side. She knew Darcy’s value, and could say with all sincerity that he had inspired her heart with love. He had an unaffected goodness and a respectable character. He could laugh, and she felt a friendship for him along with a deepening desire.

But what could she infer from his insistence on only kissing her outside of a game’s forfeits? Not enough to satisfy her. She did not know how to bring on a renewal of his addresses, but her heart whispered he might still love her enough to marry her.

Chapter Six

There were about ten new faces in the drawing room, more men than women, of varying ages but all, apparently, “dear friends” of Mrs Tessier. She loudly introduced every person, vigorously shaking hands with her bejewelled fingers and telling each person how glad she was they were at Woodcote. Her good cheer infused the already spirited party. Elizabeth had hoped for a subdued evening with conversation or music so she could spend more time with Darcy, but it was apparent it was a rowdier group.

“Let us play Buffy Gruffy,” called one of the guests. Elizabeth was certain that wherever he had begun his evening, wine had been a significant part of it.

“We should have the interrogator use a more tactile method to determine their object rather than questioning,” suggested Sir John Whitney.

A delighted murmur went through the group.

“Go first, Sir John,” said another guest, and one of the ladies tied a neckerchief around Sir John’s eyes. Everyone changed places and he was spun in a circle.

In the typical game, one determined who they stumbled into by asking questions, and the found person would throw their voice to baffle them. This group had decided lap sitting and patting should replace the questions. It was not a strange adaptation, but she had no patience for such fun now. When she met Darcy’s eye across the circle, she wished everyone away so she could learn if his gaze meant what she hoped it did.

Did he want to kiss her as much as she wanted him to do it?

Sir John stumbled forward and staggered between where Elizabeth sat by another lady. His knees bumped their chairs, and whilst she hoped he would shift to the other lady, he moved to his right and stood before her. She contained a huff of displeasure.

“I seem to have found a lady,” he cried, feeling the skirt’s fabric through his knees. He blindly stretched out a hand above her head and then came down on it, knocking her hair comb into her skull.

“A young lady, I suspect. I feel no cap, so it is not Lady Metcalfe, Mrs Tessier, or Mrs Morrissey.” His arm went wide and his hand came down to pat her sleeve. “A small sleeve, not as puffed as I noticed on pretty Miss Morrissey or Lady Jerome.”

Sir John then made an open, grabbing gesture with his hands in front of him and said, “There is another way to decide who it is, if the lady would permit?”

“Sir John!” cried Darcy, standing instantly.

Many guests laughed, although there were just as many averted gazes and cries that he had gone too far. She knew very well what Sir John indicated. If knowing how he spent his afternoon and all the things he suggested to “Bennet” had not repulsed her, this surely would.

“What is the matter?” Sir John laughed at his own joke. “I could know in an instant if this was Miss Metcalfe.”

Elizabeth had no complaints about her figure, but Julia was a full-breasted woman. This was a bawdy group. Darcy looked positively livid, and she admired him all the more because she knew he would be as outraged on her behalf whether he loved her or not.

“I would not be insulted,” called Julia from the other side of the room, “so long as you got the answer right.”

“Well, I recognise your voice, Miss Metcalfe, so that leaves me to conclude this lady must be Miss Bennet.”

There was a smattering of applause, but not all found Sir John amusing. Darcy glared at him thunderously, but Elizabeth gave him a look to tell him to keep his patience, that there was no harm done. He slowly sat, keeping his eyes on her, and she wondered what he was thinking.

“Perhaps we should shift our method toward how the game is typically played?” asked Henry. He looked mortified, as did a few of the other guests, who seconded his suggestion.

Their next rounds were tamer. There was a mix of asking questions with some touching. It seemed those who had a prior acquaintance with the blindfolded interrogator were more inclined to allow those liberties. Those disinclined threw their voices high or low to hint their preference for a verbal interrogation rather than a physical one.

Some had their coats stroked, their sleeves ruffled, their laps sat upon, but nothing was offensive as Sir John had been. It was only a little flirtatious, a chance to have some light-hearted freedom, much like she had enjoyed today wearing breeches.

Darcy persevered amid the hilarity of having knees stroked and large people sitting across small ones, but he was seriously displeased with Sir John. She tried to give Darcy another private smile to say all was well since they were kept apart the entire game. Their day together at Epsom was not enough to satisfy her when Julia hung over him. She sat by him every time they exchanged their seats, and he struggled to keep his forbearance with her flirtations.

Elizabeth felt the same impatience with the evening as Darcy. Why would she want to spend an evening with games amongst strangers when she could instead sit by Darcy’s side, talk with him, and enjoy being with him? Try to convince him that he wanted to ask her again to marry him?