Page 25 of Mr. Darcy and the Mysterious "Miss B"
“I thought perhaps you might enjoy a game of pall mall. There is a court in the back that has been wretchedly ignored.”
“I love pall mall,” Georgiana exclaimed. “Do you play?”
Lydia shook her head. “Never, but I dare say I am eager to learn.”
Georgiana looked back at Darcy. “Let us play. Mrs Annesley is seeing to my trunks as it is. We could all play, the five of us.”
Bingley raised his hands. “I must remove myself from the equation. I would like to, but I promised Miss Bennet a bowl of fresh gooseberries if we found any while out, and we did. A stroke of luck to find them in early April, I am told.”
Darcy glanced at Elizabeth. “Found is perhaps generous. We searched for a half hour and road through rather a menacing field.”
Elizabeth chuckled. “Pray, what menacing fields are there in Hertfordshire?”
“Fields of flowers full of bees, naturally,” he replied with a smile.
“Ah, you found Mr Morris’ lavender field then,” Lydia said and nodded. “Papa always told me to avoid it if I did not want to look like one of Mama’s pincushions.” Her smile disappeared suddenly and the familiar darkness descended. Elizabeth took a step forward but before she could say anything, Georgiana had taken her hand.
“Well, we shall all be advised to avoid it. Now, shall we play?” she asked and pulled Lydia forward and seemingly away from the abyss into which she had been about to fall.
She and Darcy exchanged a look and the corner of his lips turned up. “Well, the young ladies have spoken. Shall we follow?”
He proffered his arm and she took it, grateful for Georgiana’s interference.
***
Twenty minutes later, they were arranged on Netherfield’s lawn with mallets in hand. Elizabeth and Lydia faced the Darcy siblings across the pall mall course.
“I should warn you,” Darcy said, selecting his mallet with care, “Georgiana learned to play at Pemberley. She is rather good.”
“I am not,” Georgiana protested. “I haven’t played in months.”
“She’s being modest,” Darcy informed them. “She once beat our groundskeeper, who takes pall mall very seriously indeed.”
Elizabeth studied the course. “Perhaps we should propose a wager.”
“What sort of wager?” Lydia asked with interest.
“Losers must perform a forfeit chosen by the winners,” Elizabeth suggested.
“Agreed,” Darcy said promptly.
The game began with Lydia taking the first shot, which went reasonably straight, though she had only ever observed, not played herself. Georgiana followed with precision that belied her modest protests. When Elizabeth’s turn came, she found Darcy standing nearby.
“Any advice?” she asked.
“Aim for where you want to end up, not just where you want to go.”
Elizabeth glanced at him. “Philosophy or strategy?”
“Both.”
She took her shot, which flew wide. “It seems I am better at giving advice than following it.”
“This time,” Darcy replied. “There will be other chances.”
As the game progressed, Elizabeth became increasingly aware of Darcy’s presence. Away from drawing rooms and formal dinners, he seemed different—more relaxed, quicker to smile. When he encouraged Georgiana or teased Lydia about her competitive spirit, Elizabeth caught glimpses of the man beneath the reserve.
“Your turn, Miss Elizabeth,” Georgiana called.
