Page 53 of Mr. Darcy's Folly
Chapter Sixteen
Theunderlinedpassageshadserved their purpose well over the past week—each exchange deepening the game between them, building something clever and unspoken, a connection carefully stitched between pages and margins.
But now, Elizabeth wanted to play in earnest.
She had always relished a challenge. It was what drew her to wit and wordplay, to debates with her father, to teasing remarks that danced along the boundaries of propriety without ever quite transgressing them. She enjoyed testing the mettle of her conversation partners, pressing just enough to see whether they would press back.
Mr. Darcy, for all his reserve, had proven himself remarkably adept at doing just that.
Aunt Gardiner, sitting nearby with her embroidery, lowered her needle and peered over her spectacles with a knowing look.
“What is that look, Lizzy?”
Elizabeth, reclining against her pillows, feigned innocence. “What look, Aunt?”
“The one that always precedes trouble.”
Miss de Bourgh let out a quiet huff of amusement from her seat near the window, where she had been idly flipping through a book of poetry.
Jane, who had been writing a letter to their father, sighed but smiled. “Oh dear.”
Elizabeth grinned, tapping her fingers on the well-worn cover of the book on her lap. A slight twinge from her ribs made her wince, but she ignored it. The continued soreness after an entire week of rest was an irritation, but the confinement was far worse.
She glanced down atA Collection of Conundrums and Riddles, Old and New, which she and the other ladies had been using to quiz one another and pass the time. Charlotte had been to visit and had solved a few of them as well, but she had now returned home, and Miss de Bourgh had taken her place.
Alas, riddles for the sake of riddles were no longer enough.
Miss de Bourgh arched a brow. “You mean to send Darcy a conundrum?”
Elizabeth flipped the book open idly. “Precisely.”
Aunt Gardiner, ever practical, gave her a sharp look. “You are not going to underline an entire conundrum, Lizzy. Miss de Bourgh must have some of her books left unmarked.”
Elizabeth tapped her fingers thoughtfully against the cover. “Then I shall compose one, and Colonel Fitzwilliam might read it out.”
“No writing, Lizzy,” Aunt Gardiner reminded her, her voice fond but firm. “We are already ignoring too many rules of propriety as it is.”
Elizabeth sighed dramatically but could not entirely hide the twinkle in her eye.
Miss de Bourgh, who had been watching this exchange with quiet amusement, tilted her head like a curious bird. “Then how shall he receive it?”
Elizabeth sat up straighter, adjusting the blanket over her legs, eyes bright with inspiration. “I shall tell it to you, Aunt, or to Miss de Bourgh, who will tell it to the colonel, who will take it to Mr. Darcy.”
Miss de Bourgh shook her head slowly, her expression schooled into mock indifference. “I do not know why I allow myself to be drawn into these things,” she said as she stood, smoothing out her skirts. “But I cannot help but be entertained by the two of you.”
Jane pressed her lips together to contain a smile. “That makes two of us.”
Aunt Gardiner let out a long-suffering sigh. “Three.”
Elizabeth grinned, enjoying every moment of this conspiracy.
The house had settled into a comfortable sort of rhythm these past days. Though she had long since tired of being confined to her room, and though she still woke in the smallest hours of the morning, heart pounding from dreams she could not quite recall, the presence of her aunt, of Jane, and even Miss de Bourgh had kept her from dwelling overmuch on the darker parts of her mind.
And Mr. Darcy? She did not dwell on him, either. She only happened to think of him quite often, that was all. He was so willing to enter into her little games. He did not think them—or her—foolish. In fact, he possessed a playfulness she would never have expected last autumn, and it was a trait in him, along with his sense of humour, that she rather adored.
She laced her fingers together and spoke with deliberate clarity. “You must remember it carefully. The riddle is simple: ‘The beginning of eternity, the end of time and of space, the beginning of every end, and the end of every place.’”
Jane, who had been sipping her tea, suddenly set it down with a softclinkand tilted her head. “Oh! I think I know this one.”
