Page 72 of Companions of Their Youth
That settled it. With a simper and a self-satisfied glance at Darcy, Miss Bingley swept toward the music room, calling over her shoulder that Louisa must accompany her. Mrs. Hurst, sighing, followed without argument. Mr. Hurst sprawled on a sofa and was snoring softly within minutes.
Darcy and Mr. Bennet sat across from one another as a footman brought the chessboard and set it carefully between them.
Mr. Bennet’s first move was swift and confident. “Let us see if your skill matches your reputation, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy responded in kind, and they began.
“Ah,” Mr. Bennet said, eyes gleaming, “the Sicilian Defense. Aggressive. I like it.” He countered with a move of his own. “I shall meet you with the Smith-Morra Gambit.”
Darcy said nothing, but allowed himself the faintest smile. As they played, Mr. Bennet continued to narrate the game aloud with wry commentary. At first, his movements were brisk, easy, his tone light. But as Darcy deviated from expected lines ofplay—sliding his bishop into an unorthodox position, sacrificing a pawn to draw out Mr. Bennet’s knight—the older man grew quiet. His brow furrowed. His fingers hesitated before moving a piece.
As he watched Elizabeth’s father, Darcy felt a slow satisfaction settle over him. He had not had a worthy opponent in years—not since Cambridge. Mr. Bennet, for all his jesting, was formidable. The pieces clicked and scraped across the board in mounting silence.
Mr. Bennet’s expression shifted, amused eyebrows lowering in consideration. “Hmm. I was not expecting that. Very sly. You do not play like a gentleman of leisure.”
“I learned from my father’s steward,” Darcy said quietly, “who took delight in humbling me.”
Mr. Bennet hummed and studied the board more intently. The tempo slowed.
Ten minutes passed in silence before Mr. Bennet leaned back and said with reluctant satisfaction, “Checkmate.”
Darcy stared. He had not lost a match in years—certainly not since university—and the reality struck with strange disorientation. But Mr. Bennet was grinning.
“Excellent game,” he said. “You nearly had me at move twenty. I began to regret my overconfidence.”
“You play remarkably well,” Darcy said sincerely.
“And you nearly unseated me. Let us play again—though this time I shall not pretend it will be easy.”
Darcy nodded, and they reset the board. The second game proceeded at a more leisurely pace, each of them pausing to converse between moves.
“Tell me about your family, Mr. Darcy. Any siblings?”
“My sister, Georgiana. She is with her companion in London.”
“Not with your parents?”
“No,” Darcy replied slowly. “They have both passed.”
“Ah, I see. I am very sorry.”
Darcy shrugged, even as his heart twinged. There were a few moments of silence, then Mr. Bennet asked, “How old is your sister? Older or younger than you?”
“She is nearly sixteen.”
Mr. Bennet chuckled. “Ah. An age I do not envy you. For a girl, especially. Sudden moods, tears, declarations of hatred over cold toast. Thank heavens I am nearly out of it with my youngest.”
Darcy hesitated. “I often feel I have no notion what I am doing.”
“Of course you do not,” Mr. Bennet said cheerfully. “I would be far more worried if you believed youdid. My wife saves me daily. I am merely the stern voice and the occasional bank draft.”
Darcy protested, and Mr. Bennet merely laughed. “I love my girls, but the years between twelve and sixteen are certainly trying. Lizzy was all fire and storms at fifteen. And Lydia—Lord preserve us, she is a daily trial. I would be lost without my wife. She understands the girls’ tempers in a way I never could.”
He paused, then gave Darcy a look that was unexpectedly kind. “It must be particularly challenging for you. You are brother and guardian both. And without your parents…I can only imagine”
Darcy’s throat tightened. He stared at the board to compose himself. “It is… difficult.”
Mr. Bennet nodded slowly. “And noble, in its way.”
