“Miss Bennet,” Darcy called, “it is your turn to bowl.” He gave her a tight smile and Elizabeth could not make out if he disliked her playing or her treatment. As it was, he had saved her for next to last. She walked to the beginning of the approach.
“You may come forward,” the Duke called from where the opposing team gathered.
Elizabeth gave him a false smile and complied. When she had last played she did not need the modification, but she would not allow her pride to get the best of her. She took a few paces forward.
“And you may bowl underhand,” Liverpool added.
Elizabeth took a deep breath but before she could begin her run-up, Darcy made a motion, and the umpire called a break. Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at yet another modification due to her sex. Her would-be champion approached.
“Never mind them,” Darcy said. “Are you certain you wish to bowl? Dorset sounds like he would make allowances for you, but do not be fooled. He might just as soon hit directly at you. You can claim you are fatigued by the sun.” Darcy looked in the direction of the trees providing shade for the other guests. Charlotte talked with a very pregnant Mrs. Julia Jenkinson.
“I will not perish from one game of Cricket, sir.” Elizabeth glanced backwards. “However, my cousin seems quite weary so let us talk no more. The sooner I do my part, you may do yours, and then we might stand under the shade.”
“If you are certain,” Darcy scrutinised her resolve.
“I am,” Elizabeth said with an annoyed edge to her voice.
Darcy merely nodded and returned to his position as wicket-keeper. Elizabeth took a deep breath then ran a few paces past the crease and threw underhand. The striking batsman was evidently surprised for he missed his chance to strike the ball and instead resorted to protecting the wicket with his arm. Declared out leg before wicket by the umpire, the batsman left the field. The Dance brothers cheered Elizabeth, while Dorset and Liverpool consulted one another.
“On second thought, Miss Bennet is welcome to bowl as the others,” the Duke’s younger uncle, Mr. Jenkinson, said while laughing.
Elizabeth smiled, as well, and complied. Remaining behind the crease line and throwing overhand certainly was more difficult, but achievable. Again, the batsman was surprised. His delay caused him to edge the ball and be caught out by a fielder. Having learned to not underestimate her, Elizabeth’s next three balls resulted in several runs. By her last ball, her shoulder did ache from the unusual movements. Unfortunately for Elizabeth, one batsman had reached his century and retired after his one-hundredth run. The Duke of Dorset became the striking batsman and Darcy’s words resonated in her ears. However, she had thought the Duke had been quite good-natured. And while she disliked being coddled, she knew he acted with honour. He would never aim directly at her.
Elizabeth ran toward the crease line and let the ball fly from her right hand, rejoicing when she saw it line up well with the wickets. The world seemed to slow, however, when she heard a loud cracking sound and saw the ball hurtling directly for her. She heard the gasps from the crowd and out of the corner of her eye saw the silly point and the short leg race from their positions near Dorset to her. Despite hearing the pounding of feet from the slips behind her, she had no choice. She would not duck or jump out of the way. Taking a step backwards, so the ball did not strike her face, she caught the hard sphere in her hands at chest height. It punched into her with such force that she fell and knocked her head.
“Miss Bennet!” her teammates called to her. She attempted to sit up and soon regretted it.
“Rest a moment,” Tom Dance insisted. “I believe you hit your head when you fell.”
Elizabeth peered beyond him, first to the ladies rushing to her side, and then to where she heard angry words being yelled from the receiving wicket. Darcy looked ready to resort to fisticuffs with the Duke.
“That was in poor spirit of the game!” Darcy yelled, and many others seemed in agreement.
The umpire shook his head. “The Duke is caught and bowled. If Miss Bennet is not injured, we must resume the game.” The assembled crowd returned to their posts under the trees or to their position on the field.
“Can you stand?” Tom asked her.
“Of course. I am quite well,” Elizabeth insisted and took his hand when offered. Her head ached, but it would not stop her from playing.
Darcy approached. “Miss Bennet,” he said frowning. “I wish you would rest and allow someone else to take your place.”
“There is no one else,” she said and lifted her chin. “I wish to stay.”
“Surely—”
“Let her be, Darcy,” Tom said. “Take it out on Dorset when it is your turn to bat.”
Darcy glared at the Duke but seemed to accept the other man’s suggestion. He ordered Elizabeth to the farthest fielding position and therefore least likely to be needed. Although Elizabeth was some distance from him, she could see he bowled well. His over was completed quickly with the Duke’s team gaining only two runs. While the teams exchanged positions on the field, Darcy took Elizabeth by the elbow and led her to Charlotte and Mrs. Jenkinson.
“If you ladies cannot talk sense into Miss Bennet to quit the game, perhaps you may insist she rest,” he said gruffly as though she had done something wrong.
He stalked off, and Elizabeth stared daggers at the back of his head. He had returned to his high and mighty Hertfordshire ways, and she despised it.
“Here is some lemonade,” Charlotte said and offered her fan. Elizabeth took both, but only to appear agreeable.
Mrs. Jenkinson shook her head. “I am surprised at Dorset. He never did such a thing to me.”
“Do you play?” Elizabeth asked. She was surprised the sister-in-law to an earl and aunt to a duke would participate in the sport.
“I think it might have been what Charles first noticed about me,” she laughed. “My father had been invited for some reason I can no longer remember and at fifteen, I was headstrong enough to volunteer for the task of completing a team, not realising how seriously the Liverpool men take the game.”
Elizabeth chuckled. “I admit I would not have expected such renowned men to play so passionately.”
“Indeed!” the lady agreed. “I was too young to court then, and Charles had just returned from Austria, but our families remained on good terms. We were always invited to the Easter gathering. I was around your age when Charles finally seemed to notice me for anything beyond cricket.” Her eyes took on a soft quality. “I sprained my wrist batting, and he was so tender. Oh, forgive me. I get so weepy when I am with child!” She pulled a handkerchief out from her reticule.
“You obviously love him very much,” Elizabeth said smilingly.
“Yes. His mother was not pleased when he wished to marry a penniless daughter of an Irish astronomer. I have undoubtedly polluted the family blood line.”
By the turn of her lips, Elizabeth could tell the lady found it more ridiculous than offensive. Inwardly, she smiled as well. Hearing that the Dowager Countess was related to Lady Catherine seemed fitting. It was exactly how she imagined her ladyship would react to Elizabeth marrying Darcy. Marrying Darcy! Where had such a thought come from?
“I think mothers often just wish for their children to do well. I do not know that my own ever went to sleep at night not worried about my future until I wed,” Charlotte said.
Elizabeth glanced at her in surprise and saw her friend’s eyes glittering.
“Surely the love between a mother and child is more than most will ever have.”
“Oh, now I have you crying too!” Mrs. Jenkinson pulled another handkerchief out and handed it to Charlotte. “Calm yourself, it is not good in your condition. You are entirely correct; happiness in marriage does not always follow a love match. There are many things love cannot change. If Charles had nothing and we married, I do not think we could have ever felt content.”
Elizabeth did not entirely agree, but was saved the trouble of having to reply by being c
alled for her turn. As she left, Charlotte daintily wiped at her eyes and Elizabeth belatedly put the lady’s words together. Was Charlotte with child? Was that the source of her odd moods? Mrs. Jenkinson seemed to imply as much, and Elizabeth recalled that when her aunt had been expecting she also had emotional outbursts.
Shaking her head to clear the family concerns of others, she focused on her position. With any luck, she would be caught out and not expected to stay on the pitch as a non-striking batsman. Her head did ache, but she also had little enthusiasm for the game. She much preferred to stroll the grounds.
When she was receiving, she was a victim of discrimination again; the bowler bowled the ball far too easily. She hit the ball and managed two runs, but the former non-striking batsman retired. Finally, it was Darcy’s turn, and soon the infernal game would be over. It was now the Duke’s turn to bowl, and Darcy eyed him with steely determination. After two balls that were wide, Darcy seemed more infuriated. Elizabeth recalled him claiming great skill with the bat, and if the Duke would not bowl correctly, then it would prevent Darcy from hitting over the boundary and scoring six runs. Looking over her shoulder, Elizabeth saw that the fielders had backed up closer to the boundary.
Elizabeth watched as Dorset bowled again. From her position, it looked as though the ball would hit Darcy in the shoulder. At the last possible moment, it veered to her left. Darcy swung hard, his form worthy of being sculpted by the great artists. The ball sailed through the air past the boundary. She could not help cheering with her teammates, although she was entirely unsure what the score was. The teams gathered around their captains and waited for the umpires to call the game.
“Team Darcy wins! One hundred twenty-two runs to the Duke’s one hundred twenty. Darcy’s team wins by two!”
The cry from her teammates filled Elizabeth with pride. She cared nothing for the game. It had been a pleasant enough past-time from her youth, but she enjoyed more their pride and teamwork as they beat their hosts, something Elizabeth thought seldom occurred, and not merely out of deference. To her surprise, she was specially thanked and praised.
“It was your two runs, Miss Bennet!” One of the younger Dance brothers proclaimed.
“Aye, it was!” Tom agreed.
“Three cheers for Miss Bennet!” more called out.
Elizabeth laughed at the gaiety and absurdity. She could only think they gave her such credit because it would wound the pride of the Dorset clan more to have been beaten by a woman. “And what of our captain? He scored the final runs!”
Darcy flushed with her praise and the resulting cheers but as his eyes met hers he gave her a genuine smile, which she returned. Whatever his foul mood was from earlier, she was pleased to see him return to informality and friendship.
The remainder of the day was spent eating a casual luncheon, polite conversation with the ladies including Miss de Bourgh, and a tour of the grounds and the house. Despite Elizabeth enjoying the Tudor arches, Knole’s brown gallery, a collection of Raphael cartoons, and many paintings by Joshua Reynolds, including Wang-y-tong the Sackville Chinese page boy, the height of her enjoyment was the original medieval walled garden inside a larger walled garden. The additional highlight of a group drawing lesson from George Dance was only eclipsed by then speaking with him about the need for more neo-Medieval architecture. His agreeing that Elizabeth had many knowledgeable points nearly outshone the bizarre jealousy she felt when she observed Darcy talking for an extended period with Julia Jenkinson.
Overall, Elizabeth was excessively pleased with her visit to Knole. Mr. Collins did not let her forget how much she owed Lady Catherine and, although she rather thought it was all due to another, she profusely thanked the lady before leaving. Fortunately for Elizabeth’s still slightly throbbing head, the distance to Hunsford was easy, and soon she was away from her cousin’s commands of gratitude and unheard compliments to his patroness.
Chapter Eighteen
Dear C —
I have had the pleasure of seeing Angelika ’ s portrait of the Earl of Spencer ’ s children. The eldest daughter is soon to marry her young Duke. I confess, I worry for Lady Georgiana. At not yet seventeen, she is still a child and I fear the Duke was not raised as I would have hoped a grandson of Lady Burlington would have been raised. Dearest, when you wed find something between an impoverished gentleman and a Duke, if you please. On a more pleasant subject, I have never enjoyed a piece of poetry so much as I loved Miss Scott ’ s Female Advocate.
Yours,
A.F.
The following morning, Elizabeth slept later than usual. Mr. Collins was already in the garden while Charlotte and Maria were in the sitting room, having finished breakfast. Before entering, she heard some of their conversation.
“Like this?” Maria asked.
Elizabeth presumed the young girl was being shown an embroidery stitch.
“Yes, that is excellent!” Charlotte praised her younger sister.
A sad smile came to Elizabeth’s lips. She recalled sitting with Jane in such a way. Her elder sister had much more patience than their mother did. But who sat with the younger ones? Jane sometimes would try, but Elizabeth had cast off Lydia and Kitty as far too simple-minded for her. Their parents did little better. In the end, it was small wonder the girls had felt no one was worth listening to.
“Shall we not ask Lizzy to join us?” Maria asked.
“I think we had better let her rest. She must be overtired from her performance yesterday.”
“Performance? You mean Cricket?”
Charlotte sighed. “Maria, dear, you must see by now that Eliza is the type of woman who must always have as much attention as possible. It is not to be wondered at since you know her mother. She was not raised to be retiring or modest. I suppose Jane tries, but with such beauty, she will never be overlooked.”
Elizabeth covered her mouth lest an offended gasp alert them to her presence. Must she always be hearing ungenerous things about herself?
“Do not look at me so,” Charlotte scolded. “Eliza is my dearest friend, but our months of separation have allowed me to see our differences. I had thought age would demure her, but I am convinced it is not so. She will never change. Thank heavens she had the sense to know how ill-matched she would be with my dear Collins.”
“I had not thought of it that way,” Maria said.
“Be thankful you have an older sister, for I had to learn for myself and you see it took me twenty-seven years. Forget notions of love or romance. Men of sense desire wives who are calm and level-headed. They want women who will run their household well and be a credit to their names. Look for a gentleman who matches your desires in life. For example, I would not be pleased with a man who wished to live in London.”
“Surely love exists for some no matter how ill-matched they are?”
Elizabeth could hear the anxiety in Maria’s voice.
“Mr. Darcy seems to love Lizzy. They have little in common, but it would be—”
Unwilling to allow them to gossip about her, Elizabeth called out as though she were some distance away. “Charlotte?”
There was a slight pause. “We are in the drawing room.”
Rolling her eyes as she stamped her feet on the ground to pretend walking down the hall, she counted the minutes until she could leave. She intended to visit Miss de Bourgh this morning. Finally, she entered the chamber.
“Eliza, you look unwell.”
Genuine concern etched across Charlotte’s face, confusing Elizabeth. “A lingering headache. I think a walk will cure me.”
“But you have not eaten. Stay and take some tea, at least,” Charlotte insisted.
Feeling as though she could not avoid the invitation, Elizabeth complied. While they drank, the mail came. Elizabeth had a missive from Mary and Charlotte opened a letter with eagerness.
“Ladies, Mrs. Julia Jenkinson invites us to call on her in two days’ time for an informal tea at Knole House.”
“La! Will we see the Duchess
again?” Maria asked with her eyes rounding in mingled fear and excitement.
“I do not think we will. She would have much more important things to do than wait on us.”
As Charlotte said it, Elizabeth imagined the cogs in her head turning in thought. A friendship with Mrs. Jenkinson could very well lead to greater intimacy with the Duchess. The Sackvilles would have considerably more patronage in the church. Fortunately, Jane’s voice scolded her. Elizabeth needed to clear the air with her friend, but she should be careful to not presume her motives. Instead, Elizabeth expressed her happiness with the invitation. When their tea was finished, she excused herself to walk and read Mary’s letter.
Mary had little of interest to say. The militia would soon decamp to Brighton, giving Elizabeth ease for if they could not remove Wickham earlier then he would be leaving anyway. However, a few lines later, Mary reported Lydia’s growing intimacy with the Colonel of the Regiment’s wife and that she was frequently in the company of several of the officers, including Wickham.
If only she could leave Kent earlier! She needed to speak with her Uncle or Father. They must be made to understand the danger Wickham posed. Increasingly, Elizabeth wondered if she should reveal to Darcy all that Wickham had said. Weeks ago, it had seemed immaterial, but now with Darcy’s declarations and professions of admiration, it seemed possible that Wickham had considered Darcy might wish to marry her all along. How humbling to think that so many others were less astonished by Darcy’s interest than she was. Two things kept her from anxiety as she walked swiftly to Rosings. The first being that Darcy would be intelligent enough to think of some excuse for an earlier arrival in London, even if it meant she could not stay with the Gardiners. Secondly, that while Wickham may understand Darcy enough to see his attachment, he most assuredly did not know her. He had supposed she and Charlotte would concoct a plan to ensnare Darcy. In actuality, Charlotte did not approve of the match, and Elizabeth would rather live in disgrace the rest of her life than to bring a shred of it to the Darcy name.
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