“I am pleased you enjoyed it.”
Elizabeth let out a breathy chuckle. “I would not have supposed you interested in planning such a thing as a treasure hunt.”
He raised an eyebrow, and he allowed a very slight smile to grace his face. “My father often used a treasure hunt to help me in my studies. The enticement of finding a treasure prompted me on more than one occasion to learn my lessons well. Truth be told, many of the clues we used today were ones that my father used.”
“I believe your father must have been very wise.” Elizabeth let out a genial laugh.
Darcy’s eyes met hers. “Yes, he was. I can only hope to be half as wise as he was.”
Emily suddenly appeared at the door. “Miss Bennet, may we go for a walk and take this book? I want to see if I can find some of these birds.”
Darcy raised an eyebrow at Elizabeth. “It sounds as if someone desires your presence.”
“Hmm, yes. Duty calls.” She turned to her charge. “Emily, that sounds like a splendid idea!”
They walked toward the door, Emily holding protectively on to the book, and Elizabeth hearing Darcy let out a sharp breath.
They returned to the house after spending a good hour out on the grounds discovering the names of several birds. Elizabeth told Emily she would keep the book in her room for safe keeping and to let her know when she wished to look through it.
They were met in the hall by one of the servants, who held a letter in his hand. “A letter was just delivered for you, Miss Bennet.”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth replied as she looked at the unfamiliar handwriting. She quickly tore it open, discovering it to be from her aunt’s friend, Mrs. Ketterling.
Her eyes skimmed the brief missive.
Elizabeth folded the letter. It appeared her plans for Sunday were settled.
There was just as much joyous reflection on the treasure hunt that night at dinner as there had been the eager expectation of it the previous night. Everyone laughed at their attempts to decipher the clues and how Mr. Goldsmith’s team, on more than one occasion, erred greatly in their conjectures and lost precious time making up for it.
Mr. Darcy received much praise for his excellent scheme, receiving it humbly. It appeared to Elizabeth, noticing his pinched brow and tightly pursed lips, that he felt awkward receiving such accolades. She brought her napkin up to her lips to cover an appreciative smile that appeared, realizing he was not a man who did things for the admiration of others, but because he wanted to do them.
The next morning, Elizabeth awoke with the sun already sending forth its dawning rays. She sat up in bed and stretched, surprised that she had slept in as late as she had. She stood up and went to the window. It was too late to set out for the ridge now. She wondered whether Mr. Darcy had been up there this morning, watching the sunrise.
Later, when she and Emily joined the others in the morning room for breakfast, she masked her disappointment when she learned that the men had already set out for a day of hunting. Rosalyn, however, gave Elizabeth a very pointed look of distress upon hearing the news.
Elizabeth was grateful that she had the excuse of needing time with Emily to go over her lessons, so she was not so much in Rosalyn’s company that day. With every word her friend uttered about Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth had to fight thoughts of corresponding denial—either of her own feelings toward him or of what Rosalyn was expecting of him. She was gradually being worn down by it.
Miss Darcy had given them permission to play the pianoforte in the music room, and Emily enjoyed the benefit of receiving lessons along with Gladys and Harriet. By the end of the day, Elizabeth believed they had accomplished much.
The men returned in late afternoon; Elizabeth heard their jovial boasting as they entered through the back courtyard. Their hunt must have been successful and enjoyable, judging by their thunderous banter.
Everyone heard about the men’s day during the evening meal. Mr. Hamilton claimed he had never shot so well, and Mr. Willstone was quite of the opinion that he had never seen so many birds. There was some teasing about missed shots, but they all seemed quite pleased with the day. Elizabeth readily noticed that same look of satisfaction and contentment in Mr. Darcy’s expression, similar to his portrait in the gallery.
That night, once Elizabeth and Miss Bartley had taken the girls to the nursery, it was apparent they all seemed a little more tired than usual. Perhaps the diligence of study proved more fatiguing than the rigorous activity the day before. Before long, Miss Bartley thought it would be wise to take her two wards upstairs and ready them for bed. Emily wished to remain up a little longer to complete a picture she had been drawing with crayons.
When she had finished the drawing and proudly shown it to Elizabeth, Elizabeth suggested they retire to their chambers. Emily protested only by asking to go in to her mother and father to show them her picture and say good night.
“They are with the adults, now, Emily. You know she will come up later.”
“But I know I shall be asleep by then. May I please?”
Elizabeth considered whether or not it would be appropriate, but since the two of them had been treated so kindly, she knew of no reason why they should not. They returned to the sitting room.
When Elizabeth and Emily stepped in, there was a game of whist in progress at one table, and Mr. Darcy and Mr. Hamilton were engaged in a game of chess at another. The Willstones were seated next to the Goldsmiths, and the two ladies were talking. Mrs. Willstone looked up when they walked in.
“Is anything amiss, Emily? Miss Bennet?” she asked.
“No,” Elizabeth replied. “Emily wished to come in and show you her drawing and say good night.”
Emily held out her drawing to her mother, and Elizabeth heard her name called out.
“Miss Bennet! Come hither!” It was Mr. Hamilton.
As Emily continued visiting with her parents, Elizabeth walked over to the table where the two men were engaged in a match. At first glance, her eyes took in the beauty of the chessboard. Rather than a simple painted piece of wood, the lighter squares appeared to be made of marble with mostly blue veins. The black squares appeared to be onyx. It glistened in the light of the candles. The pieces were carved in the same marble and onyx. It was a beautiful set.
She then studied the pieces on the board, taking a quick survey of the progress of the game. “May I ask who is winning?” she inquired.
“I am, of course,” boasted Mr. Hamilton. “I believe Darcy has lost his touch. I have won three matches to his one, and he usually bests me every game!”
Rosalyn came and stood next to Elizabeth, laughing. “Mr. Hamilton has complained these past two nights that he might as well be playing a novice and wishes for a more challenging opponent. Of course, I cannot oblige
