Fitzwilliam Darcy
Netherfield, Hertfordshire
The next two days had been an exercise in dodging Caroline Bingley, something that Darcy was becoming very adept at doing. Fitzwilliam had been amused at the woman's dogged determination, "I swear, Darcy, she'd drag you to the altar if she thought she might get away with it", and Bingley himself had been somewhat embarrassed at her rather enthusiastic and forward nature. Bingley had even offered to talk to her, and make it clear that Darcy was to be left alone, but Darcy didn't want the woman to feel uncomfortable.
It wasn't her fault that he was already practically promised to one of four unknown women. Not, he admitted privately to himself, that he would have been interested in the possibility of having her for a wife if he was not already otherwise committed. Caroline Bingley was not for him, even if he had not been facing down the prospect of marrying imminently.
And so, it came to pass that he had escaped Netherfield for a morning ride and upon his return had just missed a calling neighbor.
"Kind man, that Mr. Bennet," Bingley remarked as Darcy entered the library, where Bingley and Fitzwilliam were locked, head-to-head, in what looked to be an intense game of chess.
"Mr. Bennet?" Darcy asked as he approached them. Fitzwilliam had been tugging at his cravat, for it was nearly undone around his neck, showing the nature of how Bingley's playing was vexing him.
"Yes, he came to call," Fitzwilliam said with a frown as he captured one pawn. It was a hollow victory, Darcy could see, as Bingley was beginning to take the lead. Bingley hopped one of his pieces and took Fitzwilliam's knight. "Dash it, Bingley," Fitzwilliam said, and then looked about to see if a lady was nearby.
"At ease, Sir," Darcy said, allowing himself a smile at his cousin's concern that the womenfolk would overhear his curse. Fitzwilliam glowered at him.
"If you are so calm, then you take the man on. Looks as if he hasn't a thought in the world between those two ears, but that thatch of ginger hair hides a wicked mind for strategy," Fitzwilliam said as he pushed back from the table. Bingley just grinned at them both and motioned towards Fitzwilliam's side.
"Sit, play me a set, and I'll tell you all about Mr. Bennet," Bingley encouraged. As Fitzwilliam got up with a mutter and walked to stir up the logs and encourage the fire, Darcy sat as ordered and reset the board.
"So tell me of this Mr. Bennet." He frowned down, playing the white pieces, he had first move. He selected a pawn and moved forward one square. He felt restless and as if he had no patience for game at that very moment. Bingley seemed to sense his weakness of spirit and gave Darcy a gimlet smile before moving forward one of his own pawns.
"Seems a jolly sort," Fitzwilliam commented with his usual cheerful tone. "Jolly and slightly inappropriate, but my kind of fellow."
"He has four daughters out," Bingley added as they traded moves back and forth, Darcy taking his time while Bingley's own decision making was rapid-fast.
"Aye, a lower gentleman's daughter won't sniff at a Colonel and turn her nose up, I don't think," Fitzwilliam said with feeling and Darcy shot a look at his cousin. He was of noble birth enough, although as a second son, perhaps there and been more than one lady who'd not looked twice at him. Was his cousin looking for a wife? He had not mentioned it. Darcy filed that thought away for considering later.
"As well they should not," Bingley said with indignation. "You are a fine fellow, of great character and family connections-"
"Ah, but not all tender ladies wish to look past the red coat," Fitzwilliam interrupted. Bingley scoffed,
"The more fool they are," he said, "you would make any woman a fine husband." He doffed an imaginary hat to Fitzwilliam, who smiled and bowed in return.
"Thank you, Sir, for your charitable assessment of me in the matter of what makes excellent husband material."
Darcy had to suppress the smile on his face at his friends' playful banter. They certainly were in high spirits, and it was doing his weary soul some good to be in their cheering company.
"I should say, as well, he mentioned an Assembly, and I told him we would attend," Bingley said after a particularly vicious move on the chessboard. Darcy scowled at his fallen pieces and then jerked his head up.
"Pardon? An Assembly and you gave note we would attend?"
"Yes," Bingley said, a wicked glint in his eye. The man may have been a cheerful, affable fellow, but he was also cunning in his own way. "Is there something the matter, Darcy?"
"I will not go," Darcy insisted. How could he attend such an Assembly, when one and all would press their daughters upon him, under the expectation that he might take interest in them?
"I think you will," Bingley shot back, "for it would be bad company to remain behind when all your fellows attend without you."
"Here's a thought," Fitzwilliam interrupted before Darcy could sputter out another word, "you win that there game, and we won't force you to attend with us. What do you say?"
Darcy looked at the board and growled.
"We must reset, to make the match fair," he said under his breath. Bingley gave a small noise that sounded like a snicker.
"As my friend requests," Bingley replied, and cleared the board, resetting it quickly with practiced hands. Darcy stared hard at his compatriot.
"Fine. If I should lose this round, then I will attend the Assembly. Where is it?"
"Meryton, close enough that we won't get out hats wet riding there in an open carriage. Prepare for your demise, dear Darce," Bingley said, looking entirely too confident for Mr. Darcy's nerves. He held his breath, and prayed as they began the match.
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