Page 50 of The Briar Bargain (The Rom Com Collection #3)

T he afternoon had surrendered to dusk with unseemly haste, though the clock had barely struck four.

Already the servants had lit the candles in the library, their flames dancing against the shelves, most of them empty, from floor to ceiling.

The fire in the grate had been built up, sending heat into even the furthest corners of the room.

Darcy had not stirred from the library after whist. Hurst and his wife had gone up to prepare for dinner, as had Miss Elizabeth. But he knew that Harrison would have him ready in less time than the ladies required, and he hoped that Bingley would seek him out before he went up himself.

The house felt peculiarly still, and he took a deep breath. After so much activity in the past week and a half, the silence was calming. It was not long before he heard a cheerful whistle that could belong to only one person in the house.

"Darcy!" Bingley called as he pushed open the door and looked about. "I hope I am not interrupting anything."

"Only my attempts to appreciate Cowper's observations on rural life," Darcy replied, closing the book with more relief than regret. "I find myself unequal to the task. "

"Excellent. Then you will not object to being thoroughly defeated at cards." Bingley brandished a well-worn deck with the air of a man presenting a prize. "I have it on excellent authority that you have been playing cards with Hurst and did not bother to summon me."

Darcy raised an eyebrow. "I believe you were otherwise engaged."

Bingley did not take the hint. "We have time before dressing for dinner. Let us play now."

Despite himself, Darcy felt his mouth quirk upward. "Very well. What manner of defeat did you have in mind for me?"

"Beggar My Neighbour," Bingley announced. "A game of pure chance, which gives me some hope of victory."

"Sound reasoning."

"I thought so." Bingley settled into the chair opposite and began shuffling the cards.

"Remind me of the rules?"

"The rules are delightfully simple, which recommends it further. We each receive half the deck, and we play our cards in turn without looking at them first. The object is to win all the cards, naturally."

Darcy accepted his portion of the deck and placed it face down before him. "And how does one accomplish this feat?"

"Patience and picture cards," Bingley replied. "When a picture card appears, the other fellow must pay a penalty. Four cards for an ace, three for a king, two for a queen, one for a jack. But here is the clever bit. If in paying that penalty another picture card is revealed, the debt reverses."

"I see. So the queen might rescue the unfortunate soul who faces a king."

"Precisely. Though she might just as easily doom him, depending on what follows." Bingley placed his first card. A seven. "Your turn."

Darcy flipped a card without ceremony. "Nine. "

"Three," Bingley countered, and they continued in this fashion for several minutes, the steady rhythm of cards meeting table providing a companionable backdrop to their conversation while Darcy waited for Bingley to tell him what had happened with his sister.

The game was, he reflected, remarkably soothing.

There was something to be said for a contest that required no great thought, no careful calculation of odds or reading of expressions.

One simply played what chance provided and accepted the consequences.

He preferred games of skill, but perhaps for this evening, Bingley had chosen well.

"Jack," Bingley announced with satisfaction. "One penalty card, if you please."

Darcy obliged, turning over the top card from his pile. "Queen."

"Blast." Bingley's face fell comically. "Two cards to you, then."

As Bingley counted out his penalty, he glanced up with an expression that suggested he was weighing his words. "I should mention that Miss Bennet has accepted my proposal."

Darcy paused in the act of gathering his winnings. "I was wondering whether you were ever going to inform me."

"Well, Louisa said you were aware, but I have told you now." Bingley's grin was unrepentant. "Once Miss Bennet accepted, I found myself rather focused on what comes next, preparing for tomorrow's interview with her father."

Darcy waited, as his own card, a ten, joined the growing pile.

"I should like you to stand up with me, provided her father gives his consent. I can think of no one else I would rather have beside me on such an occasion."

The request was not unexpected, yet it touched Darcy deeply. "It would be my honour. "

"Excellent. Though I warn you, the breakfast may involve dancing. Louisa has already begun making lists."

"I shall endeavour to prepare myself for the ordeal. Congratulations, Bingley." Darcy turned over the top card from his pile. "And queen."

"Blast again." Bingley's face fell comically.

As Bingley counted out his penalty, Darcy found himself comparing this moment to whist with Miss Elizabeth and the Hursts.

Bingley played with the same good-natured enthusiasm he brought to everything, but there was no hidden meaning in his choices, no sense that each card revealed something essential about the man who played it.

Hurst had not been playing seriously, of course.

He was only serious about cards when it included financial stakes.

But Darcy had learned a great deal about Miss Elizabeth.

She had been an excellent partner. She had not understood one of his moves—her brows had lifted in confusion as she looked at his card. But she had followed his lead, and he had exulted. Not because they had then won the trick, but because she trusted him.

There were no such revelations here. Fortunately, he did not need them with Bingley.

"You are wool-gathering." Bingley placed a four upon the growing pile. "I can tell because you have that expression you wear when you are thinking of something you would rather not be thinking of. Is it the dancing?"

Darcy was not displeased. He had been thinking of a certain young woman who might make a very fine dance partner. "I was merely noting the differences between this game and others I have played recently."

"Ah." Bingley's eyes gleamed with understanding. "Would this comparison involve a certain young lady who has a talent for making even the most mundane activities seem celebratory?"

Bingley was almost ebullient now. Darcy gave him a sharp look. "I am sure I do not know what you mean. "

"Of course not. King," Bingley added, laying down the card with a flourish. "Three cards to me."

Darcy began counting out his cards with more attention than the task required. The first was a six, the second a three, and the third, an ace.

"Four cards to me," he said with satisfaction.

"Good Lord," Bingley muttered, beginning to pay his debt. "I normally have better luck."

"You have secured your happiness. Perhaps you have used your luck up for the nonce."

They played on, the pile of discarded cards growing between them while the fire settled into a steady crackle.

Outside, the wind had picked up, rattling the windows and sending the flames in the grate dancing.

Inside, however, all was warmth and comfort, the sort of easy masculine companionship that required neither effort nor performance.

It was Bingley who broke the peaceful silence at last. "I spoke with Caroline, as you know."

Darcy placed the eight of clubs down and waited.

"About Miss Bennet," Bingley continued, his own card following. "About my intentions."

"Did she accept the news?"

Bingley's laugh held no humour. "She nearly fainted. No sense in allowing all that practice for the Viscountess of Alverstone's pugs to be wasted." He shook his head. "I believe she expected me to capitulate at once."

"And when you did not?"

"She unburdened herself." Bingley's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "She had much to say about Miss Bennet's family, her circumstances, her lack of connections. The usual litany of objections."

Darcy said nothing. Bingley had friends at nearly every level of society.

He was an amiable fellow and was often sought out.

But his sister's connections were fewer, lower, and meaner in character.

Miss Bingley needed her brother's good opinion if she wished to rise in society.

Attempting to berate him over his choice of wife was hardly conducive to her success in that arena.

His expression must have conveyed his thoughts, for Bingley waved his hand dismissively.

"I stopped her before she could work herself into full cry.

Told her plainly that I would marry Miss Bennet with or without her approval, that her behaviour during the Bennet ladies' stay had been impolite at best, and, as I did not believe she would improve, she would be on her way to Yorkshire as soon as our guests return home.

And that she would receive no further help from me. "

Darcy was impressed. "Good for you, Bingley. And how did she receive this news?"

"As you would expect. She argued. At length. Told me I was ruining her chances of making a good match, to which I replied that she had done that all on her own. And then . . ." Bingley hesitated, glancing up from his cards. "She brought up your name again."

Darcy's hand stilled on his pile of cards. "In what context?"

"She seemed to believe that you might intervene on her behalf. That once the Bennets returned to Longbourn, you would 'come to your senses,' I believe was the phrase. She said she needed to be here when that happened." Bingley placed an ace.

Darcy began paying the debt, his movements automatic while his mind worked through the situation.

As he had thought, Miss Bingley had expected him to continue to share her disdain for the Bennet family, to support her efforts to separate her brother from an unsuitable connection. "And what did you tell her?"