Mr. Bennet snuggled the precious, wiggling bundle of blankets and flying fists close to his chest. “Now, Master Bennet, your mama has left you to my care, and I shall not surrender you easily.” He dipped his finger into his glass of port which sat on the table next to his chair in Pemberley’s library and placed it near his grandson’s lips.
Instinctively, Bennet’s lips drew the finger in. His eyes grew round and his lips stopped suckling. As Mr. Bennet withdrew his finger, a tiny tongue flicked in and out as if searching for more of the interesting tasting liquid.
“Oh, no, young man. A taste is all you get. Now, might we continue our game? Shall I move the knight…or the rook?” He held up each piece as he said its name.
Matlock laughed. “Do you expect an answer?”
“No,” said Mr. Bennet. “But it will not hurt for him to hear the names and see the pieces. I started Lizzy this way, and as I recall, Gardiner said she knew enough by the time she was five to assist him in beating you.”
“Indeed. I was quite impressed by her intelligence that day. In fact, it was that chance meeting which led us to the little man you hold now.”
Mr. Bennet held each piece up one more time and said its name. A little fist flicked out at the knight as it was held in front of him. “Ah, wise choice. The very move that needs to be made.” Mr. Bennet replaced the pieces on the board in their original spots before making his move.
“You are not going to claim he actually knew which piece needed to be moved, are you?” Matlock asked in astonishment. “He has not seen the board. He knows naught of the rules, and you held that piece closer to him than the other. You swayed his opinion.”
“He has no opinion to sway. He is not old enough to have formed any,” retorted Mr. Bennet.
“So you are determined to help him form it,” said Matlock. “I should have known you would try such a thing.”
“Gentlemen,” said Elizabeth as she placed her hands over her son’s ears where he lay in his grandfather’s arms. “I will gladly allow you to expose my child to many pursuits, but arguing over trivial matters is not one of them. Now, if you wish to continue your game with Bennet in attendance, I suggest you cease your silly grumblings.”
She slowly removed her hands from the baby’s ears, and placing them on her hips, she gave her father a firm stare. “And no more port.”
“It was only a taste.” Her father said weakly.
She raised a brow in challenge.
“Very well, no more port.” A smile formed on his lips. “I will stick to brandy and wine.”
“And we shall not argue,” chimed in Matlock. “We shall only debate.”
Elizabeth shook her head and sighed. “You are incorrigible.” Bennet started to fuss and turn to find the source of his mother’s voice.
Elizabeth took him from her father and snuggled him close. She knew some in society would criticize her for being such a doting mama and not hiring a wet nurse, but these precious moments were so fleeting. He was growing so quickly.
“I shall have you know that if anyone is going to help my son form his opinions, it will be his mother. He shall know how to deal with the likes of you.” She laughed as the two gentlemen groaned. “Have you considered that he is a Bennet and a Darcy and, therefore, a Fitzwilliam? With such a lineage and such caring relatives, he shall have no option but to be a success.”
“True, true,” said Matlock as he placed his fingers on a piece to be moved.
Elizabeth cleared her throat and shook her head. He moved his hand to a different piece, and she smiled.
“Such treachery. Given to my enemy at the hand of my own daughter,” exclaimed her father.
Elizabeth laughed. “Have I given you to your enemy or have I given your enemy to you? Look carefully, gentlemen, the match could go either way. I shall return to see who is standing after this young man is safely out of hearing range when the oaths begin to flow.”
She kissed her son’s head. “Time for a rest young man. We shall leave the foolish old men to argue in peace. When you are older, I will teach you how to win every match in which you engage should you so wish, whether your opponent is your grandfather, your great uncle, or even your father. However, there are times when losing is more advantageous.”
Mr. Bennet and Matlock erupted into peals of laughter.
“Do you suppose he even realizes she allows him to win?” asked Matlock.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Darcy, who had been standing just outside the garden door listening for some minutes, smiled to himself. After he had heard the story of Matlock’s first meeting with Elizabeth, he had, on a number of occasions, tried unsuccessfully to lose. It had become obvious to him as the games became more of a giving away rather than a keeping of pieces that she was indeed allowing him to win, and from the look she had just directed toward him through the open garden door as she spoke, she knew he was not unaware of her scheming.
He snipped one last flower to place in the basket he carried. His gardener stood a ways off watching warily. Darcy chuckled to himself. At least, Foster no longer stood at his shoulder as he cut flowers for his wife.
“Why do you not allow me to do that for you, sir?” he would often ask.
“I am capable of gathering flowers, Foster,” he would reply. “I promise to do so with care. No ill shall befall your garden.”
Eventually, Foster had decided his master did indeed know what he was about and left him to gather almost on his own. Still, he would busy himself with work nearby, always vigilant should his assistance be needed or wanted.
Today, Darcy decided the gardener’s help might indeed be warranted. “Foster,” he called. “Do you have a container, perhaps a small watering can I might use to hold these flowers?”
The grey-haired gardener considered his master for a moment. There had been many strange requests in the last year, but this was new. “Are you sure you wish an old can, sir?”
“Indeed, I do, but a smallish one. Of course, if you prefer, I can gather a larger number and use a larger can.” Darcy smiled at the man whose eyes grew round with unease.
“I only wished to clarify your need, sir. I have just the thing. Do you wish me to place the flowers in it for you?”
“No, I shall follow you and arrange them myself.”
Foster only bowed and led the way.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Darcy carried the flower-filled watering can to his bed chamber. He planned to place it on the table near the window where his wife loved to sit and write in their family journal. He expected, after the conversation he had overheard in the library, she might return there to record Bennet’s first chess lesson while their son slept.
Darcy had thought his world was complete, and he could know no greater joy when he had married Elizabeth. But, he had been proven wrong first when, just weeks after their wedding, she had informed him that she suspected her illness was due to the fact that he was to be a father, and again when in early May, Bennet had made his way into the world.
Darcy sat near the fireplace and flipped through the journal as he waited for his wife. He read a few lines of her account of this very day one year ago. The door opened, and he closed the book so he could watch his wife discover his gift.
“No card,” she said. “It seems I have a secret admirer, dear husband.” She bent and smelled the flowers, closing her eyes and smiling with pleasure as she did.
“You do have an admirer, but not so secret, my love.”
“If this admirer is not so secretive, why, pray tell, did he not leave a note?” Her eyes were sparkling with amusement.
Darcy stood and walked to where his wife stood. He reached around her and placed the journal on the table opening it to where his finger held the page while leaning close to her ear. “He wished to give you his message in person.”
She wound her arms around his neck. “And what is this message which my admirer wishes to deliver?”
“It is a message that is both terribly short and inconceivably long.” He clasped his hands behind her back. “Can you guess it?”
“Ah, I think I can. Does he love me?”
“For now and always.”
“How very fortunate since I shall love him for all time.” She smiled up at him.
“Do you like them?”
“The flowers?” She glanced at the bouquet.
He nodded. “Much to Foster’s chagrin, I gathered them myself. They are not exactly like the flowers we tended on this day last year, but they are similar, and I had Foster dig out an old watering can to use as the vase. Is it not very much like the one you used to water your flowers ─ the ones you had just finished planting on the day I met you?”
Elizabeth turned in his arms so that she could see the flowers. “You thought of all that while you picked these?”
“I began by thinking of this.” He pointed to the open journal page. “The day when you agreed to make me the happiest of men.”
“I had not expected to celebrate this day,” she said softly. “If I had, I would have found a gift for you. One which spoke my love as well as these flowers speak of yours.”
“Ah, but I have arranged for that as well.” He released her and walked back to his chair near the fireplace though he did not sit.
“You have?”
“I have.” He motioned to a chess board that lay on the small round table which stood to the left of his chair and the right of hers. “I told you on that day I had found no disguise in you. You teased, or so I thought, that you allowed me to win at chess. I no longer think you said such a statement in jest.”
He put up his hand to forestall her protest. “It is true. I have seen you cleverly avoid winning and have noted the degrees with which you protest. I can tell when I have been given a victory. Do you wish to explain?” He tipped his head to one side and quirked an eyebrow as he gave her a teasing smile.
Elizabeth’s cheeks grew rosy, and she looked steadfastly at the chess pieces on the board. “At first, I did not want to discourage you from playing against me for I enjoyed the time we spent together. Then, I came to adore the satisfied look in your eyes and the dimple that showed on your face when you were victorious. And, then, oh, I do not know if I can bear to tell you what I thought then.”
He pulled her hands away from her face. “And then, you could not bear to tell me you had allowed me several victories?” He paused. “But I discovered it, and you knew I had discovered it.”
“But that did not hold the same mortification as admitting my deceit would have. If I had said I had allowed you to win, I would have sounded boastful. I did not wish for you to think me proud.”
“I suppose you allowed me to discover your scheming?”
“No! You were too clever for me to hide it for long.” She bit her lip and looked at the floor. She had not once looked up and seen his smile. “Are you very disappointed in me?”
He wrapped his arms about her. “Not in the least. I am pleased to know you desired my presence and my pleasure enough to lose. I would venture a guess that I am one of only a few people to whom you have ever willingly and graciously lost.”
Elizabeth laughed. “You are very wise, Fitzwilliam.”
“Yes, wise enough to arrange for my own gift, if you will remember why we started this discussion.” He kissed the top of her head as it lay against his chest. “Today, you will allow me the privilege of witnessing the keen mind that led my uncle to insist on our meeting. For without his intervention, we may never have met, and though my life might have been tolerably contented, it would have never been as completely, unabashedly, irrepressibly happy as it is with you. Will you do this for me, Elizabeth?”
“You are so happy?” She loved to hear him speak of his joy in their marriage for it echoed her own.
“I am.”
“And you shall remain happy even if I am victorious? Your pride will not be injured?”
Darcy shook his head. “No, for I do not plan to lose.” He motioned for her to take her seat, a decidedly mischievous, almost wicked, grin graced his face. “There is an additional rule.”
She looked at him suspiciously. “And what exactly is this rule? I should know all the particulars before I agree to play.”
“With the capture of a pawn goes the forfeit of a kiss to the captor. With the capture of any higher ranking piece shall go a forfeit of the captor’s choosing. So you see, my lovely wife, even in losing, I win.”
Elizabeth laughed and choosing the fifth pawn from the right, moved it forward two squares. “So we shall be battling to see who chooses the forfeit?” She watched him move his black pawn to stand in front of the one she had moved. Then, placing a finger lightly on the nearest knight, she said before moving it, “Are you truly prepared to lose so much to me? For I should very much like to be the chooser of the forfeits.”
“As I had hoped. I thought it sufficient incentive to assure a fervent match.” He settled back into his chair.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Lord Matlock arranged the chess pieces on the board for a third game while Mr. Bennet refilled their glasses.
“I should have expected Lizzy to have rejoined us by now,” said Mr. Bennet. “I do not remember it taking this long for Fanny to settle our girls in for a nap.”
“Did you not see Darcy gathering flowers in the garden earlier? He hurried away with his gardener and a basket of flowers just shortly after Elizabeth left the library with Bennet.”
Mr. Bennet chuckled. “So that is how it is, is it?”
“I believe it is,” said Matlock with a smile. “Now, can I possibly entice you to allow me at least one victory this afternoon?”
“If the incentive is sufficient.”
“Is not my continued friendship sufficient?”
“We shall remain friends whether you win or lose, Matlock. Try again.”
“I should think that one victory — not too easily given–is not too much to ask for the service I have rendered in ensuring the happy match of your daughter and my nephew.”
Mr. Bennet groaned. “If I allow you the win in this game, will you promise to stop holding that above me?”
Matlock chuckled. “I am not altogether certain I will be able to refrain from a few mentions of it in the future — for I am quite pleased with the result of our scheming — but I shall not mention it again this visit unless severely provoked.”
“Since that is truly as much as I know I can reasonably hope for, I shall give you ample opportunity to rise victorious from this battle, but I cannot guarantee you will be aware of your chances. I know how easily your eye is turned from the task at hand.” Mr. Bennet feigned a challenging look.
“So that is how you see me? As a man easily led astray? Pushed and pulled about by the whims of others?” Matlock laughed. “I see how it shall be. I shall not be easily diverted from my goal.”
“Exactly as I left them. Arguing about nonsense, drinking far too much port and pushing chess pieces around a board in some vain attempt to claim superiority.” Elizabeth removed her hand from Darcy’s arm and kissed her father on the cheek.
“Ah,” said her father in a teasing tone. “But it was the absence of your calming presence which led us to argue and drink.”
“My calming presence? Indeed. You were arguing and drinking before I left the room.” Elizabeth laughed. “I will grant you I would have replaced your port with tea at least two glasses ago.”
“Then, it is best you stayed away for as long as you did,” said Matlock. “And Darcy, what have you been about this fine afternoon?”
Darcy settled onto a settee and drew his wife down next to him but allowing her to sit further away from him than he wished for propriety sake. “I spent some time in the garden annoying Foster before challenging my wife to a game of chess.”
Matlock gave Mr. Bennet a knowing look. “And were you once again victorious, nephew?”
“I am happy to say I was not,” said Darcy as he tried to suppress a grin.
“You were not?” Matlock and Mr. Bennet looked at each other in confusion.
“I chose not to allow him to win,” Elizabeth admitted softly, her cheeks growing rosy.
For a few moments, Mr. Bennet looked silently between his daughter’s blushing face and her husband’s pleased expression. “Ah, yes,” he said finally returning his attention to his game. “Much can be accomplished with proper strategy and the right incentive.”
“Indeed, it can,” said Darcy as he picked up his book. “Indeed, it can.”
~*~*~*~*~*~
This edition of Oxford Cottage contains two bonus short stories, which can be found after the acknowledgements on the next page.