Darcy's Match

by Philippa J Rosen

  They left the field and returned to the pavilion. Again, tables were brought out and laden with refreshments for the spectators. Again, the teams sat opposite each other at the long table in the dining room. Hot tea and various cakes were served.

  “Well, Darcy,” said the Kent captain, “thirty runs needed, two wickets left to get ‘em.”

  “Could go either way couldn’t it?” said Darcy. “It’s been a good game hasn’t it?”

  “Yes. Good umpiring too. You don’t always get that. They haven’t shown any bias towards you.”

  “Lizzy’s uncle is a good man. A man of integrity.”

  “We’ve no complaints.”

  “And I assume you were behind that little joke with the bat?”

  “Me and Jonny cooked it up together yesterday. We had one of your carpenters make an extra wide bat.”

  “Well it was very clever.”

  “He could have used it too. There is nothing in The laws about the width of one’s bat.”

  “That’s what Lizzy’s uncle said. Now, how long before we go back out.”

  The captain looked at the clock.

  “A few minutes still.”

  “Good. I have just about enough time to make an announcement.”

  Darcy stood up and raised both hands.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, could I please have your attention?”

  The hubbub subsided as all eyes turned on him.

  “Thank you. I wish to inform you that there will be a small and intimate ball this evening. It will commence at nine thirty. Sadly, our friends from Kent will be leaving us soon after the match is finished. I would like to thank them for their generosity in giving up valuable time and travelling such a distance to play the match today.”

  A ripple of applause and cries of “here, here.”

  “The game is intriguingly poised. We still need another thirty runs to win on a bumping pitch. However, we still have Mr Hammond at the wicket…

  A muffled sigh from Mary which nobody heard except her mother.

  …together with Mr Bennet and of course, the redoubtable Mr Collins still to come.”

  Muffled laughter from the Kent players.

  “So, before we finish our refreshments and complete the game, please join me,” he continued, “in expressing our gratitude to the Kent team, ladies and gentlemen.”

  There was loud and sustained applause. Each of the players from Kent stood and gave a little bow.

  “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen,” said the Kent captain graciously, “for making us feel so welcome here this weekend. We are just jobbing cricketers, but the reception we have received here at Pemberley has been so warm that we are humbled. Now, Mr Darcy has kindly requested that you return to the field, for the game will commence in five minutes. Thereupon we will endeavour to capture the final two wickets, including the redoubtable Mr Collins…

  A ripple of laughter

  …and thereby win the game.”

  Mrs Bennet was the last to finish eating. She and her daughters, together with Georgiana and Charlotte, left the pavilion to resume their places near the picket fence.

  A couple of minutes later the Kent fielders came out followed by the umpires. A minute after that Jonny Hammond and Mr Bennet emerged to generous applause from all the spectators. They talked earnestly on the way to the wicket.

  “Now, the pitch is starting to bump, Mr Bennet, so batting will be more difficult. However, just try and get in behind the ball and defend your wicket.”

  “Easy for you to say, young man. My eyes are a lot older than yours. And so is the rest of me.”

  Jonny put an arm around Mr Bennet’s shoulder.

  “Don’t worry, sir. Keep it simple and you’ll be fine. And remember, it’s just a game.”

  Each went to his respective end. Jonny was facing the next over. He took guard and surveyed the fielders. The pitch had become more difficult now; some balls were bouncing after pitching and some were keeping low. However, Jonny was batting well and kept them out. He scored whenever he could, and the total crept up. He tried to farm the strike so that Mr Bennet would face as few balls as possible. When Mr Bennet did face a delivery, he defended stoutly.

  Beyond the picket fence, the spectators watched nervously. Mrs Bennet steadily chewed through the handle of her parasol.

  After half an hour together, twenty runs were needed to win. After another twenty minutes only eleven were needed. All Hammond and Bennet needed to do was to stay in and bat in this vein for another half an hour at most, and the game would be won; a splendid achievement for a team composed mainly of amateurs.

  Jonny struck a four past gully and then a couple to deep mid wicket to end the over. Mr Bennet faced the next over. He defended the first two balls and scrambled a single off the third. Four more runs required for a famous win. The third delivery yielded a two as Jonny eased the ball past fine leg and urged Mr Bennet to press hard for the second run. That meant only two runs were required to win a famous victory.

  The Kent fast bowler came in to deliver the last ball of the over. He put all his skill into it. In the main, Jonny would have been more than equal to it, but by sheer fluke it struck a divot or a molehill and shot along the ground and hit his pad. The bowler turned and appealed to Uncle Gardiner. Jonny looked up and pleaded with his eyes for his decision to be ‘not out’. Gardiner knew of course, that if he gave Mr Hammond out, then Darcy’s might well lose. But over and above such considerations, Uncle Gardiner was a man of integrity. Slowly, almost inevitably, he raised his index finger to give Jonny out. Jonny lowered his head and returned, with heavy reluctance, to the pavilion.

  Mr Collins, the last batsman, walked out with a swagger and confidence that was comical. He consulted Mr Bennet in the middle of the pitch.

  “Now, Mr Bennet,” he said, “show him the full face of the bat. Remember, the race doesn’t always go to the quickest. Or even the fastest The game will be won by the grace of God and whichever of us desires it the more. And do not forget that…”

  Mr Bennet cut him short.

  “Mr Collins, I’ll try and hit the ball. Just be ready to run.”

  The batsmen resumed their positions at the crease.

  Mr Bennet faced the bowling. He looked around the field to see where the fielders had positioned themselves, looking for gaps. The first ball was a half volley outside off stump. He drove at the ball and sent it scudding over the grass. He called Mr Collins through for a run.

  “Two, Mr Collins, there are two runs there.”

  He ran the first and turned for the second. He made his ground and looked up. To his horror he found himself looking into the face of Mr Collins. Mr Collins hadn’t moved after the first run.

  “Run, Mr Collins,” he cried.

  Mr Collins began to run the second run. It appeared he would have no hope of reaching the other end before the fielder returned the ball and ran him out. However, the fielder fumbled the ball and his throw was above the head of the wicket keeper.

  “Dive, Mr Collins, dive for the crease.”

  Mr Collins made a spectacular swallow dive, his bat extended in front of his body. He misjudged the dive though and landed well short of the crease. He wriggled his way forward like a worm and pushed his bat over the line just before the wicket keeper removed the bails.

  The game was won. Mr Bennet rushed down and lifted Collins onto his feet.

  “We won, Mr Collins, we won.”

  “Thank you, Mr Bennet. But you never really doubted me, did you?”

  In his joy, Mr Bennet said nothing but just laughed at Mr Collins.

  Spectators rushed onto the pitch. They hoisted Mr Bennet and Mr Collins onto their shoulders like sacks of grain.

  Mr Bennet enjoyed it enormously. Mr Collins didn’t.

  “Be careful, good people, please be careful. Pray don’t drop me,” said the Reverend.

  They were deposited safely on the ground in front of the pavilion. As they went inside, Mr Collins raised both arms to a
cknowledge the cries and applause, as if he were the star performer who had led his team to the famous victory. The truth was, that his sole contribution in the innings was to run two lengths of the pitch and to finish flat on his face when he mistimed his dive.

  Still, the game had been won. Everybody seemed happy. Darcy’s team were happy and shook hands and warmly congratulate each other. As the losing side, Kent were very generous in their congratulations. The spectators began to return to their homes, having witnessed an excellent game and enjoyed Mr Darcy’s generosity. Mrs Bennet was happy but not quite sure why, perhaps because food would be served before the dancing. Lizzy was happy, proud of her husband and pleased that everything had gone well. Lydia was happy because she would be returning home to her husband soon. Mary and Jonny Hammond were happy as they talked amiably in the dining room of the pavilion.

  Only Kitty was not happy as she watched the players from Kent pack up their things and prepare to return to the so-called Garden of England. She and the fast bowler gave each other a secret look, filled with the sadness at the workings of the fates.

  Mr Darcy called for attention.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all once again. Now, for those who are staying, I have asked my servants to provide ample hot water in order that you may bathe and get changed before the ball.

  “Thank heavens,” said Mr Collins, for his white trousers were heavily stained with grass following his comical, spectacular dive.

  “And there will be victuals and drink before the ball commences in four hours.”

  “Thank heavens,” thought Mrs Bennet to herself.

  Within half an hour the spectators had left, the team from Kent had commenced their journey south (together with their three hogsheads) and the remaining guests were preparing for the ball.

  Chapter 10

  As Mrs Bennet changed into a fine, if over embroidered, ball gown she spoke with her husband.

  “So, did you enjoy the game, my dear?” he said.

  “I thought it was most entertaining. Especially Mr Collins.”

  “I know. I don’t know who suggested he put beefsteak in his wicket keeping gauntlets, but it was most amusing.”

  “I have a feeling it was Mr Hammond. The younger Mr Hammond I mean. Tell me, Mr Bennet, do you like him?”

  Mr Bennet thought for a moment.

  “He’s amiable enough. However, I have heard stories about his exploits in London.”

  “Exploits in London, Mr Bennet? Pray, tell me what you have heard.”

  “Such things are not for the ears of a lady, my dear.”

  “I see. Then you are aware that he has become rather close to one of your daughters?”

  “To Kitty?”

  “Heavens no. I mean to Mary. Have you no eyes to see, Mr Bennet? I declare, if you were in sole charge of our daughters’ fortunes then they would all be unmarried still.”

  “So, Mary has been talking with Mr Hammond? Hmm, that is a concern given his reputation.”

  “And the fact that he doesn’t have a decent income, unlike your sons in law. Except Wickham of course, but he must have other talents I suppose, though I’m deuced if I know what they are. In any event Lydia seems to be missing him. And I take it you didn’t notice how Kitty and the young player from Kent looked at each other at lunch and tea?”

  “Is there anything you don’t know about matters of the heart concerning our daughter?”

  “Very little, Mr Bennet, very little.”

  As Mr Bennet dressed he was consumed by troubling thoughts. Not about Kitty and the fast bowler, but about Mary. If the rumours were true about Mr Hammond then disaster beckoned. Mary’s feelings might well be true, but Mr Hammond might only be seeking a caprice. A caprice which might ruin Mary forever. He would speak to Hammond’s brother tonight, and Mr Darcy too for he and Hammond used to be friends.

  William Hammond was also concerned as he talked to his wife.

  “It’s been a fine celebration, my love.”

  “But…?” she said turning to him with a smile.

  “You know me so well, Tess. I’m concerned about Jonny.”

  “You’re always concerned about Jonny, my love.”

  “That’s because he gives me a great deal to be concerned about. I’m worried what will happen when he returns to London. He has gambling debts. Many gambling debts, large as well as long past due. And I understand that some of his…er…creditors can be rather forceful if such debts linger too long.”

  “Forceful? Come, William, say what you mean.”

  “Listen to me, Tess, I was talking to the landlord of a tavern in Holborn. He said that he knew of a man who owed debts to a gambling syndicate. He tried to leave London to escape.”

  “And what happened to him?”

  “He was fished out of the river a couple of weeks later, pale and bloated.”

  “I’m sure that won’t happen to your brother.”

  “I hope you’re right. And another thing, he tells me he’s getting close to Miss Bennet.”

  “Mary? Yes, I noticed.”

  “But she’s Darcy’s sister in law. If anything untoward happens, it could ruin our friendship forever.”

  “Perhaps you should speak to your brother. On both matters.”

  “I will, Tess. Tonight.”

  The dinner that evening was not a lavish affair, much to Darcy’s relief and Mrs Bennet’s disappointment. It was like a social appetiser for the ball which was to take place afterwards.

  There was much chatter around the large oak table, in particular from Mr Collins, who regaled anybody who would listen, and anybody who would rather not, of his exploits on the cricket field. For the umpteenth time he related how he had won the match for ‘his’ team.

  “Oh, yes, when I walked out to bat the result was never really in doubt was it?”

  “And how do your hands feel, Collins?” said Jonny Hammond.

  “They are perfectly fine, thank you. Why do you ask?”

  “I just wondered if the beefsteak in the gauntlets helped to keep them soft.”

  An amused smile played around Mrs Collins lips and she found it difficult to look at Mr Hammond.

  “Yes, yes,” said Mr Collins in an attempt to cover his earlier embarrassment, “I think my hands do feel a little softer.”

  He had a suspicion though that Mr Hammond had played a cruel jest.

  Jonny turned to his brother.

  “Well, Will, it was a good match. And finished all too soon. It will soon be time to leave Pemberley.”

  “And return to London?”

  “Perhaps,” he said breezily, “or perhaps there is another opportunity which may be worth pursuing.”

  William drew up his chair closer.

  “What do you mean? Are you talking about Miss Bennet?”

  Mr Collins heard scraps of the conversation. He heard the name ‘Miss Bennet’ and moved his head closer.

  William and his brother talked in earnest for a while. Then Jonny stopped and turned to Mr Collind.

  “Mr Collins, why don’t you move your chair a little closer. That way you will be able to hear our conversation perfectly.”

  Mr Collins feigned innocence and turned to his wife to tell her once again how the match had been won thanks to his sterling efforts with the bat.

  “Jonny, don’t. I beg you,” went on William when he was certain Mr Collins could not hear them. “Miss Bennet is an innocent young woman. She’s Darcy’s sister in law. I know you’ve charmed women and then flung them away without a second thought, but don’t do it to Miss Bennet. She deserves better.”

  Jonny’s easy manner darkened. He looked at his brother gravely.

  “Fling her away? Is that what you thought? William, my feelings towards her are as pure as she is. I love her, I believe. I don’t want her to be my mistress. I want her to be my wife?”

  “Your wife? Jonny, are you serious?”

  “Perfectly so. But please do not say anything for now. I want to be sure
the lady feels the same.”

  William put his hand on his brother’s arm and gave him a fond smile.

  “Rely on me.”

  Further down the table, Kitty pushed her food around her plate.

  “Have you no appetite, child?” said Mrs Bennet across the table.

  “No, mama, I am not hungry this evening.”

  “But why? How can one lose one’s appetite with such delicious food on offer?”

  “It’s nothing, mama, really.”

  “Very well,” said her mother and continued to eat with vigour.

  “Unless one has met a man at a cricket match and feelings have thereby been aroused.” She murmured the words to herself, sure that nobody would hear.

  But somebody did hear. Mr Collins heard her and immediately began to make connections and draw conclusions. Which man was she talking about, he asked himself. He concluded that it could only be the younger Mr Hammond. After all, he had uttered the name ‘Miss Bennet’ only minutes before.

  “Well, Mr Hammond,” he said to himself, “you intend to pursue Miss Catherine and then no doubt discard her. You may think you bested me with your foolish jest with beefsteaks. However, you will learn quickly that Mr William Collins is not a man to be trifled with lightly. If at all.”

  He looked even more pleased with himself than usual as he continued his meal.

  After another half an hour Darcy stood up.

  “Now that most of you have finished eating…”

  Here, he glanced without turning his head, towards Mrs Bennet who was still eating pastries with gusto and evident enjoyment.

  “…there will be further entertainment in the ballroom. There will be a ball. Lizzy and I discussed the matter and realised that it has been a busy and tiring day. Therefore, it won’t be any grand affair like an assembly ball, but a short, more informal affair. Almost a few country dances really. I have hired a string quartet who will play some minuets by Mr Mozart and Mr Haydn and any other dance in which you may wish to participate.”

  “Splendid,” said Mr Bingley with a smile at his wife.

  “It will be something of a contra dance, so one can attend without a partner. Nobody is under any compulsion to join us. If you prefer, you may instead enjoy the facilities at Pemberley. There is a card room, a library, a billiard room and a study with a well stocked cupboard of excellent wines and brandies.”