Loving Mr. Darcy: Journeys Beyond Pemberley by Sharon Lathan Read Free Book Online

so he passed on the wine. The atmosphere remained animated, many of the spectators already partially in their cups. Darcy shared a table with Bingley, Mr. Bennet, Lizzy's uncle Mr. Phillips, and three younger men, friends of Bingley, whom he had met at the Lucas's dinner.
    "Mr. Bennet," Darcy inquired, "which man is Mr. Simpson?"
    Lizzy's father nodded toward a table by the window. "The fellow to the right of Sir Lucas." Darcy identified the indicated man with staggered surprise.
    "Are you certain?" he blurted, setting Mr. Bennet laughing.
    "Quite. I have known him all my life. His eldest son was my closest companion, until he passed on some five years ago."
    Elliot Simpson was five and eighty if he was a day. He was a stooped, frail man closely resembling a sparrow in his fragility and delicacy. Darcy had noted him earlier in the day but had promptly dismissed the tremulous elderly gent. Frankly, he could not imagine how the same hands which currently experienced difficulty lifting his wine goblet could manage a billiard cue! He was honestly entertaining the notion that a jest was being played on him when Mr. Bennet spoke.
    "I fancy the picture before you renders the erroneous conclusion that you have been misinformed. Let me assure you, my boy, place a cue in Simpson's hands and a new creature emerges. In all my days, I have never seen anyone with his mastery. He is a true wizard at billiards." He glanced at Darcy's frowning mien, chuckling softly and smiling inscrutably. "Of course, there are few certainties in life," he said, repeating Darcy's own words to Ravencraw, "so chin up!"
    Darcy snorted but smiled faintly, privately anticipating the challenge, as hard as it remained for him to credit. Thankfully, after luncheon Darcy earned a respite for one round so was able to witness Simpson in action. He had sincerely never witnessed the like. The old man shuffled to the table assigned him, wheezing mildly, and took hold of his cue. Instantaneously, twenty years fell from his bearing. He straightened considerably, although still bowed, quivering hands settling around the thin wood steady and confident. He wielded the cue as if it were an attached appendage, his hand-to-eye coordination magical in its accuracy. His opponent, the aforementioned Mr. Dashwell, put up a good fight but lost by a fair margin.
    Suddenly, the friendly match took on a note of true challenge for Darcy. In all the years of playing the finest players in London, Darcy had encountered only four men who could honestly be considered supreme masters of the sport. Even Darcy, as excellent as he was, did not fit into that magical realm of the gifted artisan, the virtuoso. That Mr. Simpson was such a man was without dispute. Therefore, it was doubtful that Darcy could defeat him, and he knew it. Nonetheless, like any legitimate lover of billiards or contests of any kind, he intended to try. Win or lose, the test of one's abilities was the paramount trial, not to mention what made it fun!
    Now that the tournament was in its final stages--with the poorer players eliminated, leaving only the chief competitors--the excitement level had risen. With each round, as the total number decreased from eight then to six then to four, the atmosphere was feverish. Darcy attacked his next three bouts with all his might. The first two he won handily by wide point spreads. The third, the determinate playoff before the final game, was against Mr. Dashwell. It was Darcy's toughest challenge thus far, Dashwell being on an equal par with Darcy. It was a close game, each scoring readily after the other; however, Darcy won eventually by a mere twenty points.
    Enraptured by the charged climate in the room as Sir Lucas solemnly announced the Championship Game between Mr. Elliot Simpson and Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Darcy could not resist smiling inwardly. He experienced the same electricity as all the spectators whenever involved in these sorts of events; nonetheless, it amused him how men