Chapter 3

GAME ON

The games had been set up as a series of stations. Guests were encouraged to go around to each station, placing their guesses or answers wherever was appropriate. The winners would be revealed while Jane and Bingley opened their presents.

“Should we start with the name game?” Darcy asked.

“Sure. Should be easy enough.”

Charles and Jane had been silent to a fault on the subject of the names under consideration for their unborn son or daughter. They intended to reveal the gender of their child at the end of today’s shower but until then, anything was possible.

Elizabeth paused for a moment, looking over at the gift table and the large box placed prominently amid all the presents. She had attributed it to Darcy and his ostentation, but on further consideration she realized it was likely the gender-reveal box. Probably a box filled with balloons to tell us all if baby Bingley is male or female. In any case, for all his faults, she had never really known Darcy to be ostentatious. He was the epitome of old money, the type of guy who owned a Patek Philippe watch but had inherited it from his father, or carried a Louis Vuitton briefcase with no logo on it.

Just to be sure, she asked, as they moved towards the station for the name game, “So did your sister help you pick out a gift? Or did you have your personal Burberry shopper find something?”

He gave her a sidelong glance. “I chose it myself, actually.”

“Educational toys?”

“Stocks,” he replied, his eyes and attention having moved towards the game pages. “Which some might say are educational toys.”

Stocks! Elizabeth wanted to scorn that but…then again when Baby Bingley came of age, he or she would surely appreciate that a lot more than the distant memory of some wooden toy. Okay so I was wrong about the present. Elizabeth decided to follow his lead and focus on the game.

In this game she thought she must surely have some advantage. She knew what Jane had named her baby dolls, the names she had favored for their childhood pets, and the names she had wished were her own. This one is in the bag.

There were two pages on the table, one page of what the Bingleys might name their girl, and another indicating their potential boy names. Each guest had to determine, of those fifteen, which they believed would be the first and middle name of the child. Elizabeth picked up the page of girl names first, while Darcy selected the boy names as his starting point.

The girl names were a breeze: Maisie, Emma, Ellie, Jenna, Olivia, Lila, Grace, Alexis, Alyssa, Isabella, Darci, Chloe, Harper, Leah, Brooklyn. Elizabeth wrote down Lila Grace as her guess with barely a moment of hesitation.

The boy names were more questionable because Elizabeth had no baby dolls or pets to recall. She studied the names carefully: Winston, Hubert, Charles, William, Jason, Jack, Tyler, Aidan, Logan, Lucas, Noah, Nicholas, Cole, Matthew, Stewart. She smirked, seeing that Darcy had selected ‘Charles Hubert’ as his guess. She knew, very well, that Jane didn’t want a ‘Jr.’ and would never, ever saddle her child with a middle name like Hubert. Seeing that Darcy was already finished with the girl names, she selected quickly, scribbling Aidan Cole as her best guess.

As they strolled away from the table, Darcy asked, his tone casual, “Do you know what Bingley’s father’s name was?”

Elizabeth thought a moment, then replied, “Something weird right? Didn’t they call him Chip or Chaps or something like that?”

“Actually, they called him Chubs.”

Elizabeth laughed. “I only saw one picture of him, but it seemed like an odd nickname, because he was rather thin.”

“He was,” Darcy agreed. “They didn’t call him Chubs in reference to his weight though.”

“No?”

“Nope,” Darcy replied. “It was the shortened version of his name—Charles Hubert.”

There was a pause while Elizabeth mulled this over, finally saying, “Jane has always said she wouldn’t’t want her son to be a ‘Jr’—she says everyone deserves their own name.”

“That’s true,” Darcy agreed. “Then again, Charles is actually Bingley’s second name—of course you knew that from their wedding, right?”

Elizabeth felt a sinking sensation. She had known that, because at the wedding, she had been surprised to hear that Jane was marrying not Charles Bingley, but Winston Charles Bingley, the first name being his grandmother’s maiden name.

Suddenly she paused, another recollection intruding on her. Their grandmother, Olivia Bennet, had been born on the same day as Jane’s due date. Surely Jane would pick Olivia if the baby came on their grandmother’s birthdate?

She turned back. “Just a minute, I think I?—”

“Oh no, no.” Darcy grabbed her and stopped her. “All guesses are final, Miss Bennet.”

The second game they approached, set up in the dining room, was titled Guess What This Is? None of the other guests had found their way to that particular station as yet, and so Darcy and Elizabeth were alone to see the row of baby food jars lined up before them.

“Every single one of those looks absolutely disgusting,” Darcy pronounced, looking at the little jars. Small tasting spoons had been set beside each, so that each guest would be able to taste, and hopefully identify the substance within the unlabeled, numbered jar.

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose and nodded in agreement. She picked up Jar #1 which contained a purplish-red substance, sniffing it dubiously. It smells...like food. Perhaps something with berries?

She took a tasting spoon, and dipped it into the jar, bringing a sample to her mouth and tasting it cautiously. It wasn’t berries...beets maybe? She made a face, wishing she had her blue drink to wash it down, and scribbled her answer on the sheet. With a sigh, she looked at Jar #2. It was beige. Or was it gray? Somewhere between gray and beige, and wholly unpalatable.

Darcy, who hadn’t made a move toward any of the jars, said, “Well, you can have the point for this one. I’m not tasting these.”

“What?” Elizabeth protested immediately. “No, you have to.”

“I don’t want to. Take the point.”

“I don’t want your charity. When I win this, it’ll be fair and square, and solely because I’ve beaten you.”

“Well, I think I’m going to be sufficiently ahead to be able to toss the point your way on this one.”

“Wrong!” Her voice had risen, and she paused, calming herself. “You can’t just give me a point. It doesn’t work that way. I insist you try.”

“Fine, I’ll just write things down based on how they smell.”

“They all smell the same! Like nothing!”

He crossed his arms. “So, you insist I taste whatever horrors reside in these little jars so you can have bragging rights? So you can feel solid in your victory...a victory which is highly unlikely, by the way.”

“I refuse to win by default,” Elizabeth replied, her voice hard. “This whole little wager was your idea, now man up and play the game. It won’t kill you.”

“It just might.”

“It might do you good to eat something that doesn’t have Michelin stars attached to it, you know.”

He only shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest, looking unbearably smug. “Sorry. Won’t do.”

She grabbed a spoon, digging deeply into the beige jar which, on further reflection, smelled like dog food. She took a large scoop, or at least as large as the spoon would permit (which was still probably less than a teaspoon) and eyed Darcy speculatively. “I intend to carry my point, Mr Darcy.”

He did not misunderstand her. “Don’t you dare,” he said with a laugh.

She lunged toward Darcy, who immediately stepped backwards. “Come on, just be a sport.” She lunged again.

This time, Darcy reached out, grasping her hand and turning it over, shocking her into stillness. With his large hand wrapped around her wrist, he bent his head and gently kissed the skin on the inner part of her wrist.

“Hey,” she protested weakly. “Not fair.”

“No?” He did it again. “Why not?”

“I don’t know, it’s just…that was a kiss. You were only supposed to get a kiss if you won and now you won’t even play. I think gentlemanly honor demands you taste it now.”

“Gentlemanly honor, hmm?” Quick as a wink he released her, extending his hand for the spoon. She handed it to him, and he brought it to his nose for a sniff. “Well this will be your proof then.”

Some ladies were approaching; their voices could be heard coming down the little hallway toward the dining room. Darcy leaned in, his dark eyes heated and intent on her.

“My proof? Proof of what?” The way he regarded her made her feel a little weak in the knees.

“Proof that I am intrigued by you, charmed by you...thoroughly captivated by your beauty, and always won over by your intelligence. I can’t stop thinking about you when I’m not with you.”

Three older women entered the dining room and Elizabeth cast a quick smile toward them. They were busy gossiping and barely noticed Elizabeth and Darcy.

When she turned back to him, Darcy was still looking at her intently. “I would do anything to please you,” he said in a low tone. “Even if it’s eating some foul substance on a little spoon.”

Darcy quickly took a taste of the baby food. Elizabeth felt mesmerized, watching him as he took several small, contemplative bites.

“Bananas with oatmeal,” he said in a normal tone. “Not bad at all.”