Mr. Darcy's Daughter by Rebecca Ann Collins Page B

which he remembered very little. "Oh, don't worry
too much; the umpire will make the right signals and we will tell you what you
are to write down on the score sheets," said Lizzie.
    "But
you must not get it wrong," warned her sister, "or there will be a
dreadful fuss, should one team lose by a couple of runs as a result of a
scoring error!"
    "This
sounds more terrifying than the stock market! Darcy, your sisters have me petrified;
do you really think I can do this?" he asked.
    Young
Darcy, who was captain of one of the teams, tried to reassure him.
    "There's
nothing to it. Just do as they say; they know all about it." The girls
laughed, but Mr. Carr was feeling as nervous as ever.
    Dr
Gardiner was even less sympathetic. "You will be perfectly fine if you
just watch the umpire and follow his signals," he said, and poor Mr. Carr
seemed even more confused.
    This
was beginning to sound more like hard work than play, he thought, but Cassandra
was very kind and promised to help him if things became too difficult. "It
is not as bad it sounds," she said. "There's usually lots of time
between wickets falling unless there's a rout! I shall see you aren't left to cope
alone. I shall find someone to help you."
    "That
is very good of you, Mrs. Gardiner. I feel more confident now," he said,
and they laughed as they watched the servants bringing in the baskets that were
being unloaded from a cart in the yard. They were all to be packed with food
for the match.
    Mr.
Carr was astounded--it looked as if they were preparing to feed a regiment, he
said, and Cassandra laughed and assured him that the food would all be gone
very soon.
    "Everyone
works up an excellent appetite at the cricket, you'll see," she said,
predicting that the young men in the teams would probably eat most of it.
    "They
do get very hungry after a game," she warned.
    Mr.
Carr could well believe it. Meanwhile, Darcy had set out for the cricket
ground, where the teams were to meet before the match. It was his first year as
captain of the village team and he was very keen they should win. His mother,
wishing him luck at the door, watched him go with a lump in her throat.
    Though
she never would admit it, he was her favourite and she prayed he would do well.
Cassy was devoted to her children and paid the price. Love like this was so
intense, it hurt.
    The
day had turned out crisp, mild, and bright, perfect for cricket. After an early
but hearty breakfast, the family scurried to be dressed in time for the
carriages, which were due to leave in an hour.
    Michael
Carr, who stood watching all the bustle, wondered at the effort the English
would put into organising a friendly game of cricket. He had never seen
anything like it.
    When
they reached the spot, a picturesque meadow adjacent to the Kympton churchyard,
there was already a small crowd of spectators sitting around in the shade of
the ancient trees, which ringed the ground. Some members of the teams, Darcy
among them, were practising their skills on the green. Lizzie and Laura took
charge of the scoreboard, which had been mounted on an easel, and proceeded to
instruct Mr. Carr in the intricate business of keeping cricket scores while
attempting to enjoy the game.
    Meanwhile,
Cassy and her helpers were busy organising the refreshments.
    To
all intents and purposes, their attentions appeared to be concentrated upon the
picnic rather than the match. Some of the spectators had already begun to open
up their hampers and baskets. The match had not even started; when Mr. Carr
pointed this out, Lizzie laughed, "Oh Mr. Carr, you really do not know
very much about cricket, do you? No match would be a success unless the
spectators went home with lots of food and ale inside them. That's part of the
tradition in the country." Mr. Carr nodded, realising that he had much to
learn if he was going to become part of this fascinating community.
    On
the stroke of ten, the game began, with the umpires coming out onto the field
and the visiting