Chapter Text
In retrospect, entering the Gardiner's house unannounced was certainly asking for a hoop to come flying at Tom's person.
He tried to quickly shield himself with his book of poetry as the culprit gasped in shock at his presence, the adrenaline spiking under his skin suddenly giving way to fondness.
He picked up the small hoop that had dropped by his side, making eye contact with Miss Bennet and quickly bowing politely. Though his heart was still racing from the surprise, the sight of her flustered, surprised, and perhaps even a little pleased to see him kept his heart rate up.
"The Gardiner's are out buying shoes for the children," she awkwardly explained, as he quickly took in the otherwise empty room. Playing Graces on her own? Unthinkable.
"Would you like to play Graces?" he asked, hoping she would say yes.
After a moment's pause, she agreed, much to Tom's delight. He picked up the sticks near him, this time prepared for what Miss Bennet would throw his way.
As she lined up her throw, Tom thought back to the evening when she had declined to play, claiming she would only spoil the game, yet watching it ever so intently with a hidden desire to join in. He did not believe her presence could spoil anything, only make it better. It was like the world shone a little brighter whenever he was in Miss Bennet's presence, Tom mused.
"Ready?" she asked. He nodded.
The hoop came flying his way once again, but this time he was prepared, and caught it - he was not the most coordinated of men, but her throw was fair and his long arms managed to snag the hoop out of the air.
As he did, they both giggled like schoolchildren. Miss Bennet looked awfully pleased and even a little surprised with herself, a light flush blessing her cheeks that had moved high on her face in a beautiful grin.
"I did it," she said aloud, a hint of relief behind her voice.
"You did! A natural," he agreed, smiling at her.
She looked a little self-conscious at the compliment, ducking her head. "Beginner's luck," she replied, though he could see how pleased she was with herself.
Now it was Tom's turn, and though Miss Bennet could not spoil a game of Graces, Tom was certain his ungainly limbs were not designed for this. To make the task easier for himself and so as to not tear his jacket like he had done the other evening, he gently pulled it off, laying it over a chair, and rolled up his sleeves. Once he was done, he picked up his sticks to see a flushed Miss Bennet, ready to catch his throw.
Checking that she was ready, he tossed the hoop in her direction. Unfortunately, his aim was off and it went far too high over her head for her to catch it. He rushed in to rescue her from his poor attempt as she tried her best to keep the hoop from falling to the floor, and before he knew it, they were crashing into each other.
He stepped back. Gosh, he'd made a mess of this, hadn't he? "Perhaps that is enough Graces for today," he remarked, feeling a little awkward that his own ability was not quite enough to contend with Miss Bennet's good aim.
Luckily for him, she agreed, happy enough to put down the sticks.
They spoke a little longer, as he handed her a book of poetry meant for her aunt.
"Do you like poetry, Miss Bennet?" he asked.
"I prefer facts to whimsy," she stated.
At first he almost thought her joking. Then, with eyebrows raised, he said, "whimsy?"
Poking and prodding at her interests a little longer, it was decided that he would not rest until she would appreciate poetry. He didn't think Mrs Gardiner would mind if Mary were to read the book first.
Before they could quite finish their conversation, the Gardiner's returned and they quickly rushed out to greet them. But something had changed for Tom. There was something about Miss Bennet that intrigued him, and he would not rest until he figured out what it was.