A Duel in Meryton

by Renata McMann

  “You heard about Anne,” Darcy reiterated.

  Richard nodded. “It’s very sad, but not very surprising. She was always so sickly, and after that incident with Mr. Blackmore, she was even worse.” He let out a sigh. “Truth be told, I didn’t expect her to last as long as she did. Aunt Catherine must be in quite a state. Is that why you need me?”

  “You always were better with our aunt,” Darcy conceded. “But, no, that is not why you are required here. Or maybe, in a way, it is.”

  “You’re being convoluted, Darcy,” Richard said. “That’s not like you. What’s wrong? Where is Aunt Catherine?”

  Darcy cleared his throat. “Aunt Catherine is dead. We already held the funeral.”

  Richard stared at him. “Dead?”

  Darcy nodded.

  “But, Aunt Catherine is…formidable. Indestructible. Practically a force of nature.”

  Darcy shrugged. “I think losing Anne broke her heart,” he said softly.

  Richard drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. “I should have come sooner. The moment I heard Anne died. I wrote, but that wasn’t enough. Maybe, with me here, Aunt Catherine—”

  “You couldn’t have known Lady Catherine would take Anne’s loss so hard,” Darcy cut in. “And there’s no way to guess if you could have done anything for her, if you were here.”

  Richard nodded, but his expression remained glum. He let out a sigh. “Well, then, let’s get on with it. I assume we’re coexecutors again? I didn’t mean to hold things up, trap you here. I know you have Pemberley to run.” He waved a hand at Darcy. “You could have handled this without me, you know. It’s not as if I demand you consult me on every little thing with Georgiana, so why would you think I’d balk at you handling Aunt Catherine’s affairs? I trust your judgment.”

  “I appreciate that,” Darcy said.

  “Although you did hire that disaster of a governess, Mrs. Younge,” Richard added with a new frown.

  Darcy grimaced. He didn’t care to be reminded of Mrs. Younge, which could only serve to bring the incident with Georgiana and Wickham into his thoughts. If Darcy had his way, he would never hear of Mrs. Younge, George Wickham or Ramsgate again. The next time Georgiana wished for a holiday, he would take her to Bath, chaperoning her himself.

  “Is that why you called me away from my military duties, because your selection of Mrs. Younge and that near scandal in Ramsgate has you questioning your judgment?” Richard waved off the question, even as he asked. “No, it can’t be that. Maybe you need my help tracking people down? Perhaps one of Sir Lewis’ relatives inherited Rosings? I believe I’ve met a few of them, but I can’t remember their names and have no idea where they live.”

  “No.” Darcy was beginning to be as frustrated by Richard’s presence as he’d been by his absence. Richard, normally amiable but not the least flighty, was particularly garrulous. Darcy was about to suggest his cousin fall silent when Richard looked away and surreptitiously rubbed one eye, then the other.

  Anne’s and their Aunt Catherine’s deaths were harder on Richard, Darcy realized. Richard had always been closer with their cousin and aunt than Darcy had. Lady Catherine had made the right choice.

  Richard cleared his throat. “No? Aunt Catherine didn’t leave Rosings to Sir Lewis’ relatives?” He blinked. “Of course. You need me because I am executor. She left Rosings to you. She always meant for you to marry Anne and have this place. You will take excellent care of Rosings. Aunt Catherine will be happy.” He rubbed at his eyes again.

  “Richard,” Darcy said firmly. “Be silent for a moment, please.”

  Richard gave him a startled look and nodded.

  “First,” Darcy enumerated with a finger, “I am sole executor.” He saw Richard wanted to interrupt again, so he went on quickly. “Second,” another finger went up, “I had no idea of what was in Lady Catherine’s will until her lawyer read it to me.” He put up a third finger. “Third, several of Sir Lewis’ relatives get bequests and I know where those who do are to be found.” With his fourth finger up, Darcy concluded, “Fourth, after those bequests, minor bequests to the servants and a few pensions, you are the sole heir.”

  Richard leaned back in his chair, expression one of utter shock. “Me?”

  Darcy returned his hand to the desktop. “You.”

  Richard blinked several times. He swiveled in his chair to look behind him, as if some other heir might spring up, then turned back to Darcy. “Why not Arthur or Walter? They’re both older than I am.”

  Darcy shrugged. “I can only guess, but I’m certain one factor is that neither of your brothers have visited our aunt in years. More importantly, Lady Catherine appreciated you saving Anne from Blackmore.”

  The startled look remained on Richard’s face. “But still, as a third son, I never expected to inherit anything.”

  “You are only minutes younger than Walter,” Darcy said. Of course, in most ways, it didn’t matter if brothers were twenty years apart or twenty minutes, as was the case with the twins, Walter and Richard. The older son was deemed more important.

  “Yes, and we were both provided for.”

  “Walter better than you,” Darcy pointed out. The property Walter had inherited brought more money than Richard’s military rank.

  Richard shrugged. “I care too much for Walter to begrudge him his inheritance.” He leaned forward in his chair. “You don’t think he’ll be upset I’m to have Rosings?”

  Darcy certainly hoped not. “I suspect that once the shock wears off, Walter will feel the same way about you inheriting Rosings as you do about his inheritance.”

  Richard leaned back again. He looked about the office and let out a long breath. “I can’t believe Rosings is mine.”

  “There is one, minor, drawback,” Darcy said. He paged through his aunt’s will. “Lady Catherine wrote a new will after Anne’s death. Essentially, she gave all of Anne’s dowry, plus all the funds on hand, to Sir Lewis’ relatives and to several of the long-term servants.”

  Richard frowned. “That seems reasonable to me. I don’t need everything.”

  Darcy shook his head. “It’s not a matter of reason. It’s a matter of solvency. It takes money to run Rosings.”

  “Oh, yes, of course,” Richard said. “Uh, how much money? Won’t more be coming in?”

  Darcy nodded. “Yes, but perhaps not quickly enough.” He pulled free another page. “I’ve already found a solution. You can sell the living at Hunsford. Lady Catherine was in the process of finding someone when Anne died. She never took back up the task.”

  “Mr. Grigg left?” Richard asked. “I didn’t know.”

  “You recall how erratic last Easter’s sermon was?” Darcy asked.

  “I do. I could have recited it better than he did, I’ve heard it from him so many times.”

  “Mr. Grigg’s memory is failing him,” Darcy said. “Aunt Catherine sent him to live with his youngest daughter shortly after we departed this past Easter. She hadn’t found a suitable replacement yet.”

  “And that would help?” Richard asked.

  “It would.”

  Richard drummed his fingers on the chair arm. “No, I don’t want to sell it,” he said after a moment.

  “I believe Aunt Catherine meant for you to do so,” Darcy assured him. “It’s my guess, based on her allocation of funds, that she considered the value of the living when she wrote the will. If you sell it for what it is worth, you will have plenty of funds on hand.”

  “Be that as it may, I don’t want to sell it.”

  Darcy opened his mouth to protest.

  Richard held up a finger, a half smile letting Darcy know the gesture for deliberate mimicry. “Remember two years ago, when I was wounded, almost killed?”

  “I do.” Receiving the news was difficult to forget. Darcy had been considerably alarmed at the prospect of losing his favorite cousin and closest confidant.

  “The man who saved my life, the ensign who carried me off the field, he lef
t the service and became a clergyman. I want to offer him the living.”

  Darcy couldn’t deny the rightness of that. “He hasn’t found a living yet?”

  “Only a curacy,” Richard said. “And it’s barely enough to scrape by. I owe him, and I like him. And he makes a good clergyman.”

  “Starting out as an ensign isn’t the usual path to become a clergyman,” Darcy observed, trying to judge the soundness of Richard’s choice.

  “It is if you went to university before joining the army.”

  “He had an education, but signed on regardless?”

  Richard shrugged. “He decided his duty lay in the army.” He leveled a piercing look on Darcy, a reminder that Darcy had never seen war firsthand. “He wouldn’t be the first to change his mind after experiencing a battlefield.”

  “True.” Darcy wondered how much of what Richard said referred to himself.

  “He saved my life,” Richard reiterated. He looked about the room, their uncle’s room. “If I give him the living, will I be able to afford to run Rosings?”

  Darcy ran back over the figures in his mind. “Barely. You won’t have money for emergencies, but you should make it to quarter day without difficulty. Then you’ll have more ready funds.”

  “And if there is an emergency?” Richard asked.

  “I don’t recommend it, but you will be able to borrow if you have an emergency.”

  “What, ah, constitutes an emergency, when it comes to managing an estate?” Richard asked.

  It pleased Darcy that Richard was obviously considering the possibility. Running an estate like Rosings took years of practice, and even then, the possibility always existed for something to go wrong. Some factors were beyond control, like the weather, or tenants leaving for various reasons. Death, fire. If Richard truly wished to give the Hunsford living away, he should understand the potential consequences.

  “Here,” Darcy said, pulling out a clean sheet of paper. “I’ll give you some likely obstacles, and how much it should cost to manage them.”

  He took up a pen, trimmed it, and opened the inkwell. He wrote down likely emergencies and estimates of the amount each would cost. He wanted to give Richard an understanding of what was needed as a reserve fund. Richard had always lived within his income, but Darcy worried that he would feel his wealth allowed him to spend an unlimited amount of money. If there were no emergencies and Richard did not spend more than Lady Catherine had, the reserve fund would build up very soon, and Richard would have more leeway, but until then, there existed a very real danger of being short of funds. Darcy wrote for some time. Finally, he pushed the page across to Richard.

  Richard scanned it for a long moment. Finally, he looked up, expression slightly dazed. “I never realized so many things could go wrong with an estate.”

  “Not could,” Darcy corrected. “Will. Eventually, most or even all those things will happen. You can only hope too many don’t happen at once, and that you have the funds set aside to deal with them.”

  Richard dropped his attention to the page again. “Contagious disease?” he said, reading one of the lines, then looked back up, eyebrows raised.

  “We had an illness run through Derbyshire during planting season, two years ago,” Darcy said. “We needed to bring in extra men to help with the planting or, come autumn, we would have had to buy extra goods, which would have cost much more.”

  “And in this section under weather, it says too much rain, then too little rain. Not enough sun. Early frost in the autumn. Late frost in the spring. Hail. High winds.” He glanced past Darcy, at the office’s large window. “I know the weather affects planting, but I never gave it diligent consideration.”

  “Now, you shall need to.”

  Twin lines appeared on Richard’s brow. “Darcy, I don’t know if I’m up to this.”

  “Of course, you are.” Darcy offered a slight smile. “As a man who’s seen a battlefield firsthand, you can certainly learn to manage Rosings.”

  Richard gave a weak chuckle.

  Darcy grew serious once more. “And, with your permission, I will remain for a time to assist you.” It was not part of Darcy’s duty as executor to teach Richard how to be a landowner, but it was an obligation he felt both to Richard as his friend and cousin, as well as to the memory of his aunt and the estate itself.

  “That would be greatly appreciated.” Richard shifted in his chair. “Several weeks ago, Walter wrote me about some of the difficulties he’s suffered. He’s having to live very frugally to cover unexpected expenses. I admit, I uncharitably assumed he was at fault. He’s always been a bit erratic.” Richard tapped the list. “I hadn’t realized being a landowner could be so difficult. I hope all the emergencies you spoke of don’t happen at once.”

  As they were cousins, Darcy was somewhat familiar with Walter’s estate. Darcy felt it prudent to keep his opinion of Walter’s managerial abilities to himself. “I hope so as well, but it’s best to be prepared, so you do not need to sink into debt after each unforeseen event. You are lucky Lady Catherine was a good manager. She also has an excellent steward. You should keep him, if he’ll stay on.”

  “Right,” Richard said. “I’ll ask him.” He nodded to the ledgers stacked on the desk. “So, where do we start? I’m sure you already have them memorized.”

  Instead of refuting that, Darcy pulled one of the volumes from the pile and opened it to a row of figures. He slid it across the table to Richard. “After the bequests, the available funds are enough to run Rosings at a slightly reduced level until quarter day, which will bring in well over two thousand pounds. On top of that, the sale of excess goods from Rosings’ farm will bring in a bit more.”

  Richard looked startled. “It sounds like I will have a great deal of money.”

  That was the attitude Darcy feared, and must work to stamp out. For Richard’s sake, and Lady Catherine’s, Darcy would make him a better landholder than his twin brother. “That is two thousand pounds before you pay your expenses and begin the chore of replenishing the reserve fund. In time, you will have some ready cash, of course. Especially if, for now, you are frugal and invest.”

  Richard nodded, expression suitably serious.

  Feeling his cousin was coming to understand the gravity of the task before him, Darcy allowed a slight smile. “You do, however, have a major problem that I cannot solve.”

  “Do I?” Richard asked, eyebrows raised. “What is this serious problem that you, Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, cannot solve?”

  “One I’ve been grappling with for years myself. You will be the target of every fortune hunter in England, and all of their relatives.”

  Chapter Four

  Months later

  As the dinner hour drew near at Darcy House, his London residence, Darcy looked about the parlor with satisfaction. He hated crowds full of strangers, potentially full of people he would be introduced to who were not worth knowing. He took exception to anyone the least bit vulgar. This, however, was different. Tonight, he’d invited precisely the correct guests, it being his home and his prerogative.

  His good friend, Charles Bingley, was staying at Darcy House for a visit after returning from the house he rented in Hertfordshire. That meant the addition of Bingley’s always proper and socially adept sisters. One, Miss Caroline Bingley, had not yet wed, making her a particularly good companion to and example for Darcy’s sister, Georgiana. The other, a Mrs. Louisa Hurst, had selected an eminently inoffensive gentleman to espouse. Mr. Hurst could be counted on to add little to conversation, politely making Darcy seem less withdrawn, and to admire and consume any and all food offered, which flattered Darcy’s cook.

  Also present, fortuitously, was Richard. He’d arrived in London only that morning and sent a note informing Darcy of such. Darcy had cheerfully asked his cousin to be a last-minute addition to their dinner. Not only for Richard’s conversation, which always proved a good match to Bingley’s. Richard would also serve to divert Miss Bingley’s attention, at lea
st somewhat, from Darcy. Miss Bingley had the unfortunate habit of over-attending Darcy’s words. Since Richard inherited Rosings, however, she’d divided her attention equally between Darcy and Richard, on the one occasion they both were in the room.

  Most importantly, Richard would help with Darcy’s main goal for the evening, reaccustoming Georgiana to company. Georgiana adored Richard. As Anne had, Darcy’s sister often seemed inclined to seek Richard out for conversation. Somehow, he managed to combine the easy-going affability Bingley boasted with Darcy’s competence and reliability. Darcy assumed that made Richard a good leader of men. He knew it made their cousin a good confidant for Georgiana. She needed someone which whom to converse, other than her companion, Mrs. Annesley.

  Darcy watched his sister as they all assembled in the dining room. She kept her attention on her feet as she walked toward the table. With eight people, all good friends, Darcy hadn’t requested place cards or pressed for a formal seating arrangement. He wanted this occasion to be somewhat informal, but he hoped Georgiana would take her place as hostess, especially since she knew he wanted her to do so.

  She did and must have realized that Richard would sit on her right, since he was the highest-ranking male guest, because she demurely invited Mr. Hurst to sit on her other side, to Darcy’s chagrin. He’d hoped Georgiana would feel comfortable talking to the people on either side of her and had wanted those people to be either Bingley or his sisters, who would socialize with her. Mr. Hurst’s primary interest at dinner was, well, dinner. This left her between a man who would be content to say nothing and her cousin. She would not have the experience of talking to Bingley or his sisters. Because he knew them well, Darcy easily read the look Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst exchanged. They had wanted Bingley to sit beside Georgiana as well.

  Darcy knew they hoped for a match between Bingley and Georgiana, something he would have welcomed. Bingley was a friend and was likely to treat Darcy’s sister well. Georgiana, however, showed no inclination toward Bingley. Darcy had broached the subject with her only once. She’d shaken her head no, then become even more withdrawn than ever in Bingley’s company. Bingley continued to be friendly toward her and treated her more as a younger sister than as a possible romantic interest. He was sensitive enough not to push his company on her, despite the obvious encouragement his sisters gave.