A Duel in Meryton

by Renata McMann

  To Darcy’s mind, the silence that met Bingley’s declaration was a clear sign no one agreed with him.

  “Yes, well, it’s only a sniffle,” Miss Bingley said. “We can hope she’ll be gone tomorrow.”

  Darcy offered silent agreement as he passed his outerwear to a waiting footman.

  “A hand of whist, anyone?” Richard suggested in a light voice.

  Miss Bingley’s expression morphed into one of amiability. “Only if you will partner me, Mr. Fitzwilliam. That way, I shall count this evening not as a loss, but as one of the most pleasant so far in Hertfordshire.”

  “I believe I have partnered you in whist five times already, Miss Bingley,” Richard said in an amiable tone as he moved forward to offer his arm.

  “And each time we have won, sir, marking us as a formidable coupling,” Miss Bingley said as they moved off together down the hall.

  Darcy watched in bemusement. He didn’t mind a cessation of Miss Bingley’s pursuit of him. He only hoped Richard knew what he was about. The woman could be tenacious. Or did Richard seek the match? Richard had denied as much to Bingley, but that was some weeks ago. Miss Bingley had social grace and a large dowry. Darcy glanced to Bingley to gauge his reaction to the flirtation, only to find him still gazing up the staircase.

  “Bingley, Darcy, one of you must join me in whist,” Mr. Hurst said. “If I play with my wife as a partner again, I will lose all patience with her. It is up to one of you to ensure harmony in our marriage.”

  “Come, Bingley, you are her brother,” Darcy said, worried his friend might actually seek Miss Bennet. “It is your duty to promote marital accord.”

  “Hm? What?” Bingley asked, turning toward Darcy.

  “Whist. Come.” Darcy gestured Bingley to precede him, with little hope his friend would be able to concentrate well enough on the game to have a chance against Miss Bingley and Richard.

  Bingley nodded and headed down the hall, casting one final look toward the staircase. Darcy followed, intending to read the newspaper he had missed earlier. He offered a second wish for Miss Bennet, and her hold over Bingley, to depart come morning.

  As he followed, Darcy reviewed his discussion with Richard in the carriage. Odd, that Richard should make such a point of swearing Bingley to secrecy. First, because Richard grew up on such an estate and he’d had neighbors. He knew most losses to an estate were not secret. Walter’s problems were probably well known by people who lived near him, and thus, by anyone with whom they cared to gossip. Second, swearing Bingley to secrecy called attention to the conversation and made it more significant. After a good meal with a bit of wine, Bingley might easily pay little attention and even less heed.

  Darcy’s gaze narrowed. His cousin might decry Darcy for managing other peoples’ lives, but Richard was at least as bad, though more subtle. With Bingley considering the purchase of an estate, Darcy suspected Richard wished Bingley to understand that buying such an estate, complete with tenant farms, was a great and unpredictable responsibility. It was the only explanation for Richard’s behavior. A private conversation with Darcy at some other time would hardly be difficult to come by, in a location without Bingley or Mr. Hurst, who could have woken at any moment.

  A new, more horrifying notion hit Darcy. Bingley’s considering buying an estate might mean he was planning to put down roots, and roots might be a prelude to him getting married. To Miss Bennet.

  Darcy entered the parlor with a scowl on his face to find Richard, Bingley, Hurst and Miss Bingley assembling for cards. Mrs. Hurst read in a chair near the fire, Georgiana similarly occupied across from her. She looked up, took in Darcy’s scowl, rolled her eyes and returned to her book.

  Darcy spent an interminable evening reading the paper, waiting for an acceptable time to retire. This he followed with a restless sleep, visions of Mrs. Bennet marauding about Bingley’s home with her relatives filling his mind. Darcy would never be able to visit again. When morning finally came, he descended to break his fast with the hope of seeing Miss Bennet up, well, and back in her own gown. In short, ready to depart.

  He entered the breakfast parlor to find it empty of all but Richard, who greeted him with a nod. Darcy nodded back and selected a seat. A footman hurried over to offer coffee.

  “Any news on Miss Bennet?” Darcy asked.

  “Only rumor, but that says she is, sadly, not improved.”

  Darcy wondered if that were true or Miss Bennet simply wished to remain at Netherfield in hopes of capturing Bingley. Were it in any way appropriate, Darcy would personally assess her condition. Instead, he frowned and said, “We should send for a doctor.”

  “I believe Bingley already has.”

  “Bingley is about already?” Darcy asked, surprised. Bingley generally slept well into the morning.

  “He rose early out of concern for Miss Bennet,” Richard said, tone neutral. “It seems she’s a good influence on him.”

  Darcy cast his cousin a sharp look. Richard obviously suspected Darcy didn’t wish Bingley’s prospects squandered on Miss Bennet. Did Richard disapprove?

  “Why, what a pleasant way to break my fast,” Miss Bingley said, entering the room. “Mr. Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy, all to myself. Good morning, gentlemen.”

  Darcy stood, Richard mimicking the movement across the table from him. Miss Bingley took the seat at the head, between them. She nodded to a footman who brought her tea.

  “You’ve seen Miss Bennet this morning?” Darcy asked, for he could count on Miss Bingley for an honest opinion of the lady’s state.

  Miss Bingley grimaced. “I have. Charles insisted. Practically dragged me from my bed and shoved me into her room, with no care that I might be exposed to a contagion. The poor thing is quite ill, I’m afraid. Charles went dashing off after a doctor. He means to pass by the Bennet residence on his way back, to advise them.” A line marred her brow. “What do they call the place? Longthorn?”

  “Longbourn, I believe,” Richard said, slathering butter on a bun.

  Miss Bingley shrugged. “Well, whatever they call it, do you know what I heard? They shan’t even keep it. It’s entailed away, to some cousin somewhere. That’s part of the reason Mrs. Bennet is so desperate to get all those daughters into wealthy hands. She’ll need to live with any man foolish enough to wed one.”

  At least that somewhat explained the woman’s willingness to let Miss Bennet ride out in inclement weather. Darcy didn’t envy anyone five daughters and no sons. Even someone as silly and crass as Mrs. Bennet didn’t deserve such a fate.

  “That’s a shame,” Richard said. “The world would be better served if the Bennet sisters were able to marry for affection, rather than fortune. They’re a biddable, attractive lot.”

  Miss Bingley turned to him with wide eyes. “Perhaps we speak of a different Bennet family, Mr. Fitzwilliam. I count only Miss Bennet as attractive or biddable.”

  “If that is what you see, then we must indeed be speaking of different Bennet sisters,” Richard replied. “I’ll grant that the middle sister holds a touch less charm than the other four, but that is as far as I shall bend.”

  “Less charm?” Miss Bingley’s voice sparked with mirth. “Miss Mary is as plain and drab as week old bread. She speaks with no intelligence, plays poorly and squawks like a dying mallard when she sings.”

  “That seems a touch harsh,” Richard murmured.

  Darcy recognized Richard’s mild tone as disapproval. He’d been on the receiving end of that tone often enough.

  “And as for the youngest two,” Miss Bingley continued, undaunted, “they’re such hoydens as to render any initial impression of beauty moot. Attractiveness is not, after all, simply a matter of skin tone. It’s an assemblage of accomplishments, wit and manners.”

  “Then you must allow Miss Elizabeth to be attractive, at least,” Richard said. “I’ve been told she plays and sings well, though I’ve yet to have the privilege. She’s well read, lovely to converse with, a fine dancer, elegant of manner and
keen of wit.”

  Darcy hadn’t heard of Miss Elizabeth’s playing and singing or had the opportunity to assess how well read she was. She’d avoided his company since their first meeting at the assembly. It galled him that, although both Miss Elizabeth and Miss Lucas had guessed a wager underway, only he seemed to suffer censure. Richard, they accepted with all amiability.

  Miss Bingley shook her head. “I can only assume you were subjected to women of such poor quality on the Continent that your sense of measure is askew, Mr. Fitzwilliam. Pray, do not make any hasty choices until you’ve reacclimated. You’ll soon find your infatuation with Miss Elizabeth very ill-placed.”

  “Infatuation?” Richard shook his head. “I simply listed the lady’s qualities as any man would see them.”

  “Any infatuated man,” Miss Bingley countered. She turned to Darcy, obviously seeking an ally. “Mr. Darcy, you be the judge. Is Miss Elizabeth as lovely as Miss Bennet, or even passable by any true measure?”

  Darcy frowned, annoyed to be included in such a frivolous, gossip-laden conversation.

  “Yes, Darcy, do give us your opinion of Miss Elizabeth,” Richard said, tone one of challenge.

  “I cannot speak to the young lady’s accomplishments, but her eyes are quite fine,” Darcy admitted. “They lend a moderate attraction to her countenance.”

  “What is this?” Miss Bingley asked in feigned shock. “Moderate attraction? High praise indeed. I stand corrected, Mr. Fitzwilliam. One of Miss Bennet’s sisters has a single, moderately attractive feature. Therefore, any man should be happy to wed her and enjoy her lack of consequence and her overbearing dam.”

  “On the topic of things anyone should be pleased to endure,” Richard said, turning slightly to Darcy, “the day dawns fine. It’s high time for my morning ride.”

  “But with the rain, the ground shall be mud,” Miss Bingley protested.

  “I believe, from time to time, I’ve endured worse than mud,” Richard said, and stood. “Miss Bingley. Darcy.” With a nod to each of them, he quit the room.

  “Well, even more fortuitous. I am able to dine alone with you, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Bingley said, and launched into a one-sided conversation about ideal walking weather.

  Darcy responded as little as possible, all the while wondering that Miss Bingley couldn’t see how her belittlement of the Bennet sisters put off Richard. Then, she never seemed to notice Darcy’s attempts to hint at his lack of interest in her advances. Miss Bingley quite obviously lived in a world highly colored by delusion.

  Soon, they were joined by the Hursts, then Georgiana. Bingley didn’t return until they’d all finished their morning meals and Richard had come back, notably cheerful, from his ride. Bingley let them know he’d broken his return from seeking the doctor, who was to arrive later by gig, with a stop at Longbourn.

  With that information, they settled into one of the larger parlors. Darcy perused a book to avoid further conversation, while his sister sat near a window, embroidering. Bingley, Miss Bingley, Mrs. Hurst and Richard elected cards once more, while Mr. Hurst dozed on a sofa with the paper.

  The time for luncheon was still far from upon them when Andrews, Netherfield’s butler, appeared. “A Miss Elizabeth Bennet to see you, sir.”

  Bingley’s expression showed surprise, but he nodded. “Show her in, please.”

  Andrews’ retreat was soon followed by his reappearance. Miss Elizabeth arrived in his wake, then glided past him into the room. Along with the other gentlemen, Darcy stood, unable to avoid studying the subject of their morning conversation.

  Her eyes were as fine as he recalled, alight with interest. Her skin glowed with health. Though in appearance free of dies or powders, her lips were a pink bow. Dark curls framed a face that more correctly matched Richard’s description than Darcy’s, for Miss Elizabeth was, indeed, a rather beguiling creature.

  “Miss Elizabeth, welcome,” Bingley said, striding forward.

  “Mr. Bingley.” She dropped a slight curtsy. “I do not mean to be presumptuous, but this morning, when you said I might come tend to Jane, I felt I must take you at your word.”

  “Yes, of course. Certainly. I hoped you would,” Bingley said. “She’ll be all the better for your attentions. The doctor will be by this afternoon. I’m afraid he was setting a leg when I called on him.”

  “Miss Elizabeth,” Mrs. Hurst said. “Whatever has befallen your dress?”

  “My dress?” Miss Elizabeth looked down.

  Darcy followed her gaze to take in a hem dampened several inches and kissed with mud.

  “I daresay it’s still rather wet without,” Miss Elizabeth said. “I came across the fields.”

  “Oh foot?” Miss Bingley asked, tone shocked.

  “Alone?” Mrs. Hurst added, expression aghast.

  “It’s not a long walk,” Miss Elizabeth assured her. “Miss Lucas and I regularly walk the long way to Oakham Mount and back, which is nearly twice as far.”

  “Mayhap it’s not far for a country miss,” Mrs. Hurst said, her tone implying censure.

  “I walk a great deal at Pemberley,” Georgiana said. Though quiet, her words were clear. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst clamped their mouths closed.

  “Do you require anything, Miss Elizabeth?” Richard asked.

  A slight snore sounded from Mr. Hurst’s sofa, where he dozed with the paper open, draped across his chest.

  “No, thank you, Mr. Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth replied, expression warming as she turned to him. “I should like to see Jane, if I may?”

  “I’ll ring for a maid,” Miss Bingley said.

  “I’ll show Miss Elizabeth the way,” Georgiana said, standing.

  Darcy turned to his sister, surprised.

  “I require my shawl,” Georgiana continued.

  “A maid can get it,” Miss Bingley said with a frown, but Georgiana was already crossing the room.

  Darcy watched, bemused, as his sister gestured for Miss Elizabeth to join her. Miss Elizabeth offered a second curtsy, gaze glossing over Darcy as she scanned the room, and led the way back into the hall. Even with a damp, muddy hem, she walked straight backed and with a slight, smooth sway of her hips.

  Darcy retook his seat, a touch put out at her lack of any acknowledgement toward him. He didn’t know what he expected, as their longest interaction thus far was his insult and subsequent offer to dance, but she acted as if he bore no more consequence than the sofa on which he sat. When she returned, perhaps he would engage her in conversation. In the few weeks they’d spent in Hertfordshire thus far, he’d watched her speak with Richard often enough to know conversing with Miss Elizabeth would offer a certain amount of diversion.

  He need only wait a quarter hour. Miss Elizabeth would reappear momentarily, a declaration of Miss Bennet’s continued repose on her lips. With a house full of eligible men, Miss Elizabeth couldn’t mean to spend much time with her sister. As was always the case with the fairer sex, her real goal must be matrimony.

  Time ticked by on the mantle clock. Georgiana, not wearing a shawl, reappeared and took back up her needle and thread. Darcy made to focus on his book but, somehow, his gaze kept drifting to the doorway. Every moment, he expected Miss Elizabeth to reappear. The more he thought on her, the more convinced he became that her frank conversation would be a welcome change from Georgiana’s silence and Miss Bingley’s and Mrs. Hurst’s not-so-subtle guile.

  The time for luncheon arrived, still with no sign of their guest. When sent an invitation to join them, Miss Elizabeth refused. Finally, nearly an hour after they’d dined, she reappeared in the parlor doorway. Along with the other gentlemen, Darcy stood, but her focus was on Miss Bingley, who composed a letter at the writing desk.

  Miss Elizabeth crossed the parlor to her side. “Miss Bingley, I apologize for interrupting.”

  “Your sister is ready to return to Longbourn?” Miss Bingley asked, looking up from her page.

  “Quite the opposite,” Miss Elizabeth replied. “I’m very concerned
for her. I shouldn’t like to move her. Is there any word on when the doctor will arrive?”

  “He should be here,” Bingley said with a frown. “I’ll discover what’s delayed him.” He nodded to Miss Elizabeth and hurried from the room.

  Miss Bingley glanced about, taking in the eyes on her and Miss Elizabeth. “So, you wish to depart? I’m sure Charles would loan you the use of his carriage to take you home.”

  Miss Elizabeth shook her head. “Jane is very ill. I should like to remain to tend her. It is for that I’ve come to you. Would my addition be too much of an imposition?”

  Miss Bingley looked about again. She met her sister’s eyes. Mrs. Hurst offered a slight shake of her head. Miss Bingley opened her mouth to speak. Oddly, it perturbed Darcy to realize she would decline Miss Elizabeth’s request.

  “I’m certain Bingley would wish you to remain to tend Miss Bennet,” Richard said. “Who better to nurse her back to health than her dear sister?”

  “Well, yes,” Miss Bingley said flatly. “We can ask him, to be sure.”

  “Bingley is all amiability,” Richard said. “He’s certain to agree.”

  “Agree to what?” Bingley said, striding back into the room. “I’ve sent several footmen after the doctor. He’ll come this time or have a very fine reason for not.”

  “Miss Elizabeth wishes to remain to tend her sister,” Richard said.

  “Yes, you must. I insist on it,” came Bingley’s predictable reply. “I’ll send someone to advise your father and request a case be packed for you.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Bingley.” Elizabeth dipped her head to him. “And you, Miss Bingley, for your hospitality.” To this, she added a conspiratorial smile, aimed at Richard.

  Richard returned the look, much to Darcy’s irritation. Why must Richard flirt with every woman he met? He didn’t even seem to care if they were comely, which Miss Elizabeth was. He must win over them all. With Bingley always snatching up the prettiest, and Richard the most enjoyable, was it any wonder Darcy held himself aloof?

  “If you’ll excuse me, I must return to Jane,” Miss Elizabeth said. With another beguiling retreat, she disappeared.