A Duel in Meryton

by Renata McMann

  Lydia popped a piece of bread into her mouth, then spoke around it. “Besides, Mr. Wickham said he respected Mr. Darcy’s father so much that he didn’t want to bring shame on the man’s son.”

  “Don’t talk with your mouth full, dear,” Mrs. Bennet said.

  Lydia swallowed. “I think Mr. Darcy deserves shame.”

  “Oh, Mr. Wickham also said that Miss Darcy is terribly stuck up, like her brother,” Kitty added.

  Elizabeth frowned at that.

  Jane shook her head. “I didn’t find Miss Darcy stuck up.”

  “You don’t find Mr. Bingley’s sisters stuck up, either,” Lydia said, as if that proved Jane’s judgment was unreliable.

  Mary eyed Jane speculatively. “I didn’t have the chance to speak with Miss Darcy at the assembly, but she danced with everyone who asked, regardless of station.”

  “I hear Sir Williams’ eldest is quite taken with her,” Mrs. Bennet said.

  “Well, Mr. Wickham said she’s awful,” Lydia said. She turned toward where Elizabeth and Jane sat side by side. “I bet you had a dreadful time at Netherfield Park. Between Miss Darcy, Miss Bingley, and Mrs. Hurst, you had to deal with three women whose noses are so high in the air, you would think something important was written on the ceiling.”

  Kitty giggled.

  “It’s not wrong for people of standing to act as befits their station,” Mr. Collins said.

  Kitty’s mirth vanished as she flushed.

  “I’m sure Miss Darcy is horrible,” Lydia declared.

  “When she was not with her brother, she seeme—” A knock on the door interrupted Elizabeth’s defense of Miss Darcy.

  “Who is calling at this hour?” Mrs. Bennet asked. “It must be Lady Lucas with gossip about the Phillips’ party.”

  With great interest, they all turned toward the door. Miss Darcy was ushered into the breakfast parlor. Elizabeth stared at her, surprised. She wondered which Miss Darcy had come to call; the cheerful one who walked with Elizabeth and spent time with her and Jane, or the sullen one who haunted the parlors of Netherfield. Elizabeth hadn’t yet dared ask for the reason behind Miss Darcy’s dual personality, worried the answer would only further prejudice her against Mr. Darcy, whose presence they must all endure for the duration of his time in Hertfordshire.

  Miss Darcy met their curious gazes with a smile. “Good, you’re still eating,” she said, moving toward a vacant chair. “May I have a roll? I skipped breakfast to come here. I left a note. I wanted so much to visit you again, but no one has been willing to come with me. So, this morning, I gave up asking and walked over.”

  “Yes, certainly,” Elizabeth said when no one else replied, her question answered. This was the talkative Miss Darcy.

  If Miss Darcy noticed the others were too stunned by her appearance to speak, she gave no indication. She yanked out the chair before a footman could come forward to help her and perched on the edge of the seat. “May I have more than a roll? It was a longer walk than I supposed. I’m famished.”

  “You may have whatever you like,” Elizabeth said. “It’s pleasant to see you again so soon, Miss Darcy. Have you met my mother and younger sisters?”

  A footman set a plate before Miss Darcy. She reached for a roll from the basket on the table. “I saw you all at that assembly, when we first arrived, but I do not believe we were introduced.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “Miss Darcy, my mother, Mrs. Bennet. My sisters, Mary, Kitty and Lydia, and this is our cousin, Mr. Collins.”

  “He’s a clergyman,” Kitty added.

  “Mother, Mr. Collins, Mary, Kitty, Lydia, this is Miss Darcy,” Elizabeth finished.

  “It’s very nice to meet you all,” Miss Darcy said. “Thank you for letting me intrude on your breakfast. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “You aren’t interrupting,” Jane said.

  “We were talking about the officers stationed in Meryton,” Lydia added.

  “I’ve seen them about,” Miss Darcy said. “They’re so handsome in their uniforms.” She rolled her eyes. “My brother tries to keep me from socializing with them, even though my cousin, Mr. Fitzwilliam, was an officer.”

  “He was?” Lydia asked.

  “Oh yes. A colonel.”

  “Why ever did he give it up?” Mrs. Bennet asked. “He’s not yet wed. Women love an officer.”

  Miss Darcy shrugged. “I’m not sure. Maybe to better run the estate my aunt left to him.”

  Mrs. Bennet’s eyes brightened. “I’d heard something about an estate. Is that true? Mr. Fitzwilliam has an estate?”

  Miss Darcy nodded. “It’s in some sort of straits, though. I’ve heard him and my brother speaking of it.”

  “Oh.” Mrs. Bennet grimaced. “Well, he best not be looking here for a dowry to help set things right. My girls are not to be squandered on a man with pockets to let.”

  Elizabeth turned her laugh into a cough. She or her sisters would be fortunate to attract Mr. Fitzwilliam. A kind, affable, intelligent man with any sort of estate would be a catch for any of them. Most any gentleman would be, for they’d a dearth of prospects in Hertfordshire.

  “I don’t think it can be all that bad,” Miss Darcy said. “My aunt’s estate is quite grand. I don’t believe my cousin is in the market for a wife, though. But if he were, I should love him to choose one of you. If you’re all like Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth, I should be overjoyed to have any one of you as a cousin.”

  “Of course, you would,” Mrs. Bennet said, preening.

  Elizabeth realized Miss Darcy had no notion how small their dowries were. If Mr. Fitzwilliam were in need of funds, he should look to the likes of Miss Bingley, who’d hung on his every word when Elizabeth was at Netherfield, not to Elizabeth and her sisters, who possessed little in the way of dowries or connections.

  Miss Darcy waved a footman over and requested tea and a plate of food from the sideboard, then looked about the table with bright eyes. “It’s so much nicer here. Miss Bingley makes it so stuffy at Netherfield.”

  Elizabeth raised her eyebrows, finding Miss Darcy’s statement a touch rude, even if it happened to be true.

  “Miss Bingley makes everywhere she goes stuffy,” Lydia said.

  “I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting the lady,” Mr. Collins said, tone one of mild censure.

  “If you had, you wouldn’t refer to it as a pleasure,” Miss Darcy replied on a laugh.

  Lydia giggled. Kitty glanced at Mr. Collins’ disapproving expression and crushed her napkin to her lips. Her eyes danced.

  Bemusement stole through Elizabeth. When she and Jane had interacted with Miss Darcy at Netherfield Park, she’d been ladylike. At Longbourn, she seemed more relaxed, and bubbled with a silliness that approached Kitty and Lydia’s. For the first time, it occurred to Elizabeth that Miss Darcy must be about Lydia’s age. She’d seemed much more grown up at Netherfield, under the shadow of Mr. Darcy.

  “You said I interrupted a conversation about redcoats?” Miss Darcy prompted.

  Lydia regarded Miss Darcy, eyes bright with curiosity. “You know one of them. Mr. Wickham. He said he was raised with your brother.”

  Miss Darcy nodded. “He was. They were like brothers, only the same age. Not twins. They were very different.”

  “You mean, Mr. Wickham is charming, and your brother is not,” Lydia said.

  That was too unkind even for Lydia, Elizabeth thought. She opened her mouth to protest Lydia’s statement.

  Miss Darcy burst out laughing. “Mr. Wickham is very charming, but he lies, he loses at cards, and he doesn’t pay his debts. His mother, his father, my father and my brother each, at least once that I know of, paid Mr. Wickham’s debts.”

  “All of them?” Jane asked, sounding surprised.

  “If he’s that unrepentant, why would they keep paying for him?” Mary asked, frowning.

  Miss Darcy shrugged. “I don’t think any of them knew he’d gone to any of the others. They each thought it was the only time he n
eeded help.”

  “Then how do you come to know?” Mrs. Bennet asked.

  “I pieced things together after he left.” Miss Darcy’s smile held smugness. “I knew about my father and my brother paying Mr. Wickham’s debts. My brother thought he was sparing our father from discovering his favorite’s flaws. I can only assume my father thought Wickham had learned his lesson and saw no reason to involve my brother.” She grimaced. “My brother can be rather unforgiving.”

  “Did your father and brother tell you that?” Kitty asked, eyes wide.

  Miss Darcy offered another shrug. “No, but I see and hear a lot more than they give me credit for.”

  “Eavesdropping in a sin,” Mary said primly.

  “Not directly so,” Mr. Collins said.

  “Also take no heed unto all words that are spoken; lest thou hear thy servant curse thee,” Mary countered.

  “That’s right,” Miss Darcy said to Mary, then shrugged. “They knew I was there but didn’t think I could hear them when I played the pianoforte.”

  Mr. Collins looked back and forth between then, then opened his mouth to speak.

  Lydia screwed up her face. “How do you know Mr. Wickham’s parents paid his debts?” she asked, loudly, cutting off Mr. Collins.

  “A girl who worked in the Wickham household became my maid,” Miss Darcy said. “She knew all about his parents bailing him out.”

  Kitty looked from a frowning Mr. Collins to Miss Darcy. “So, it’s true?”

  “But he is so charming,” Lydia protested. “And so gentlemanly, and so handsome.”

  “Oh, he is,” Miss Darcy said. “I once spent weeks with him turning his charm on me.”

  “When was that?” Lydia asked. “And why did he stop?”

  Elizabeth tried to catch Miss Darcy’s gaze. She willed Miss Darcy not to answer. Elizabeth knew not where the tale headed but felt it couldn’t be anywhere appropriate. All about the table, Elizabeth’s mother and sisters watched Miss Darcy with wide eyes.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Not that long ago, and he wouldn’t have stopped,” Miss Darcy replied. “He was after my dowry, and rather determined.”

  “Really?” Lydia asked, eyes alight with interest.

  “Yes,” Miss Darcy said.

  Elizabeth redoubled her prayers that their guest might revert into her more silent self.

  “How did that happen?” Mrs. Bennet asked at the same time as Kitty blurted, “How did you know?”

  Miss Darcy looked about the table, expression thoughtful. “It started when I left school. My brother decided I needed a governess. He hired a woman named Mrs. Younge to chaperone me and oversee the continuation of my education. She took me to all the masters he hired, but she wasn’t very strict. I think she wanted me to like her.”

  “Did you?” Jane asked.

  Miss Darcy shook her head. “Not really.”

  “What has she to do with Mr. Wickham?” Mrs. Bennet asked eagerly.

  Elizabeth’s leeriness grew. Miss Darcy shouldn’t be so open. She knew Elizabeth and Jane. Undoubtedly, she judged the remainder of their family based on her interactions with the two of them. Miss Darcy couldn’t know it didn’t do to tell their mother and sisters anything. Especially not anything private. As for Mr. Collins, who still frowned, Elizabeth had no idea if he could keep a secret. Not that it would matter. Her mother and youngest two sisters could not.

  “I’m getting to Mr. Wickham,” Miss Darcy said. “You see, Mrs. Younge told my brother I needed a holiday, because I was studying too hard. Only, I wasn’t. I was doing much less than I had in school.”

  “And you got a holiday?” Lydia asked.

  “Yes. In a way.” Miss Darcy’s expression clouded. “We went to Ramsgate. Suddenly, Mrs. Younge became very strict. I wasn’t permitted to see anyone but her and the servants. We would take walks and speak only in French or Italian. I had to describe the ocean or the houses or the people in whichever language we were using that day. Then we met Mr. Wickham, supposedly by chance. Mrs. Younge permitted me to spend as much time with him as I wanted. She didn’t chaperone us, even when we went on walks that lasted for hours. I’m certain Mr. Wickham orchestrated the entire thing.”

  “What was he trying to do?” Mr. Collins asked, frown deepening.

  “Marry me, of course.”

  The frank way she said it took Elizabeth aback, for the situation sounded horrifying. Looking at how young Miss Darcy was, she couldn’t have been more than fifteen, if that, when her tale took place. Far from charming, Mr. Wickham sounded like a monster.

  “But he couldn’t marry you without the permission of your guardian,” Mr. Collins said.

  “Guardians,” Miss Darcy corrected. “Mr. Fitzwilliam is also my guardian, along with my brother. That wouldn’t have stopped Wickham, though. He wanted me to elope with him to Scotland.”

  “Oh dear,” Jane breathed.

  Lydia listened with avid interest. “Did you want to run away with him?”

  “Not one bit.” Miss Darcy grimaced.

  “But it would be so romantic,” Lydia protested.

  “I think Mrs. Younge hoped I would believe so,” Miss Darcy said. “She kept having me translate French and Italian works. Ones that idealized true love. I believe she thought she was being subtle.”

  “Did you fall in love with Mr. Wickham?” Kitty asked Miss Darcy. “It wouldn’t be so bad to marry him if you loved him.”

  “Until the money ran out,” Miss Darcy said, with a wryness that belied her youth.

  “Why do you think the money would run out?” Mary asked.

  “I’ve seen how quickly Mr. Wickham can squander three thousand pounds. I doubt it would take him much longer to spend ten.”

  “How did he get three thousand pounds?” Elizabeth asked, despite her desire for Miss Darcy to halt her tale. Three thousand pounds was a considerable sum, to have or to spend.

  Miss Darcy turned to Elizabeth. “Mr. Wickham asked my brother to give him three thousand pounds to compensate him for a living he was supposed to receive. It was in my father’s will. A dying wish, but Mr. Wickham said he would rather have the money than be a clergyman. Then he spent most of it.”

  “How would you come to know that?” Mrs. Bennet asked.

  “He admitted it to me.” Miss Darcy took a bite of toast and chewed. They all sat silent, waiting for her to continue. “He claimed to still have a thousand pounds left, invested to give him fifty pounds a year, but I’m not sure he told the truth. He wasn’t happy that I knew about his selling his right to the living.”

  “Still, if you loved him, you would have been happy,” Kitty said.

  “It would still be wrong to elope,” Mr. Collins said.

  “And how would you have lived?” Mary added.

  “Mr. Darcy gave Mr. Wickham money before,” Lydia said. “With them married, he’d surely have given you more.” She turned to Miss Darcy. “Wouldn’t he?”

  Miss Darcy nodded. “My brother would see we didn’t starve, but he wouldn’t send us money, because Mr. Wickham would spend it on himself, not me or any children we had. Mr. Wickham is very selfish. That’s why I knew I couldn’t love him.”

  Mrs. Bennet nodded her approval. “No woman should settle for a selfish man. It brings only sorrow.”

  “But what happened then?” Kitty asked. “You were with him, and he wanted you to go to Scotland, and it doesn’t sound as if your governess would prevent that.”

  Miss Darcy took a sip of tea. “I wrote my brother to tell him that Mr. Wickham was with us, because I knew he wouldn’t approve, but I am pretty certain the letter wasn’t sent.”

  Jane and Mary gasped. Mrs. Bennet looked confused.

  “Do you mean, your governess took the letter?” Mr. Collins asked, tone affronted.

  Miss Darcy nodded again. “I’m certain she did, because my brother never replied.”

  “That’s villainous,” Jane said.

  “I suppose it is,” Miss Darcy agreed.<
br />
  “If you couldn’t write, and you couldn’t see anyone, what did you do?” Kitty asked.

  Miss Darcy’s eyes sparkled. Elizabeth realized she was enjoying telling her tale. To how many others had she confessed the story? Her brother and Mr. Fitzwilliam knew, surely.

  “Normally, I wrote weekly,” Miss Darcy said. “So, the following week, I made sure Mr. Wickham’s name was mentioned on every sheet of my letter. I thought Mrs. Young would have to send at least one page. If my brother didn’t hear from me for too long, he would worry.”

  “Did she send it?” Mary asked, finally appearing caught up in the tale.

  Miss Darcy shook her head. “She told me that I had given enough information about Mr. Wickham in my previous letter and should rewrite that one without mentioning him.”

  “So, she had read the first one,” Elizabeth observed.

  “For shame,” Mrs. Bennet said.

  “It was her duty, as governess,” Mary observed, but without her usual censure.

  “She had no right to come between you and your guardian,” Mr. Collins said.

  “Did you rewrite it?” Lydia asked.

  “I did not,” Miss Darcy said. “And Mrs. Younge sent me to bed without supper when I refused. After thinking about it, and feeling quite hungry, I stayed up very late and wrote a long letter using all the descriptions she made me give her in Italian and French. My brother doesn’t know Italian, but he speaks passable French. I wrote the French ones in French, using the excuse that Mrs. Younge wanted me to practice my French. I believe I made many mistakes, but I didn’t care.”

  “If you wrote the Italian ones in Italian, I’ll bet Mr. Darcy would guess something was wrong,” Elizabeth said, trying to guess Miss Darcy’s plan.

  “He would have,” Miss Darcy agreed. “But Mrs. Younge knew he doesn’t speak Italian.”

  “So, you wrote them in English?” Jane asked, frowning.

  “The idea was to write so much, it would take a very long time to read it all,” Miss Darcy said. “In the middle of a long paragraph describing the ocean, I wrote, ‘I am happy here.’ I deliberately left a space between ‘am’ and ‘happy.’ Not a large space. Only enough so that I could write ‘un’ connected to happy. I also made sure the letter had other places where the spacing was erratic.”