A Duel in Meryton

by Renata McMann

  “…uppose you think now you’ll get to spend the night, since you walked Miss Darcy home?” Miss Bingley’s voice held rancor.

  “No, thank you,” Elizabeth said pleasantly. She glanced up, expression touched with amusement, as Darcy neared the bottom step.

  Wrenching his gaze from Elizabeth and her bright eyes, Darcy reached the foyer and turned to his sister. “Where have you been?” he asked, unable to keep a note of anger from his voice.

  “At Longbourn,” Georgiana said cheerfully. “Miss Elizabeth insisted on walking me home.” She turned to Elizabeth. “You ought to stay a while. You must rest a bit and, if my brother’s coat is any indication, it’s time for luncheon.” Georgiana cast a look toward Miss Bingley.

  Silence filled the foyer. Miss Bingley frowned. She glanced about, as if seeking aid. “Yes, you must stay,” she finally said, tone flat. “You walked Miss Darcy home. A half hour would be appropriate.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “Thank you, but no. I should get back. I’ve been away from home too much of late and there are matters to which I must attend.”

  “At least let us send for a carriage,” Georgiana said. “To save you time.”

  “I will walk Miss Elizabeth back,” Darcy snapped. He leveled a look on his sister meant to inform her that he would speak with her later. First, he would deal with Elizabeth.

  “How gracious of you,” Elizabeth said. Far from appearing daunted by his obvious displeasure, she still looked amused.

  “I’m sure Charles will lend his carriage if yours is unavailable,” Miss Bingley said, gaze going from him to Elizabeth and back again. “You needn’t miss luncheon, Mr. Darcy.”

  “I will walk Miss Elizabeth back,” Darcy repeated. With a glare that dared Elizabeth to refuse, he proffered his arm.

  She raised her eyebrows but nodded. “Thank you for a lovely visit, Miss Darcy, and a convivial walk.”

  “You are welcome, Miss Elizabeth,” Georgiana said, tone equally light.

  Darcy had no notion what his sister and Elizabeth found so humorous. Nor did he care. He proffered his arm again.

  Elizabeth placed a long-fingered hand atop his sleeve. “Miss Bingley, please give my regards to your family.”

  Miss Bigley offered a stiff nod.

  Darcy paused to give Miss Bingley time to return the courtesy, but her mouth remained clamped closed. He turned Elizabeth back toward the door. The butler, Andrews, stepped forward from where he’d stood unobtrusively against the wall and swung the door open to reveal a day that would have been lovely were Darcy in a less foul mood.

  He marched Elizabeth down the steps and out into the drive. “Why did you not send a note telling me where Georgiana was?” he asked as gravel crunched beneath their feet. Belatedly, he realized the door behind them had not yet closed. Likely, Miss Bingley, Georgiana and any nearby staff had heard him.

  Elizabeth cast him one of her mirthful looks. She said nothing. A moment later, they could hear Netherfield’s front door shut.

  “If you were to knock on our door, unlikely as that is, should we send a note to Mr. Bingley informing him of your whereabouts?” Elizabeth asked.

  “I am a grown man,” Darcy snapped, then winced. He sounded a bit like a sullen boy. “Georgiana is not yet of age,” he added in a more reasonable tone.

  “If Miss Bingley calls, shall we send a note to her brother? She is not yet of age.” Elizabeth affected a startled expression. “Oh dear, I am not of age either. Do you wish to return to Netherfield and compose a note to my father? You could have someone ride over with it while we walk.”

  Darcy fixed his gaze on the end of the drive, still some ways off, and struggled to stave off additional petulant comments. Elizabeth made a fair point. Still, she and Miss Bingley were nearly of age. Georgiana was but fifteen.

  “Our duty was to see to her safety while she was at Longbourn,” Elizabeth said gently.

  “A duty you exceeded when you walked her home.”

  She cast him a startled look, glimpsed from the corner of his eye.

  Darcy drew in a long breath. “I apologize. I overreacted. I was worried.”

  “It was reasonable for you to worry,” she said. “I had no notion you didn’t know where she was, or I truly would have sent word.”

  “She left a note saying when she would return but not where she had gone,” he said, struggling to keep his anger from rekindling. “As she left it on her bed and sent no word she was going out, I didn’t find it until I discovered she was missing and started to search.”

  Elizabeth shook her head, sending dark curls swishing. “She said she left a note. It didn’t occur to me she would place it out of the way and not include where she was headed.” She cast him a sidelong look. “It’s not my place to say, but would Miss Darcy benefit from another governess?”

  “She has one. Mrs. Annesley.”

  “And is not Mrs. Annesley meant to look after her?” Miss Elizabeth asked as they turned into the lane.

  “Miss Bingley suggested that Georgiana might benefit from some time without Mrs. Annesley to do her speaking for her.”

  Elizabeth chuckled. “You mean, Miss Bingley maneuvered to deprive your sister of any female companionship, thus forcing Miss Darcy to spend time with her and Mrs. Hurst.”

  “That was likely her goal, yes,” he admitted. “As Mrs. Annesley has been Georgiana’s only companion, and it is my wish for Georgiana to recover some of her former talkative behavior, I agreed to Miss Bingley’s unsubtle machinations. Mrs. Annesley also had a family matter to attend to, so leaving her in London seemed the best course for all.” Darcy suppressed a sigh. All he’d accomplished was even greater silence from his sister, who bore Bingley’s sisters a dislike. He also realized he’d revealed Georgiana had a problem, by his use of the word former. He glanced at Elizabeth askance again, wondering if she’d noticed his slip, and how he came to be so unguarded with her.

  Not that Elizabeth’s perception of Georgiana mattered, for they should likely leave Hertfordshire. Now that Mr. Wickham was in town, Georgiana would be isolated further. Darcy couldn’t risk an encounter between the two. “Perhaps we should return to London. Or Pemberley.”

  “Pemberley? Your home? Are there young ladies Miss Darcy’s age with whom she may socialize?”

  As the answer was no, Darcy ignored the question.

  Elizabeth stopped, forcing him to do likewise. She released his arm to face him. “Please don’t further seclude her. You’ve isolated her enough since the incident with Mr. Wickham.”

  Darcy took a half step back, stunned. “What do you know about the incident with Mr. Wickham?” Anger shot through him. “Earlier, you said another governess. Not a governess, but another. What did she tell you?”

  “Given her frankness this morning, I suspect I know all there is to tell, which is more than you do.”

  He scowled. “Don’t be absurd.” Dread snaked through him. Had his sister been irreversibly compromised? Would she admit such a thing to Elizabeth when she hadn’t told Richard or him? Had she told Richard and the two conspired to keep it from Darcy, so now he must learn it from a veritable stranger? “I know what happened,” he added, but his voice lacked conviction.

  Those delicate eyebrows rose again, but no amusement shone in Elizabeth’s gaze. “Do you? You know, then, that your sister never intended to elope with Mr. Wickham? She only told you that so that you would remove her immediately.”

  Darcy shook his head. “It is impossible she would lie about such a thing.”

  “Even if I inform you that he’d plagued her for weeks, that she’d been deprived of food and rest, and that she was desperate to get away from there and feared you would launch an inquiry into the staff rather than remove her?”

  Darcy rocked back on his heels. He had wished to do exactly that but had decided removing Georgiana from the temptation of Wickham was more paramount. “What did she tell you?” he asked.

  Elizabeth gestured that they should resume walk
ing. Darcy offered his arm. As they headed down the lane, Elizabeth gave him a concise, yet nuanced, description of what had befallen Georgiana in Ramsgate. By the end of her recounting, Darcy’s relief held a sharp edge. If anything, Elizabeth’s revelations made the incident less significant than before.

  “She is very ashamed she lied to you,” Elizabeth said after finishing her tale. “On the walk over, she told me that when your good opinion is lost, it is lost forever. I persuaded her that she should confess, but she said she couldn’t face you. She asked me to tell you first, hoping, I think, to avoid your immediate anger. I hope you will forgive her, but even if you don’t, it is best to get things out in the open. She feels very guilty about the lie and to compensate, she’s been trying to act in the way they taught her to behave at school. Quiet. Speaking only when spoken to.”

  So, it was him and Richard, all along. Georgiana was not speaking when in their presence, specifically. No wonder she preferred the company of the Bennet sisters, where she could talk.

  “Of course, I forgive her,” Darcy said. “I don’t understand why she thinks a lie is more significant than agreeing to elope with a fortune hunter. She would have been miserable if she’d married Mr. Wickham.”

  “Did you ever tell her not to lie?” Elizabeth glanced at him, amusement blooming to life in her eyes once more. “Did you, perchance, rail against lying?”

  “Yes,” he admitted.

  “More than once?”

  “Yes,” he replied slowly. “Rather often.”

  “Did you ever tell her not to elope?”

  “No. Nor did I tell her not to steal or commit murder. She should have known.”

  “She knew it was wrong,” Elizabeth said. “She simply didn’t think it was your priority. The eloping, I mean. She did mention that she felt admitting a plan to elope wouldn’t upset you, whereas she realized actually eloping would, which is why she could never do such a thing.”

  “Even pretending she would wed Wickham is worse than a lie,” Darcy declared, ignoring the contradiction inherent in that statement. He didn’t look, but he could practically feel Elizabeth’s supplication for patience. “She should simply have told me she wished to leave immediately.”

  “What would you have done if the possibility existed that Mrs. Younge was duped? How long would you have stayed and questioned Miss Darcy, Mrs. Younge and the other staff if the only thing that had happened was that Mr. Wickham had suggested an elopement?”

  “I do not know,” he admitted.

  “Considering the stress Miss Darcy had been under for weeks, even half an hour was too much more to endure. Possibly, Mrs. Younge had no chance of retaining her job, but if her only error was to allow Mr. Wickham, a man who was brought up almost as your brother, to spend time with Miss Darcy, you would want to know. Had you given explicit instructions to keep Mr. Wickham away?”

  “I had not,” Darcy admitted. “It never occurred to me I needed to do so.”

  “It is easy to take things for granted,” Elizabeth said.

  She was right, he realized as they rounded a twist in the lane. “I took for granted that Georgiana would be able to get in touch with me if necessary. It never occurred to me that she wouldn’t be free to write what she wished.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “How could it?” She glanced at him, expression worried.

  His brows drew together. “Something is troubling you?” Beyond what they’d discussed?

  “You should know, Miss Darcy repeated much of what I told you, the entirety of the incident in Ramsgate up until your arrival, to my mother and sisters. I could not stop her.”

  A pit opened in Darcy’s gut. True, Georgiana had done nothing wrong, but there would still be rumors. They would be distorted. People would think the worst.

  “It’s years before she officially comes out,” Elizabeth said, tone gentle. “This may be a good thing. The rumors will pass now, when they can do less harm.”

  He shook his head. What had Georgiana done? Wickham would hear. He would surely go about telling a false version. Between Darcy and Richard, they could do much to counter the ill will the story would bring, but they couldn’t erase the tale from society. Exactly how much would Georgiana’s prospects suffer?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Darcy mulled over his sister’s prospects as Longbourn came into sight in the distance. Elizabeth, hand resting lightly on his arm, did not intrude on his silence. He continued to dwell on what Georgiana had done as he and Elizabeth finally turned up the drive toward the manor.

  “In keeping with the standards of Miss Bingley, I invite you in,” Elizabeth said as they walked up the drive, tone forcedly light. “She stipulated that a half hour is appropriate for walking a person home.” Elizabeth cast him a quick glance. “Not that I shall attempt to persuade you to comply against your wishes.”

  Darcy forced a smile. Elizabeth had been nothing but convivial on their walk, and supportive. For once, she’d conversed with him normally, as he’d observed her do with Richard. Despite their uncomfortable topic, talking with her proved every bit as enjoyable as Darcy had anticipated.

  He required a mind like hers to help him deal with Georgiana. His sister had become too complicated of late. She was no longer a young girl who skipped about Pemberley and played on the pianoforte all afternoon. Perhaps, if he encouraged Georgiana to spend more time with Elizabeth… But no, there were still her mother and younger sisters to think about.

  Would their influence truly be so awful?

  “I would not want to give Miss Bingley cause to think me derelict in my social duties,” Darcy said as they neared the front door to Longbourn. If nothing else, a visit would remind him of why Elizabeth Bennet was not an acceptable companion for Georgiana…or for him.

  As if to reinforce his thoughts, the youngest Bennet sister, Miss Lydia, came flying from the house. She ran toward them, then skidded to a stop before Elizabeth, halting their progress. The slightest blush touched Elizabeth’s cheeks as she cast Darcy another sideling look. It gratified him to realize she, too, didn’t approve of Miss Lydia’s behavior.

  “Lizzy, you will never guess what has happened,” Miss Lydia gasped out as she tried to catch her breath.

  “Is Papa well?”

  Darcy cast Elizabeth a sharp glance. Real concern filled her voice. Was Mr. Bennet ill?

  “I don’t know, but Mama visited him and decided he is dying and she said one of us has to marry Mr. Collins immediately so he won’t throw us all out, but she told him he can’t have Jane because she is for Mr. Bingley, and I said right away that I wouldn’t marry him, because he’s not an officer. Mama said he surely won’t take Mary with her looks, so that leaves Kitty or you.”

  The blush in Elizabeth’s cheeks deepened during Miss Lydia’s babbled reply. Elizabeth held up a hand. “Lydia, slower, please, and keep in mind that we have a guest.”

  Miss Lydia glanced at Darcy. “Hello, Mr. Darcy,” she said. He offered a nod, but she was already turning back to Elizabeth. “Mama suggested you because Kitty coughs, but before Mr. Collins could answer there was a knock at the door, and you’ll never guess who showed up, but Mr. Wickham, who I still say is too handsome to be as awful as Miss Darcy says, meaning no offense, Mr. Darcy. Mr. Wickham was with Mr. Denny and Mr. Pratt, so we had to invite them all in.”

  Darcy didn’t know which was worse, knowing Wickham had been at the Bennet’s, his visit nearly overlapping with Georgiana’s, or the idea of Elizabeth wedding this Mr. Collins fellow. Darcy hadn’t met Collins, but he’d heard the man was the Bennets’ cousin and a fool. Despite her undesirable connections and lack of a dowry, Elizabeth warranted better than a fool.

  “I trust the subject of marriage was dropped,” Elizabeth said, sounding hopeful.

  “Yes, but Mr. Collins got all preachery.”

  Darcy didn’t believe preachery to be a word, but he doubted Miss Lydia cared.

  “What do you mean?” Elizabeth asked. A light breeze stirred the small curls about
her face.

  Miss Lydia grinned. “In a booming voice, like he was preaching in a large church, he denounced Mr. Wickham.”

  “Denounced Mr. Wickham?” Mr. Darcy repeated with a sinking feeling. Had Collins heard his sister’s tale, too? A champion would only exacerbate the rumors. “For what?”

  “For not showing proper respect for his patron,” Miss Lydia said. “That’s your father, Mr. Darcy. Mr. Collins went on and on, practically yelling. He said Mr. Wickham had shown a terrible disrespect to old Mr. Darcy by betraying the trust of Miss Darcy and you, Mr. Darcy, and that mistreating one’s patron is a terrible crime against propriety.”

  Darcy grimaced.

  Elizabeth shot him a look brimming with sympathy. “Did Mr. Collins elaborate?” she asked, tone somewhat pleading.

  With a glance up at the bright blue sky, Darcy prayed, silently, that Collins had not.

  Miss Lydia nodded. “Mr. Collins said that Mr. Wickham shouldn’t have tried to persuade Miss Darcy to elope with him. Mr. Collins said that to even ponder marriage to her was improper of Mr. Wickham, since she is so above him in class.”

  Darcy winced. Apparently, his prayers came too late.

  Elizabeth let out a sigh. “I see.”

  “Then, Mr. Collins said Mr. Wickham shouldn’t have lied about Mr. Darcy denying him that living,” Miss Lydia continued.

  “He said what?” Darcy cut in. “Wickham has been putting out that I denied him the living my father left him?” Fresh anger at Wickham warred with Darcy’s concern for his sister’s future. “I paid him for that living, which was his idea.”

  Miss Lydia nodded as a gust of wind swirled the ladies’ hems. “Miss Darcy already told us that.”

  “Georgiana knew?” Darcy asked. How had his sister found out?