“She told us this morning,” Elizabeth said in a quiet voice. “She said he confessed as much to her in Ramsgate, after she asked him why he didn’t have the living.” She turned back to her sister. “Tell me there isn’t more?”
“Oh, but there is,” Miss Lydia said gleefully. “When Mr. Collins berated Mr. Wickham about the three thousand pounds, Mr. Wickham started yelling back. He said the living was worth more than three times that, and that Mr. Darcy told him he should take the money, because the incumbent was younger than Mr. Wickham, but that after he signed away his rights, he found out the incumbent was in his fifties.”
“Wickham knew the incumbent,” Darcy protested, though he suspected his denial was useless. From sad experience, Darcy knew that people were more likely to believe Wickham than him.
“Well, that’s your word against his,” Miss Lydia said with a shrug.
“Miss Darcy’s assertion that Mr. Wickham confessed about the living to her corroborates Mr. Darcy’s version,” Elizabeth put in quickly.
“That’s true,” Miss Lydia said reluctantly.
“You won’t be forced to challenge him, will you?” Elizabeth asked, turning a worried look on Darcy.
Darcy frowned. Should he? Georgiana’s tale was public now. Those who believed her would feel that Darcy should challenge Wickham. Those who did not would see her as even more guilty if he did.
“Mr. Darcy doesn’t have to,” Miss Lydia said, bouncing up on her toes and back down again on the dusty front drive. “This is the best part. Mr. Collins and Mr. Wickham were shouting back and forth, and Mr. Collins said that Mr. Wickham had tried to steal the virtue of the very woman who gratitude should have him protect. He went on and on, chest all puffed out, about how Mr. Wickham had wronged the whole Darcy family, whose interests he should have put above his own, and how low that made Mr. Wickham. Then Mr. Wickham challenged him to a duel. Isn’t it exciting, Lizzy? Only, Mama was in tears by then and she was screaming, too, and she says I can’t go watch.”
“Oh dear,” Elizabeth said. She turned to Darcy. “Challenging a clergyman?”
Darcy shook his head. “Wickham had no choice. With two fellow officers there, he had to admit to wrongdoing or issue a challenge.” And Wickham somehow never believed he was guilty of anything, no matter how many wrongs he committed.
“Still, to challenge a clergyman, especially one as inept as Mr. Collins,” Elizabeth repeated, expression worried.
“Mr. Wickham said if he was maligned by a clergyman, he could challenge that clergyman,” Miss Lydia said, eyes bright. “Mr. Denny is going to be his second. Mr. Wickham wanted to settle it immediately, but Papa came downstairs.”
“Papa?” Elizabeth broke in, expression brightening. She cast a glance toward the windows of the manor. “He was well enough to come down? That’s wonderful news. You should have begun with that, Lydia.”
Miss Lydia tossed her curls. “It’s only Papa. He seemed well enough to me. He was as grouchy as ever, at least. He said there was enough noise to wake the dead. He also said he would be Mr. Collins second, since Mr. Collins doesn’t have any friends in the neighborhood. Then Papa said that he would talk to Mr. Denny about the duel in a few days when he is feeling better and people have had a chance to calm down.”
“That seems sensible,” Darcy said, relieved. Perhaps both sides might be made to see reason and no duel would take place.
“Mr. Wickham, Mr. Denny, and Mr. Pratt wanted to stay and talk about it more, but Papa made them leave.” Sunlight bounced off Miss Lydia’s bright curls as she let out a huff of annoyance. “After they left, Mr. Collins started shaking,” she said with a tone of relish. “He said he is going to die, since he doesn’t know anything about swords. Papa suggested he withdraw his accusation, but Mr. Collins got mulish and said right was right, even if he had to die for it.”
“Really?” Elizabeth said, sounding impressed.
Miss Lydia gave a solemn nod. “Really.”
Darcy felt a stab of worry for this Mr. Collins, and a pang of annoyance. Darcy hadn’t even met the man, and Georgiana had spoken to him once, in company, so far as Darcy was able to determine. Now, Collins’ name would be tied to Georgiana’s, for better or for worse, and better seemed unlikely. Although their brief association would suggest to everyone that Collins’ challenge sprang from knowledge, not amour, most wouldn’t know the short length of their acquaintance. Rumor would abound.
Elizabeth turned to face him, expression grave. “I am so sorry about this.” She glanced toward the manor. “I should have remained here. Perhaps I could have prevented their heated exchange.”
“It stands in your favor that you escorted Georgiana home.” Darcy forced the words out, for in truth he now wished that Elizabeth had remained in Longbourn. “You couldn’t have known what would transpire.”
Miss Lydia popped up on her toes again. “Anyhow, they’ve all seen you, so you have to come in, but Papa said I could come tell you.”
“Papa?” Elizabeth repeated. “What of Mama?”
“She’s still crying. Papa sent her to her room.”
Elizabeth turned a worried look on Darcy. “Do you wish to come in, sir?”
“I believe it for the best.”
She nodded and, taking her sister by the arm, led the way. They entered to no greeting but turned immediately into a parlor. Inside sat Miss Kitty, a poorly proportioned man Darcy could only assume was Collins, and Mr. Bennet. He was shaved and dressed, meaning he had not risen from his bed to come downstairs, but he’d lost at least a stone of weight since Darcy had last seen him, and the loss didn’t suit him. His clothes were very loose. Miss Lydia hurried from Elizabeth’s side to take a seat beside Miss Kitty.
Mr. Bennet started to rise, but Darcy stuck his hand out as if to push him back into the chair and said, “Don’t get up.”
Mr. Bennet settled back into his chair. He offered a nod of greeting. “Mr. Darcy. I believe you know my daughters. May I present Mr. Collins.”
Darcy turned to the sallow-faced man, who stood and offered a bow. “Mr. Collins, forgive me for being forthright, but Miss Lydia informed us of what transpired. I cannot like a duel being fought over my sister.”
Mr. Collins wrung his hands together. “The duel isn’t about your sister. It is about Mr. Wickham’s bad character. He should never have tried to persuade the daughter of his patron to elope. She said she was fifteen at the time. That’s disgraceful.”
“Perhaps you can make that clear to everyone,” Elizabeth said. “I would hate to have Miss Darcy’s name come into this at all.”
Mr. Collins continued to twist his hands together, joints white. “I’m not certain what I can do. I don’t know what to say or what to do.” He held out his hands, which trembled, and issued an equally quavering laugh. “I’m shaking. I’m actually shaking in fear.” He twisted his hands together again. “Mr. Wickham asked me to choose my weapon.”
“And you chose swords,” Miss Kitty said in a breathy voice.
Elbow propped on a chair arm, Mr. Bennet rubbed at his temples.
“Swords?” Darcy repeated. Collins didn’t look like a swordsman. On the other hand, he was taller than Wickham and his longer reach would help.
Mr. Collins nodded. “I am inept with both sword and pistol, but if called to stand and face a man with a pistol, I would run away. I know that. With a sword, I will at least have the illusion that I might be able to defend myself, even if my mind knows I cannot.”
Miss Lydia whispered something to Miss Kitty, who appeared not to notice. She had wide, bright eyes turned on Mr. Collins. “I’m certain you can win. You are in the right, Mr. Collins.” She swiveled toward Darcy. “You could give him lessons, couldn’t you, Mr. Darcy?”
Darcy stared at her, trying to formulate a reply. One look at Collins told Darcy that the man was physically inept. It would take years of lessons to make a difference.
“Please, Mr. Darcy?” Mr. Collins asked. “Perhaps, with a lesson or two, I
wouldn’t feel so doomed.”
Darcy sought the right words. He held no desire to give the man false hope. He felt eyes upon him and turned to Elizabeth, still by his side.
She gave him a look he couldn’t read and turned to Mr. Collins. “If Mr. Darcy gave you lessons, would you make a point of clarifying the nature of Mr. Wickham’s offense?”
“Yes, I would. Of course, I would.” Mr. Collins regarded Darcy with a painful amount of hope. “I’m really a coward, you know. I don’t react well to pain. I will panic if I get the slightest scratch during a duel.”
“Then why not apologize and withdraw your insult?” Mr. Bennet asked.
Mr. Collins drew himself up. “Because coward or not, right is right,” he said, the statement losing some drama with the tremble in his voice.
“You are a hero,” Miss Kitty breathed. “You are willing to face death for what is right.”
Mr. Collins turned to Miss Kitty, his mouth gaping open in surprise.
“You will give him lessons?” Elizabeth asked Darcy, voice low.
Darcy suppressed a sigh. “I will.”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth murmured, fingers briefly touching his sleeve.
Mr. Collins cast a grateful look Darcy’s way, then sagged, sinking back down into the chair he’d occupied when they entered. Miss Kitty clapped, expression joyous.
“Will you begin now?” Miss Lydia asked eagerly. “Can we watch?”
Darcy shrugged, looking to Mr. Bennet.
“I have a pair of masks and swords,” Mr. Bennet said, tone one of resignation.
“Well then,” Elizabeth said brightly. “Let us get started.”
Chapter Fifteen
Darcy rolled down his shirtsleeves, then crossed the trampled grass to reclaim his coat from where he’d folded it over the back of one of the benches on the Bennets’ lawn. He nodded to Mr. Bennet, who sat on the other bench, in the sun. Appearing even more pale out of doors, Mr. Bennet nodded back but didn’t rise.
He’d been watching their progress. For a time, Miss Lydia had as well. Miss Mary had come out, shaken her head, and returned indoors. Darcy hadn’t seen Miss Bennet, but he’d overheard Miss Lydia say she sat with Mrs. Bennet, trying to keep her calm. Miss Lydia had also remarked that watching him and Collins practice was much less fun than she’d hoped.
Sighting movement to his left, Darcy turned as he donned his coat. Elizabeth crossed to his side. Though she wore a bonnet, her cheeks were stained pink.
“You have been outdoors too long?” Darcy asked, worried she’d taken too much sun while he and Collins fenced.
The color in her cheeks deepened. She shook her head. “I am perfectly well, thank you. I came to ask if you would like me to show you the shortcut Miss Darcy and I took earlier?” Her eyes intreated.
“I would be most grateful,” he said, though, from where he stood, he suspected he could pick out the path from his rides.
Mr. Collins walked over to them, Miss Kitty trailing him, gaze fixed on him. She wore an unsettlingly besotted expression.
Collins bowed. “Thank you, sir.”
“My pleasure,” Darcy said and was surprised to realize he didn’t need to lie. Collins had no skill, but he seemed eager to learn and fencing outdoors in the crisp autumn air proved a pleasure. Darcy forbade his gaze to slip toward Elizabeth, even as he conceded that he’d also enjoyed the audience. “You will likely require more lessons.”
Collins released his breath. “I hoped you would offer, Mr. Darcy. May I prevail upon you for further instruction tomorrow?”
Darcy searched his mind for previous obligations. “I intend to ride with Mr. Fitzwilliam tomorrow morning. Perhaps later in the day?”
“Mr. Fitzwilliam sometimes calls at the Lucases on his rides,” Elizabeth said.
Darcy turned to her in mild surprise. He hadn’t realized Richard called on Sir William often enough for others to note the frequency. Then, in truth, he didn’t know where Richard rode to most days. Darcy assumed his cousin varied routes.
“What I suggest is that Mr. Collins visit the Lucases with us tomorrow,” Elizabeth continued. “We do not, after all, wish to impose on you unduly, Mr. Darcy. Mr. Collins can practice with Mr. Lucas and his brothers, and if you and Mr. Fitzwilliam happen by, why, all the better.” She turned to Mr. Collins. “While there, you can be sure to reiterate your reason for renouncing Mr. Wickham.”
Darcy frowned. By taking Collins to the Lucases, did Elizabeth seek to see less of Darcy? Or, worse, was her goal to socialize more with Richard?
“That is, if you find no flaw in that plan?” Elizabeth said.
Darcy shook his head. “None.” He turned back to Collins. “You did well today.”
Mr. Collins stood a bit taller. “Thank you.”
Darcy offered a nod and proffered his arm to Elizabeth. As they turned, he was peripherally aware that Mr. Collins offered Miss Kitty his arm. Collins led Miss Kitty toward Longbourn. Darcy and Elizabeth walked in the opposite direction.
“I assume you wish to speak with me?” he said.
Elizabeth cast him an amused smile. “You are astute.”
“On what do you wish to converse?”
“I simply wished to thank you.”
“For?” he asked, frowning.
“You were very patient with Mr. Collins today. Anyone can see he’s terribly inept, and you were forced to repeat yourself often, but you never once seemed angry, even though he created this trouble for himself and…” She shot him a quick, worried look. “And his action may well harm Miss Darcy’s reputation.”
Darcy nodded. “They may, but that harm is already done. There is no point in Collins dying or being seriously injured, if it’s possible to save him.”
“You do not think Mr. Wickham would kill him?” she asked, tone startled.
“You have not met Mr. Wickham?” Darcy believed she’d said as much but wished to be sure.
“I have not, though all the rest of my family at Longbourn has, and my Aunt and Uncle Phillips.”
“I know him well.” Darcy searched for words as they walked. “He is charming. Most people like him very much. He has an easy way of making friends.” He shook his head. “Keeping them, that is different. Once you come to know him, you become exposed to the baser side of his nature. He is almost childlike in his selfishness and greed.” Darcy raised his gaze to study a cloud drifting slowly across the vast blue of the sky. “I like to think he would not kill Collins, but Wickham has disappointed me at every turn. Now, I cannot say for sure what he will do.”
Elizabeth met Darcy’s words with silence. A glance showed her brow creased in thought. “Mayhap he will find some honor,” she finally said. “Or maybe, with your guidance, Mr. Collins will at least manage to defend himself. A duel is only to first blood, after all.”
“That depends on how your father and Mr. Denny negotiate, but I assume your father will push for first blood.”
“My father will push for no duel at all,” Elizabeth said, her tone holding a bit of her usual wryness. “I’m certain he rightly believes the idea ludicrous.”
They reached the taller grass, and the path his sister and Elizabeth took earlier that day. Elizabeth withdrew her hand from his arm. He turned to her, to study her face. The faintest dusting of freckles speckled across her cheeks and nose, somehow at odds with the drollness of her gaze. Then, her lips turned up at the corners and warmth pressed any hint of a sardonic edge from her expression.
“Regardless,” she said. “I do thank you sir. You walked into a troubling situation. You could have made things worse for everyone. Instead, you made everyone involved feel better. Hopefully, yourself included.”
Darcy’s neck heated a bit with her praise and the knowledge that she was correct. He’d been a hairsbreadth away from taking the opposite track, demanding Mr. Collins rescind his insult, even if it was to Wickham. Darcy realized it was only by dint of Elizabeth’s apology to him, delivered with all sincerity even though his sister
’s reputation wasn’t Elizabeth’s responsibility, that he’d been reasonable. Her ill-placed guilt over the events had diverted Darcy from his usual quickness to find fault.
Darcy nodded, unsure how else to respond to her praise. He bowed over her hand, as if they parted at a formal event, then turned and set out across the field. He felt Elizabeth’s eyes on him every step of the way, until he crested a hill and headed down the other side.
The walk, although shorter across the fields, still allowed plenty of time for introspection. Darcy strode toward Netherfield, attempting to organize what must be said to Georgiana. Despite Elizabeth’s teasing, Georgiana must be made to know that disappearing without informing anyone of her whereabouts, or at least taking a maid, was unacceptable. Should he also speak to her about her lie, and Wickham’s presence in Hertfordshire?
Elizabeth’s wry smile filled his vision, followed by the memory not of hers, but Richard’s words. Georgiana was not a child. Not yet a woman grown, but not a child. Darcy should speak to her, but not in the tone he intended. To find the right tone, it would be best to speak with Richard first.
That decided, Darcy lengthened his stride. Soon, he cut across the lawn toward Netherfield. He debated the kitchen entrance but went around to the front. Somehow, it didn’t surprise him that Miss Bingley happened to be crossing the foyer when he entered.
“Mr. Darcy,” she said in poorly feigned surprise. “Have you been out all this time? I trust nothing went awry?”
“I made the acquaintance of Mr. Collins, who is to someday take Mr. Bennet’s place as master of Longbourn,” Darcy said. “I spent some time offering him…guidance.”
Miss Bingley’s demeanor relaxed. She assayed a slight smile, the expression foreign to her lips. “Well, he must be a person worth knowing, then. I’m pleased to hear that is what kept you. I’d feared some ill had befallen Miss Elizabeth.”
Darcy suspected that was more likely what she’d hoped. “I must speak to Mr. Fitzwilliam. Do you know his whereabouts?”
Miss Bingley nodded. “He retired to his room after luncheon, to compose a letter.” Her frown reappeared. “Did the Bennets offer you luncheon?”
A Duel in Meryton Page 14
