Colonel Forster looked from one twin to the other, then back at Mr. Wickham. “Is Rosings valuable?”
“About nine thousand pounds a year from tenants,” Mr. Wickham stammered. “And the estate owns some prime farmland.”
Colonel Forster’s eyes went nearly as wide as Mr. Wickham’s. “And you have a funds flow problem?” Colonel Forster asked Richard Fitzwilliam.
He shrugged. “There were many bequests in my aunt’s will. They took all the available funds.”
Mr. Wickham jabbed a finger toward Richard Fitzwilliam. “But I called you Walter. You turned around.”
“And ignored you as you were not addressing me,” Richard Fitzwilliam said. “I’ve always responded to Walter, since so many people confuse us.”
Mr. Wickham took a step back, face paling. He shot Mr. Collins a quick look. “Then it wasn’t Walter who Pratt saw duel with Mr. Collins the other day.”
“No. It was me,” Richard Fitzwilliam replied in a hard voice.
Mr. Wickham whirled to face Mr. Pratt. “You said Mr. Collins won two out of five?”
“That’s what I saw,” Mr. Pratt replied.
Mr. Walter Fitzwilliam appeared perplexed, but behind Richard Fitzwilliam’s hard façade, amusement lurked. Though not twins, Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy mirrored that mixture, with Mr. Bingley obviously confused and Mr. Darcy not bothering to hide a grim smile. Elizabeth glanced at her party to see Lydia was paying impatient attention, Mr. Collins collar was soaked with sweat, and her father looked wan but entertained. She took a step nearer him in case he needed her.
“I don’t see what any of this has to do with my sister,” Mr. Bingley complained.
“Two out of five?” Mr. Wickham repeated, voice a bit weak. “Against Colonel Fitzwilliam?” He swallowed, eying Mr. Collins as if he’d never seen him before.
Colonel Forster gave Wickham a look of disgust, but Mr. Denny stepped forward. “Mr. Bennet is clearly well enough to act as second and Collins is rumored to be marrying soon and then leaving. The duel should be fought.”
“This is not the first time I’ve left Longbourn since I became ill,” Mr. Bennet said, “but it is the first time I haven’t required a carriage. I am by no means well.”
Elizabeth moved nearer still, worried by her father’s words. Maybe he simply wanted to delay the duel, but she would not take any chances. If he faltered for being made to stand so long in the street, with such high emotions playing about him, she would be there for him to lean on.
“You are here in town, sir,” Mr. Denny said. “You are well enough.” He turned to Mr. Collins. “Do you have any excuses, Collins? Rumor has it you’ve been making ready to depart. Running like a coward, are you?”
Elizabeth frowned at Mr. Denny’s derisive tone, but Mr. Collins squared his shoulders. “I am marrying in two days’ time and departing for my parish, not running.”
“I suppose you’ll use your wedding as another excuse to delay the duel?”
Mr. Collins shook his head. “There is no need to delay. Everything is in order. Mr. Phillips, soon to be a relation of mine, was kind enough not to charge me for helping me write my will. I’ve left all I have to my intended bride.”
“Then why the preparations to leave, if you aren’t running?” Mr. Pratt asked.
“If the outcome of the duel turns out to be felicitous, I will want to leave the area quickly, possibly never to return.”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. Didn’t Mr. Collins expect to return to Longbourn when her father died?
“Of course, someday, I may be required to return, or in a position to return,” Mr. Collins continued. “Certainly, I will need to return to Longbourn when I inherit, but I hope that will not be for quite some time. If I survive the duel, especially if I kill Mr. Wickham, I hope Mr. Bennet will live long enough that any repercussions from the duel no longer affect me. Not that the repercussions of killing Mr. Wickham are the only reason I wish Mr. Bennet well. Of course not. Certainly not. I don’t wish to imply any such thing.” He turned to Elizabeth’s father. “I am sorry if I did. Mr. Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, please forgive me. I was carried away in planning what I should do after I kill Mr. Wickham. Not, that is to say, that I will try to kill Mr. Wickham, but in the act of self-defense, these things might happen, after all, for which I also apologize.”
Elizabeth touched Mr. Collins’ sleeve, as she’d often seen Kitty do, to calm him.
Mr. Collins drew in a deep breath. “Tomorrow is Sunday, but if proper arrangements can be made, I am willing to fight the following morning, early, before my wedding. I certainly wouldn’t wish to interfere with that.”
Mr. Denny gave a sharp nod. “Well then, Mr. Bennet and I shall arrange for that.”
Elizabeth’s father let out a sigh. “If we must.”
Mr. Denny and Mr. Pratt appeared pleased, but Colonel Forster frowned. Mr. Denny gestured Mr. Bennet off to the side and frowned when Elizabeth followed her father over. Mr. Denny didn’t protest, however, or comment on the way Mr. Collins hovered behind them. The arrangements were made quickly, with no hitch until Mr. Denny insisted his principle had demanded well-bloodied rather than first blood.
“That’s not reasonable,” Elizabeth’s father protested.
“Mr. Wickham insists,” Mr. Denny replied, looking obstinate.
“Perhaps this hasn’t been enough time for tempers to be restored,” Mr. Bennet said.
“Is Mr. Collins so great a coward?”
Elizabeth glared at him, but Mr. Denny ignored her glare as he did her presence.
“I actually do not believe I am a coward,” Mr. Collins, who probably shouldn’t have been listening according to code duello, said. “I will accept well bloodied,” he added with surprising firmness.
“Then we’re agreed” Mr. Denny said. He proffered his hand.
Mr. Bennet let out a sigh and shook, expression resigned.
Mr. Denny turned back to the other officers. He raised his voice, saying, “It’s settled.”
“Let’s go,” Mr. Wickham snapped, expression worried, and turned away.
As the officers left, Mr. Bennet murmured, almost to himself, “I’ll take the carriage.”
Elizabeth clasped his arm as the officers strut off, worried for his health. Lydia hurried back toward the group, but not quickly enough that the officers couldn’t reasonably ignore her as she called after them. Mr. Darcy took Mr. Walter Fitzwilliam aside, and what Elizabeth caught of their quick exchange revealed that Mr. Darcy had not, indeed, made any of the other man’s circumstances public knowledge. Both gentlemen concluded that what Mr. Wickham did know, he’d heard by rumor of another source or conjectured. Meanwhile, Richard Fitzwilliam explained the confusion to Mr. Bingley and assured him that Mr. Walter Fitzwilliam had only honorable intentions toward Miss Bingley.
Mr. Bennet, leaning on Elizabeth, watched the exchanges wearily. “Mr. Collins, if you would fetch my horse?”
“Yes, of course. Certainly.” Mr. Collins bobbed a bow. “Right away. I won’t be long.” His words trailed off as he headed toward the stable.
“If you will excuse us,” Richard Fitzwilliam said to Elizabeth and her father. “We shall collect our mounts as well.”
Mr. Bennet nodded.
“We’re leaving already?” Lydia complained. “All we did was walk here and then everyone argued. None of the officers would even talk to me.” She leveled a hard look in the direction Mr. Collins had gone.
“Yes, we are leaving already,” Mr. Bennet said in a tone that brooked no argument.
They waited in silence for the gentlemen to return. When they did, Mr. Collins immediately offered to assist Mr. Bennet to mount, tone apologetic. Obviously, he keenly felt his neglect in not offering to take Mr. Bennet’s gelding to the stable earlier.
“It was…entertaining to see you all,” Richard Fitzwilliam said, bowing.
“And a pleasure to meet you,” his brother added.
Mr. Bingley bowed. “I must attend to the
errand that brought me to town, a purchase for Caroline, but please tell Miss Bennet I hope to call on her soon.”
“We shall,” Elizabeth replied.
“You return to Longbourn?” Mr. Darcy asked.
“We do,” Elizabeth’s father said from where he now sat on his horse.
Mr. Darcy met Elizabeth’s gaze. “May I walk with you?”
She looked to her father, who offered a slight nod. Elizabeth turned back to Mr. Darcy. “That would be pleasant,” she said, and meant it.
“But I don’t want to go back,” Lydia said.
Ignoring Lydia, they all exchanged a few last farewells, then parted ways. Mr. Darcy turned his horse over to Mr. Collins, who started to lead it, until Mr. Darcy suggested he ride. Mr. Darcy then fell in step with Elizabeth. Riding beside Elizabeth’s father, Mr. Collins immediately resumed their earlier discussion, while Lydia trailed behind. A glance back showed her expression quite sullen.
Elizabeth turned her gaze forward as they strode down the lane, contemplating their outing to Meryton. If they hadn’t met Mr. Wickham and his fellow officers that day, the duel might have been put off for weeks longer. The more she thought on it, the more she wished they’d never ventured into Meryton that morning. Soon, her mood became at least as dour as Lydia’s.
Chapter Twenty-One
As they walked, Darcy became aware of a growing frown turning down Elizabeth’s lips. Darcy had thought her happy to accept his company. He added a frown of his own, wondering if she now wished him well away, and why.
“Exactly what does ‘well-bloodied’ mean?” she asked, voice edged with anger.
Darcy shrugged, keenly aware how near his shoulder was to her slender form. “I don’t believe it is clearly defined, but sometimes the offense is not considered sufficiently punished by first blood, which could be a scratch.”
Elizabeth pondered this, gaze going to Mr. Collins’ back where he walked with her father. “Do they take a measure? A teaspoon or less is a scratch? Maybe we’ll be generous and make it a tablespoon.” Her words were clipped. “Or does it have to be a cup to be ‘well-bloodied?’”
“I think a cup of blood would clearly qualify and a teaspoon would not. It would be impractical to measure the amount.” Aware arguing would only amplify her mood, he gentled his tone and observed, “You are upset.”
After a time, she let out a long sigh. “I am.”
“May I know why?”
Silence drew out between them. Darcy didn’t press her.
Finally, she glanced at him, lips set in a firm line. “Because people can be killed in duels, and it will not accomplish anything.”
“You mean, Mr. Collins could be killed,” he said, addressing the problem head on.
Elizabeth nodded. “I realize he’s not a very sensible man, and he can be longwinded, but soon he will be my brother and I find I don’t mind. Kitty is marrying him because he’s brave and standing up for what he believes is right. His diligence in training and daily exercise has improved him and shown good character. He has noble qualities.”
“What he believes is right?” Darcy reiterated.
Elizabeth offered a wry smile. “I beg your pardon. I meant, what is right. I believe you and Miss Darcy, not what Mr. Wickham has said.”
Darcy felt something unclench within him. He hadn’t realized how much her qualification hurt until she removed it. “Thank you.”
“It wasn’t Mr. Collins’ place to denounce Mr. Wickham, yet now it is everyone’s business.” She shook her head. “Maybe it should be. It could be argued that Mr. Collins acted in the best interests of the community. By exposing Mr. Wickham’s actions, he’s protected other young women.” She cast Darcy a quick glance, touching concern on her face. “I only hope Miss Darcy doesn’t suffer repercussions for this.”
It was his turn to sigh, but he suppressed the urge. “I wanted to take her away from the scandal, but the community has been surprisingly supportive. Everyone is very kind to her. I misjudged the people here.”
Elizabeth offered a quick smile. “Mr. Wickham made a mistake. He described her as very proud. Mr. Bingley’s sisters might be considered to deserve that description, but Miss Darcy doesn’t. At the assembly, she danced with those who asked her and was more talkative with partners she’d just met than with those of her party.”
He could almost hear the accusation at the end of that statement, her silent, ‘unlike you,’ but didn’t broach the subject. It pleased him too much to speak amiably with Elizabeth to further sour her mood. “Then why haven’t people stopped supporting Mr. Wickham?”
She turned her gaze up the roadway, expression thoughtful. “I’m not sure. Maybe because those who support him have not encountered Miss Darcy? Or maybe due to malicious gossip, for some are always willing to believe the worst.” She grimaced. “Our community has become divided.”
“I am sorry our presence has divided your community.” He shook his head, still surprised at the treatment Georgiana enjoyed in Hertfordshire, especially after his own blundered introduction to their society. “It is unexpected. I had assumed most all would rail against my sister and me.”
***
Elizabeth studied Mr. Darcy askance. She could find no hint of sarcasm in his tone. Still, angry he should think the people of Meryton so readily fooled, she couldn’t contain the derision coating her words as she said, “Of course, it would be preferable that we unite around Mr. Wickham’s lie.”
“It has happened before.” Mr. Darcy’s tone bespoke of bitterness. “When we were both at Cambridge… No, there is no point to reliving that.”
She studied him again, this confusing man who strode beside her. Handsome, to be sure. Wealthy. Possessed of good friends and caring relations. Yet, not happy. How much of that unhappiness was perpetuated by Mr. Wickham and the acute difference between the two? Admittedly, she knew Mr. Wickham mostly through reports from her family, but where Wickham exuded easy charm, Mr. Darcy proved stiff and withdrawn. Where Wickham offered compliments he did not mean, Mr. Darcy offered insults that he did.
“I’m sorry.” She reined in her aggrieved tone and tried again. “I’m sorry he has blighted your life. You must hope he will lose the duel.”
“I do. But if he does, he will somehow twist things so he gets everyone’s sympathy.”
Sympathy and annoyance warred within her. A man of Mr. Darcy’s means and connections had no right to wallow in self-pity. “Again, I’m sorry. I’m sorry he’s made you bitter.”
“I thought I had moved past any care for George Wickham’s machinations.” Mr. Darcy shook his head slightly, as if disagreeing with his own words. “No. I thought he was out of my life and so I needed no longer think on them. Then he showed up. He showed up at Ramsgate and nearly ruined my sister’s life. He showed up here and may ruin your sister’s life.”
“Or did he improve Kitty’s life?” Elizabeth wondered.
Mr. Darcy cast her a startled look, much more becoming than his inwardly aimed recrimination. “I beg your pardon?”
“I don’t think Kitty would have been attracted to Mr. Collins if Mr. Wickham hadn’t shown up,” Elizabeth said thoughtfully. “Lydia has always been the leader, and she persuaded Kitty that the militia contains wonderful men. Then Mr. Collins stood up to the man Lydia likes best. There must be a little bit of competitiveness in Kitty, for that to stir her interest in Mr. Collins. Basically, Kitty found someone who is better than Lydia’s favorite and who is eager to have her, while Lydia’s choice shows no such inclination toward matrimony.”
Mr. Darcy’s expression became thoughtful. A wave of pleasure stole through Elizabeth. She’d made a point so good, Mr. Darcy considered her words, rather than instantly arguing. She savored the feeling as they continued down the road, some distance now behind her father and Mr. Collins.
“I don’t want anyone killed in the duel,” Mr. Darcy said.
“What outcome would please you?” she asked, though she felt she knew.
“
It may be petty of me, but I would be very pleased if Mr. Wickham knew humiliation, especially at Mr. Collins’ hands.”
It was a pleasure to speak with Mr. Darcy both amiably and honestly, instead of having to choose one or the other. Recovered from her fit of temper, Elizabeth sought to further lighten the mood. “How about if he gets a scar? On his face. Not a romantic one that would make him more interesting, but an ugly scar.”
Mr. Darcy walked in silence for a while. Elizabeth wondered if she had offended him. She’d only meant to tease.
“Thank you,” he finally said.
“For what?”
“For making me realize the pettiness of my anger toward him.”
“My intention was not to reprimand you.”
“Yet a reprimand was deserved.” He glanced at her, gaze oddly intent, before turning his attention back up the roadway. “Mr. Wickham and I were friends as children. I should not forget that. I cannot wish him well, but I do not wish him dead. You can jest about a scar, and yes, I said I would like to see him chastened, but mainly, I would like people to know that I am an honorable man.”
Elizabeth thought that over. Mr. Darcy, she’d found, was ever complicated. “Will a duel accomplish that?”
His lips quirked upward. “No. Most people will continue to believe whatever they wish to believe.” He shook his head. “As they will not think as I wish, perhaps I should try to place less value on what others think.”
His words were reasonable and spoken without rancor or condescension. She frowned, unable to reconcile this Mr. Darcy with his behavior when he arrived in Hertfordshire. She didn’t wish a return to their usual animosity, but couldn’t refrain from asking, “If you care what people think, why did you behave the way you did at the assembly?” With his aloofness and unwillingness to dance with a single woman outside his party, save Charlotte as part of a bet, Mr. Darcy had offended more than Elizabeth that day.
“My behavior in general?” he asked, tone tentative.
“There is that.” Did he also consider his insult to her?
He clasped his hands behind his back, expression thoughtful. “I was a fool. I thought myself above my company which, in truth, brought me below it. Yet, even after my behavior, many here are still polite to me, even friendly, and many more are good to Georgiana. The kindness and understanding offered to Georgiana, when I know how London society would treat her in similar circumstances, humbles me.”
A Duel in Meryton Page 20
