Complications

by Clare Jayne

“There then. Mr Brightford is far too dull to allow matters get out of hand.”

  Lottie gave a short laugh. “You are unfair to the poor man. Yet you are right, also: he is dependable enough that I believe I can rely on him to keep Benjy safe.”

  “Of course.”

  “Perhaps I should write him a letter imploring him to do so?”

  “Certainly, although that might be a little improper so I would not mention it to your parents if I were you.”

  Lottie looked beseechingly at Amelia. “You truly believe it will be all right?”

  “I do and, indeed, when Benjamin returns safely I hope you will tell him that you are proud of him.”

  “I will do no such thing or he might take the notion of regularly fighting duels.”

  Amelia fought back a smile with only moderate success. “I do not think he would run quite so wild as that.”

  * * *

  Benjamin’s valet woke him before dawn. Despite only having had a few hours of sleep, he immediately jumped out of bed to wash and dress, feeling only pleasant anticipation at what lay ahead. For weeks he had had to see Lottie’s misery and at last he could do something about it. He did not intend to kill Saverney, much as the man deserved it, as Saverney did have a family who might actually miss him, besides which Benjamin had no desire to become a fugitive. However, as Amelia had commented to him on her way out of the house yesterday, causing Saverney an embarrassing injury would be a most pleasant thing.

  Mr Brightford, along with making all the arrangements for today, had given him a few pointers for the duel. He had also made a half-hearted attempt to talk Benjamin out of the duel then mentioned that his cousin, Mr Nathaniel Fenbridge, was particularly concerned for Benjamin’s safety. The latter news was especially welcome as was the idea that he might appear in a remotely heroic light to that gentleman for defending his sister’s honour.

  He ate a large breakfast and Mr Brightford arrived just as he was finishing. They stepped outside to the sight of a sky striped orange and red then took a carriage to the appointed place which was an area of countryside with no houses in sight. Mr Saverney had not yet arrived so they remained in the carriage to wait.

  “Are you nervous?” Mr Brightford asked him.

  “Not at all. I have been inactive too long in this.”

  Mr Brightford nodded his understanding. “It might be tempting to want the man dead for his actions, but that would only make things difficult for you and worse for your family.”

  “You need not explain; I am not such a fool that I am not aware of that. Besides, every member of my family plus Miss Daventry have already said as much, although Miss Daventry did at least suggest I inflict a painful injury.”

  Mr Brightford gave a snort of amusement then glanced out of the window. “I think this is them.”

  Mr Saverney’s carriage pulled up next to theirs and he got out accompanied by Sir Bridton, the son of a successful merchant. As Benjamin stepped outside into the unexpectedly cold drizzle of early morning, he saw that Mr Saverney was pale but that his mouth was set in a determined line. He bore little resemblance to the charming liar who had won Lottie’s heart.

  The gentlemen approached each other and Sir Bridton said, “It is my duty to ascertain whether there is some peaceful way to resolve this argument.”

  “There is not,” Benjamin said flatly.

  Sir Bridton opened a box containing two pistols and presented them to first Benjamin then Mr Saverney, who each took one, Benjamin testing its weight and the unfamiliar feel of it.

  They took their places back to back - almost like a dance, Benjamin thought - then Sir Bridton gave the word and they began walking. The twenty paces stretched out ahead of him, straining Benjamin’s patience. He finally reached twenty and turned round to see Saverney aiming at him. A shot rang out - loud in the stillness - and Benjamin was jerked backwards several steps, arm exploding in pain. Damn, it was his shooting arm too.

  He gritted his teeth and lifted his throbbing arm to take aim. Saverney went pale and it was clear how much effort it took for him to remain in place. Benjamin made the shot then he let his arm drop to his side with a groan of pain. The wound was bleeding profusely.

  The next thing he knew Brightford was by his side wrapping a neckerchief tightly round his arm, which stopped the bleeding but made the pain even worse.

  “Did I hit Saverney?”

  Brightford hesitated. “I am not certain how severely hurt he was. He was hit around the stomach area.”

  Benjamin grimaced at this news. “I was aiming for his arm.”

  “Do not worry about it. Bridton will fetch him a doctor. You need to return home so that I can do the same for you.”

  * * *

  Lottie had had a restless night worrying about the duel and she awoke hearing male voices downstairs. She realised Mr Brightford had arrived and as she was in her nightgown it was too late to go down and wish Benjy luck. As she listened to them leave the house and the carriage drive away, this increasingly felt like a terrible failure on her part.

  She got out of bed and began to dress, not bothering to call her maid at such an hour. The least she could do now was be waiting the moment Benjy returned. She heard her parents descending the stairs and joined them for breakfast, although she could not face the thought of food. She sat with them in silence and sipped a cup of chocolate.

  The time inched by until finally they heard the sound of the door knocker. They all jumped to their feet, getting to the hallway as the butler opened the door. Benjy and Mr Brightford entered the house and she went cold at the sight of blood all over her brother’s shirt and jacket.

  She gasped and her mother made a horrified exclamation as Benjy said, “I am fine.”

  Mr Brightford added, “It is only his arm that is injured - it looks far worse than it is. I have sent my carriage to bring back the doctor.”

  “We are grateful, sir,” Papa said.

  Refusing offers of help, Benjy walked up to his room, the rest of them trailing after him. Lottie helped him to remove his jacket and shirt while her mother rang for a maid to fetch warm water so they could bathe the wound. As he sat on his bed Benjy looked far too young to have been injured in such a way.

  “How is Saverney?” Papa asked.

  “The wound was either in his side or stomach,” Mr Brightford answered, brow furrowed. “It could be serious.”

  “He could die?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Then Benjamin would be branded a murderer?” Mama said, clasping her husband’s arm.

  “I am afraid so, but we must hope it does not come to that. When the doctor arrives I will send my footman out to bring back news of Saverney’s condition.”

  “I can send someone.” Her father left to arrange this.

  Lottie numbly helped clean Benjamin’s arm, wiping away blood until the basin of water was red. She felt sick – Benjy had fought the duel because of her. She should have forbidden it. Now he might have to flee the country, even in his wounded state. They might never see him again.

  It was all her fault.

  * * *

  Amelia was confident that nothing could be amiss as she knocked on the door of Mr Harrington’s home. She could not imagine any outcome to the duel except complete success for Benjamin. Indeed, the previous evening it had occurred to her that very likely Mr Saverney would be too much of a coward to even show up to fight and would have to skulk out of Edinburgh a laughingstock.

  It was, therefore, with surprise that she found herself led into the drawing room while the maid checked if Lottie could see her. Almost at once Lottie came into the room, face so pale and haggard that Amelia’s stomach lurched and foreboding filled her.

  “Benjamin..?” He could not be dead?

  “He is injured - his arm. The doctor says he will shortly be recovered…”

  “Oh, thank goodness!” Amelia sank into a chair.

  “… But Mr Saverney’s injury is far worse. If he should die Benjy would
have to leave all of us and flee the country.”

  “It will not come to that,” Amelia said, needing to reassure herself as much as Lottie.

  “If it does I will have ruined our family.”

  The words were spoken so softly that Amelia almost thought she had misheard. “How could any of this possibly be your fault?”

  “He fought the duel for my sake. I could have found a way to stop him…”

  “But I convinced you it would be fine,” Amelia exclaimed, getting up and crossing the room to her friend. “If it is anyone’s fault, it is mine.”

  “Not at all. You were simply comforting me.”

  “No, I was not. I honestly believed Benjamin was so clearly in the right that it would all work out. It was stupid and wrong of me.”

  “It is not your fault,” Lottie insisted.

  “Then neither is it yours.”

  “Perhaps. I simply cannot believe that it has come to this.”

  “Nor I. What is Benjamin’s injury?”

  “It is towards the top of his arm. The physician took out the bullet and said Benjy was lucky as it had not caused any loss of movement in his hand and fingers.”

  Amelia was prevented from answering by the sounds of voices in the hall.

  “Oh, that might be news about Mr Saverney’s condition. I must go and check.”

  Lottie darted from the room and Amelia paced back and forth, wondering how she could have been so naïve as to assume no harm would come from the duel. After what seemed an interminable time she heard footsteps approaching and Lottie came in, a smile lighting up her face.

  “Everything is well. Mr Saverney is not as badly injured as we feared. The injury is in his side not his stomach, which apparently means he will soon be better.”

  Amelia embraced her. “I never dreamt of a day when news of Mr Saverney’s good health could give me pleasure.”

  Chapter Eight

  THE DUEL HAD not gone according to plan, Mr Brightford mused, as his carriage slowed to a halt, but at least the outcome had been about as good as one could ask for and Harrington would soon be back to full health. Still, he had left his home at a time when most people were getting back after a good evening’s entertainment so he would be glad to relax for an hour or two. He descended from his carriage to the welcome sight of his city house and headed inside, barely making it into the hall, before he was metaphorically pounced upon by his guests.

  “We expected you back hours ago,” Alex said as the three men came into the hall and watched Brightford remove his wet tailcoat and hat and hand them to his butler.

  “Something went wrong.” Nathan’s normally amiable countenance was grave. “Is Mr Harrington ..?”

  “Harrington has a minor arm wound which he will quickly recover from,” Brightford reassured them. “I waited with him for word of whether or not Saverney would recover from his injury, but he is now on the mend so there is no need for further concern.”

  “That is excellent news,” Alex said, slapping him on the back.

  Nathan and Wrackley echoed these sentiments, Nathan looking as if a burden had been lifted from him at the words. Brightford then recalled that he had not yet eaten breakfast and since it would shortly be time for luncheon, he had better hurry to do so. He asked his butler to see to it then walked into the dining room, his guests wandering after him like ducklings after their mother. They all sat down around the mahogany dining table and Wrackley and Alex began to discuss their plans for the evening.

  Nathan picked up a salt cellar from the table, turning it in his hands. “Do you think Mr Harrington will want visitors? I am not well acquainted with him, of course, and perhaps you think it would not be a good idea?”

  Brightford kept a straight face with difficulty. “I have a strong intuition that Harrington would be delighted to receive a visit from you.”

  * * *

  “You are very quiet,” Mrs Daventry observed as they sat in the drawing room, embroidering, awaiting a call from one of Mama’s friends.

  Amelia looked up from her half-finished cushion cover with a frown. “The older I get the more I realise that life is not as simple as it ought to be. I keep expecting things to happen in a just manner and they do not.”

  Her mother’s lips twitched. “What brought on this observation?”

  Amelia explained about the duel and how she had been so convinced Benjamin would prevail. At least he was recovering and Lottie could relax and stop worrying about him. Amelia could not help but feel that Mr Brightford had handled the duel badly, allowing the situation to get so badly out of control, but Lottie had insisted that he was of great assistance in its aftermath, which was something.

  “He behaved in a brave, if foolhardy, manner and thankfully both he and Mr Saverney will recover,” Mama said. “It is good, though, that you see the consequences of thoughtless actions. For a woman in particular, good behaviour is vital as even an ill-advised word can come back to haunt her.”

  That was not what Amelia had meant and she found it vexing that her mother had taken the opportunity to deliver another lecture. It was not her own behaviour she was concerned about but the behaviour of the world where good people did not always succeed in their endeavours and bad ones were not always punished. Now, more than ever, Benjamin’s actions seemed brave to her and she wished it was possible for ladies to achieve as much instead of just worrying about their stupid reputations.

  * * *

  Benjamin had been half-heartedly reading, already feeling caged by the doctor’s insistence he remain indoors today, when the butler announced Mr Nathaniel Fenbridge’s arrival. Boredom turned to pleasure and he raced downstairs to the drawing room to his guest.

  After exchanging greetings, Mr Fenbridge said, “I am happy to see you up and about after your injury.”

  “Oh, I feel quite the fraud.” Benjamin indicated his arm in its white sling. “My family and doctor are fussing over me all for this tiny gash. I have had worse injuries from being given a shave.”

  It was a small joke but Mr Fenbridge laughed heartily, making him feel like the wittiest of men.

  “Is there any more news of Saverney?”

  “He is in no danger,” Benjamin said. “That is all I care about. The last I heard he was still abed but he can stay there permanently if it prevents him appearing at mutual social events and distressing my sister.”

  “And how is Miss Harrington?”

  Benjamin grimaced. “I think my injury gave her quite a shock. She will be well now, though. I believe Miss Daventry will be calling later and she always cheers Lottie up.”

  “Does that mean your family will be attending Mrs McLeod’s ball tonight?”

  “I imagine so. Will you be going?”

  Fenbridge nodded and that was Benjamin’s decision on the matter made. They sat drinking tea and discussed the running of an estate for a while then somehow moved onto the subject of criminals, with Benjamin promising to show Mr Fenbridge the place where the infamous masked thief William Brodie had been hanged twelve years previously.

  “We saw one poor fellow at the crossroads on the way into Edinburgh, dead and in irons. I dislike seeing even criminals treated in such a way.” His compassion made him even more appealing; Benjamin had yet to discover anything that he did not admire about Mr Fenbridge and this feeling was dangerous.

  “They are normally used in anatomy class at the College. I am not sure if that is a better fate, although at least it serves to improve our physicians.”

  “The College?”

  “Edinburgh University,” Benjamin said. “The city’s crowning glory.”

  “I have heard that it has students from all over the world.”

  “That is true, not that learning is as popular as it used to be, when all our best thinkers are accused of sedition and sent off to Australia. But I should not criticise or I might be accused myself.”

  “I swear never to denounce you,” Mr Fenbridge said and smiled as if they were sharing a secret. �
��But, if you are right, at least you could be sure of good company in Australia.”

  Benjamin laughed and agreed, but privately thought that no company could be more enjoyable than that of his current companion. He had a feeling he was going to get his heart broken again but the lure was irresistible.

  * * *

  “What will you wear to the ball tonight?” Amelia asked Lottie as they walked round the nearby park, a line of trees providing some shade from the dazzling sunshine that had followed the earlier rain. The grass smelt fresh and the colours of grass and flowers were richer after being watered.

  Lottie nodded to an acquaintance then hesitated, a gloved hand brushing a leaf from her parasol. “I am not sure I will go. The last couple of days have been so tiring…”

  “You have to go,” Amelia told her, afraid that Lottie could retreat altogether from society given the chance. “Think how Benjamin would feel. He would blame himself.”

  “But that is nonsense.”

  “He would think you were so embarrassed over the duel that you refused to attend.”

  “Then you are right: I must go.” Lottie was clearly unhappy over the decision.

  “Remember how pleasant Mr Brightford’s ball was? You danced nearly every dance and with just about every eligible bachelor in the room.” Indeed, Amelia had hopes that Lottie may soon have another suitor.

  Lottie smiled. “Hardly that but it was a pleasant evening.”

  “And there is no reason to think this will be any less so.”

  “You are right. My mother would say that I am having a fit of the mopes and must get over it.”

  Amelia could well imagine it: Mrs Harrington was a stern, autocratic woman. “Is your brother going?”

  “Oh, yes. I believe Mr Nathaniel Fenbridge will be there.”

  Amelia digested the underlying message with interest. That took Mr Fenbridge off the list of eligible men for Lottie but she was pleased for Mr Harrington’s sake. As long as it did not end badly. “Do you believe Mr Fenbridge might be someone who could return his feelings?”

  “I do not know. It is impossible to judge. They have certainly struck up a strong friendship, though. He came to visit Benjy just this morning and nothing could have aided Benjy’s recovery more.”