A Duel in Meryton

by Renata McMann

  Chapter Eight

  The remainder of the afternoon found Darcy out of sorts. Not that any would notice, he suspected, for he made a show of reading. Georgiana continued her needlework. Miss Bingley endeavored to keep Richard by her side. Mrs. Hurst complained continuously of losing at cards, for she partnered a very distracted Bingley. Mr. Hurst rose from the sofa at some point and wandered from the room.

  The doctor arrived and Bingley ushered him upstairs, where he remained for what Darcy felt to be an overly long time. When he came down, Bingley jumped to his feet.

  “How is she?” he asked, hurrying across the room. “How is Miss Bennet?”

  The doctor nodded in greeting. “She is very ill, Mr. Bingley. You were right not to move her. I’ve given Miss Elizabeth a tonic, and instructions. If Miss Bennet doesn’t show improvement over the next two days, you must send for me again, sir.”

  “Certainly, I will.”

  “When will the poor dear be able to return to the comfort of her family?” Mrs. Hurst asked.

  “If she improves from this point, she must still remain for several days,” the doctor replied.

  “Several days?” Miss Bingley repeated sharply. “How shall we know when we might move her?”

  “You may send for me, if you like, or you may trust Miss Elizabeth’s judgment.”

  “Miss Elizabeth’s?” Miss Bingley sniffed. “She will wish to remain for so long as possible.”

  “Doctor Flynn said she will know, Caroline,” Bingley admonished.

  The doctor nodded. “I know the Bennet’s well, having called on Mrs. Bennet on many occasions. Touch of the nerves, you see.” He blinked a few times, peering through thick spectacles. “Miss Elizabeth is keen minded and steady. Her judgment on when it is safe to remove Miss Bennet may be trusted.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Bingley said, leveling a quelling look at Miss Bingley. He offered a bow, which Doctor Flynn returned.

  “It’s a shame Miss Bennet is of such a sickly nature,” Mrs. Hurst said in an overloud voice. “And even with country living. I daresay it’s a blessing the poor thing isn’t made to endure London.”

  “Sickly?” the doctor repeated, pausing in turning away. “Nay, the Bennet girls are a hearty lot. Rarely have I been required for any reasons other than Mrs. Bennet’s nerves. Even Miss Kitty, with her cough, is otherwise of fine health. Mr. Bennet is lucky in that. Sir William has a house full of lads. They require frequent setting and stitching. So much so, that Miss Lucas has become quite adept at both. Both Miss Lucas and Miss Elizabeth possess singular intelligence for women.”

  “Yes, well, thank you, Doctor,” Bingley repeated, casting a grimace toward his sisters. “Let me walk you out.”

  With a gesture, Bingley gestured the doctor from the room, leaving the others to return to their amusements, though those at the table had to await his return for cards. Darcy took back up his pretense of reading.

  Finally, the dinner hour arrived. Miss Elizabeth joined them, her gown simple and modest. Miss Bingley had set out place cards, saying they must impress their guest. In truth, Darcy suspected she wished to keep Miss Elizabeth as far from any eligible gentleman as possible, while at the same time monopolizing them and putting Georgiana near Bingley. This theory was born of Darcy’s and Richard’s placements on either side of Miss Bingley, with Miss Elizabeth and Georgiana flanking Bingley at the other end. The Hursts were opposite each other in the center of the table, but since talking across the table was gauche at a formal dinner, that was acceptable enough.

  As dinner wore on, Darcy was amused to note that the few sentences his sister uttered were when Miss Elizabeth joined the conversation with Bingley. Georgiana spoke in monosyllables when Mrs. Hurst tried to talk to her. Richard acted like the dinner was informal and spoke to Darcy. They didn’t exclude Miss Bingley, but she rarely had a private conversation with either man. Bingley and Georgiana were largely silent when Miss Elizabeth talked to Mr. Hurst. Darcy wondered how she knew to talk to him about betting. He’d no opportunity to find out for, when dinner ended, Miss Elizabeth departed with immediacy. She took with her much of the brightness in the room.

  Once the gentlemen rejoined the ladies, Miss Bingley suggested another game of cards. Darcy, along with his cousin, Bingley and the Hursts, agreed. Darcy didn’t wish to pretend to read any longer. It annoyed him that his attention had kept wandering from his book to the doorway, every sense alert for Miss Elizabeth’s return. The strange hold she had over him was unsettling. Cards would prove a distraction.

  Only Georgiana declined to join the game, moving instead to the pianoforte. Soon, music filled the room. Though his sister was quite skilled, Darcy couldn’t help but wonder if he should have the opportunity to hear Miss Elizabeth play.

  Cards served Darcy little better than the book had. He struggled to keep track of whose play they waited on, or what cards had been put down. His attention wandered repeatedly to the parlor doorway. He wished often for the interminable evening to end, yet couldn’t bear to retire, sure Miss Elizabeth would come down the moment he did.

  When, late in the evening, she finally appeared in the doorway, Darcy felt a lightness in his chest. It was as if a weight had pressed down, but now lifted, enabling him to better breath. The other gentlemen stood. Darcy belatedly followed suit.

  “Miss Elizabeth, how is Miss Bennet?” Bingley asked.

  “She finally sleeps peacefully,” Miss Elizabeth said.

  Darcy noticed a slight weariness in her. Did it come from worry for her sister, or the strain of tending her these many hours? He hoped the latter. For so much as he didn’t condone Bingley’s interest in the lady, Darcy wished Miss Bennet no ill.

  “Would you care to join us at cards, Miss Bennet?” Richard asked.

  Darcy wished he’d thought to voice the question.

  “No, thank you, Mr. Fitzwilliam. I believe I should like to read.”

  “Our loss,” Richard replied with a smile.

  Miss Elizabeth returned the expression then, as they all retook their seats, headed toward the sofa on which Darcy had spent much of the day. Several books rested on the table nearby, for that particular sofa provided the best light for reading, day or night. Out of the corner of his eye, Darcy watched Miss Elizabeth peruse the table’s offerings. She took up the very book he’d been attempting to read. She sat and, soon, regularly turned pages.

  “I say, Darcy,” Bingley’s voice broke into his musings. “It’s your turn to deal.”

  Darcy accepted the cards Bingley proffered and set to attending the game. On the other side of the room, the song Georgiana played came to an end. Instead of beginning another, his sister rose and went to sit beside Miss Elizabeth, who set aside the book and turned to Georgiana attentively.

  The two began to speak in low voices. Play about the table recommenced. Darcy set down a card, ears straining to hear what his sister and Miss Elizabeth said. His inattention to the game caused him to lose when he should have won. He then realized his eavesdropping was not only insulting to his fellow card players but wrong. Grimly, he forced himself to play well. He had resisted the arguments Richard and Georgiana gave at the assembly because the people there didn’t matter. The people at the card table did matter.

  No. The people in the room mattered. When had Elizabeth changed from someone who didn’t matter to someone who did?

  Elizabeth stood. “I’m rather tired. I believe I shall retire. I bid you all a good evening.”

  Darcy rose, sorry to see her go, but relieved as well. Maintaining attention to the card game had been difficult. Elizabeth offered a nod to the room at large. Darcy’s gaze followed her departure.

  Before anyone could retake their seats, Georgiana stood as well. She turned to him. “I am tired, too,” she said, and left the room.

  Miss Bingley sniffed. “Miss Darcy is young and spent much of the day on her needlework, always tiring, but I’ve no idea what excuse Miss Elizabeth can give for being such a poor guest.”
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  “I daresay one of breeding,” Mrs. Hurst offered.

  “Or being spent after spending the day tending her ill sister,” Richard said in a mild voice. “It’s your play, Mrs. Hurst.”

  As they all returned to the game, Darcy couldn’t help but wonder if his sister and Elizabeth intended to continue their conversation in the privacy of one of their rooms but could think of nothing to do to prevent them. He only hoped his impression and the doctor’s recommendation were correct, that Elizabeth was of a responsible nature. In truth, it pleased Darcy to see Georgiana converse with someone. He simply wished he could oversee their conversations. Since eavesdropping was wrong, in the future he would have to monitor their exchanges by joining them.

  He attempted his planned insinuation multiple times over the following days, but it turned out to be difficult. Georgiana stopped talking whenever he joined them. Then, one or the other would cry off, followed by the next. Darcy suspected they rendezvoused and carried on without him.

  He would have thought that notion paranoid, but he had ample opportunity to test their behavior. With Miss Bennet ill and in their care, Bingley seemed to feel they must remain in during the evenings. Staying at Netherfield Park troubled Darcy not at all. Little company existed in Hertfordshire to tempt him. Being uncertain what his sister and Elizabeth found to speak on, however, left him routinely cross.

  Over those days of voluntary exile from Hertfordshire society, Georgiana spent a surprising amount of time not only with Elizabeth, but with Miss Bennet as well, visiting her multiple times each day. With amusement, Darcy noted that even though Bingley’s sisters spoke often about entertaining Miss Bennet, their brief visits to the sick room occurred only when the gentlemen were unavailable. It was rare, if not unheard of, for Darcy and Richard to be about the manor without Miss Bingley’s attention.

  Elizabeth, on the other hand, came down only for dinner each evening, taking her other meals with Miss Bennet in her room. Elizabeth then always returned to her sister until quite late. Generally, she spoke with Georgiana, though one evening she engaged in a lengthy conversation with Richard, keeping him from his usual place as Miss Bingley’s partner at cards, before excusing herself for the night.

  “You must be careful, Mr. Fitzwilliam,” Miss Bingley said as Richard returned to the card table on that occasion.

  “Oh? Have Darcy and Bingley suddenly become more skillful opponents?” Richard quipped, nodding toward them.

  “They shall never outplay us, sir,” Miss Bingley declared. “I speak, rather, of your conversation with Miss Elizabeth.”

  “I find it difficult to see any danger in speaking with Miss Elizabeth,” Richard said, tone overly light.

  “That is because you are new to your fortune, sir,” Miss Bingley said as she lay down a card. “A woman like Miss Elizabeth is always seeking to attach a man of circumstance. Be wary she doesn’t snare you.”

  “Snare me? By arguing against my assessment of the East India Company Act?”

  They all waited for Bingley to play. Craning his neck, he peered in the direction of the staircase, as if Miss Bennet might spring from her sickbed and grace them with her company.

  Miss Bingley nodded. “She is devious, sir. Be on your guard against her moneygrubbing.”

  “If it’s a fortune she wishes, she’d rather address her efforts toward Darcy,” Richard observed. “I may have inherited Rosings, but he’s still far wealthier than I.”

  Darcy wished Elizabeth were a fortune hunter. Then, he might have more opportunity to speak with her. She never sought his company. They only conversed if he addressed her. Otherwise, she avoided him, which he attributed to his initial insult several weeks ago at their first assembly. Words he much regretted now, for her conversation delighted far beyond any other available to him, with the possible exception of Richard.

  “I’m sure she realizes Mr. Darcy is too far above her to even attempt, which is why she’s set her sights on you, and speaks to you with such animation. She wishes to take advantage of your lack of familiarity in dealing with fortune hunters.” Miss Bingley aimed a frown at her brother. “Charles, stop woolgathering and take your turn.”

  “What?” Bingley turned back toward the table. “Oh, right, yes,” he said, and placed down a completely useless card.

  “Speaks to me with animation?” Amusement colored Richard’s tone. “Apparently, she’s going after Georgiana as well, then. I happened to be out for an early morning walk and found them strolling arm in arm. I heard my cousin tell Miss Elizabeth about some incident at school. I haven’t been able to get much more than monosyllables from Georgiana for several months.” He set down a card.

  Darcy played an uninspired card, for Bingley had given him nothing with which to work.

  Miss Bingley’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps that is her angle for attracting you, then, Mr. Darcy. We all know how you treasure your sister.”

  “If it’s an angle, I daresay it’s working,” Richard said before Darcy could formulate a reply. “I know I find Miss Elizabeth’s success in drawing out Georgiana attractive, and I am merely her doting cousin.” As he played a card, Richard turned an exceedingly bland look on Darcy. “How say you, Darcy? Is Miss Elizabeth’s ability to engage Georgiana alluring?”

  “I find it shameful,” Miss Bingley said. She slapped a card down on the table. “It’s unkind to manipulate Miss Darcy so, pretending to be her friend and find interest in her.”

  “Darcy?” Richard pressed.

  “It pleases me to know Georgiana is conversing with Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy allowed. “She was once talkative.” He felt a familiar surge of anger toward Mr. Wickham, since Georgiana’s reticence was his fault.

  Miss Bingley offered a sweet smile. “It’s the way of young ladies her age to change. I’ll speak to her about her reticence. I’m sure she would be better served confiding in me than in the likes of Miss Elizabeth.”

  Darcy shrugged. He hoped his sister wouldn’t confide in anyone. No one should know her shameful secret.

  “Charles,” Miss Bingley snapped. “Play a card. Really, if you aren’t going to attend the game, you shouldn’t play.”

  As Bingley turned back to the table and fumbled with his hand, Darcy suppressed a sigh. Even if she chose to speak with Richard and not him, Darcy wished Elizabeth would return to brighten his evening.

  Chapter Nine

  Their hosts gathered in the foyer as Elizabeth assisted Jane down Netherfield Park’s grand staircase. Still pale and weak, Jane nonetheless wore a smile, her focus on Mr. Bingley. He gazed up at her as if words of devotion might burst from his mouth at any moment. Elizabeth heartily wished they would, certain Jane returned the sentiment.

  Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley flanked their brother, each a half step ahead of him, as if to bar his way should he move toward Jane. Elizabeth attempted to hide her amusement at their obvious horror over the prospect of their brother wedding her sister. They should have visited Jane more often in her sickroom. Anyone who knew Jane would be delighted to have her for a sister, no matter what size her dowry.

  Mr. Hurst wasn’t in evidence and Elizabeth suspected he enjoyed his post breakfast nap. Mr. Fitzwilliam stood below, however, looking up from beside Miss Bingley. As always, he wore a convivial expression. Elizabeth quite enjoyed his company and felt a deep gratitude toward him. Without Mr. Fitzwilliam and Miss Darcy, her time at Netherfield should have been truly excruciating.

  Beside Mr. Fitzwilliam stood, to Elizabeth’s surprise, Mr. Darcy. As usual, a severe expression marred his handsome countenance. As far as Elizabeth could ascertain, Mr. Darcy lived in a rather dismal world, where something always existed with which to be displeased. This seemed especially true when she was about, for she often found him watching her with a frown. She could not be in the same room with him without his eyes upon her, a dour twist to his mouth.

  As Elizabeth and Jane reached the bottom step, Miss Darcy rushed forward, almost unnoticed in her brother’s shadow. She extended
her hands to them. “Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, you shall be missed,” she said, voice low.

  Jane offered a smile. “We will miss you, too, Miss Darcy.”

  “We shall not be so very far away,” Elizabeth said. “We would be happy for you to call.”

  “It brings joy to my heart to see you improved, Miss Bennet,” Mr. Bingley said, stepping past his sisters. “I only wish your stay with us could have been under easier circumstances.”

  “Thank you for permitting me to remain, Mr. Bingley,” Jane murmured.

  “And for the use of your carriage,” Elizabeth added.

  “It is not my carriage,” Mr. Bingley said. “Mr. Darcy has provided his.”

  Elizabeth turned to him, eyebrows raised in question. “Has he?”

  “We deemed it the most comfortable,” Mr. Fitzwilliam said into the following pause.

  Elizabeth had noticed the care of Mr. Darcy’s cousin and Mr. Bingley. They often paused to give Mr. Darcy the opportunity to speak. He rarely availed himself. Still, she schooled the amusement with which she met Mr. Fitzwilliam’s eyes and turned to Mr. Darcy. “Then we thank you, sir, for the kind use of your carriage. We shall send it back with all haste.”

  “There is no need for haste,” he said in a rare act of addressing her directly.

  “Oh, but there is. Surely our sisters will attempt to appropriate it.” She knew it was mean to tease so rigid a man but could hardly help herself. A wince on his part rewarded her words, then Jane’s elbow dug into Elizabeth’s side.

  “Thank you, sir,” Jane said.

  Mr. Darcy offered a bow.

  “Miss Bennet, allow me to assist you to the carriage,” Mr. Bingley said, presenting Jane his arm.

  She accepted and he led her out, freeing Elizabeth to turn back to face Mr. Bingley’s sisters. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

  “Yes,” Miss Bingley said in that nasally, supercilious way she had.