A Duel in Meryton

by Renata McMann

  “The nature of my instructions to Mr. Collins precluded such an offer.” In truth, he’s forgotten about food. Now that Miss Bingley mentioned luncheon, hunger assailed him.

  Miss Bingley sniffed. “A house full of women and not one a competent hostess. Of course, how could they be with Mrs. Bennet as their example.”

  Darcy made no comment, waiting to see if Miss Bingley would offer to have a tray prepared for him.

  “Well, as you and Mr. Fitzwilliam will be occupied, I suppose there shall be no cards,” she said after a moment. “I shall read in the green parlor. Miss Darcy is practicing there.” Miss Bingley aimed one of her near-smiles at him. “I do so love listening to Miss Darcy play. I could listen to her for the rest of my days.”

  Darcy had no reply to that, either.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Bingley offered after a lengthy pause.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Bingley.” He turned and headed up the steps. Darcy sought his own quarters first, and his valet. He ordered a tray be brought, then headed to his cousin’s room. “I hope I am not imposing,” he said as Disher showed him in.

  “Not at all.” Richard turned from the desk, writing materials arrayed before him. “I’m only writing to Walter. He thanks you for your advice, by the way.”

  “He is most welcome.”

  “You missed luncheon,” Richard observed as he stood. He crossed to join Darcy in the sitting area. “Miss Bingley mentioned that you were with Miss Elizabeth.” Richard met Darcy’s daze squarely. “Is there aught I should know?”

  Darcy met his cousin’s teasing with a frown. “There is, but not in the way you think,” he said, and went on to inform Richard of the morning’s revelations about Georgiana, and then the details of Miss Lydia’s report and the subsequent lesson for Mr. Collins. The tray arrived as Darcy spoke, but he didn’t avail himself of food until he’d finished his tale.

  Richard sat back in his chair, expression thoughtful. “I don’t remember fencing with Wickham. What kind of swordsman is he?”

  Darcy speared a slice of cold beef. “Better than anyone could be after a week or two of training.”

  “If Mr. Bennet is sensible, he will delay the duel for months.”

  Darcy shook his head. “Wickham is pushing for a duel soon.”

  “Mr. Collins has every right to delay. Half the purpose of a formal duel is to give men time to have second thoughts.”

  “Wickham can’t back down.” Darcy slathered on mustard. “He would lose the respect of his fellow officers.”

  Richard offered a knowing grin. “And no one would take his word or his IOU’s.”

  Darcy nodded, for that was likely Wickham’s primary concern. Wickham always had trouble paying his debts and generally extended a significant number of IOUs. Not legally enforceable, debts of honor were only as valid as Wickham’s façade. While Darcy doubted Wickham cared about his personal honor, having little, he surely cared about his ability to extend IOUs to his fellow officers. No, they weren’t likely to dissuade Wickham from this duel.

  ***

  Elizabeth woke the following morning feeling decidedly unsettled. Her night had been filled with dreams of Mr. Darcy. Over and over, she saw him in his vest and shirt, sleeves rolled up, sword in hand. For a gentleman who generally appeared reserved to the point of being stiff, he moved with surprising grace when he fenced. Fluid, precise, elegant of form. Descriptions she’d never thought to apply to Mr. Darcy.

  More than that, he’d been patient. He’d repeated words and movements over and over for Mr. Collins, who appeared even more awkward than usual by comparison to Mr. Darcy’s polish. Elizabeth had heard the instructions enough times to try her serenity, but Mr. Darcy showed not a flicker of frustration.

  To her continued annoyance, visions of Mr. Darcy in his shirtsleeves remained with her as she readied for the day, as she helped Jane with her hair, and even into breakfast. Elizabeth couldn’t concentrate on Jane’s attempts to converse, and repeatedly found herself shredding her food rather than eating it. Keen relief filled her when Mr. Bennet appeared, for Elizabeth required a more forceful distraction than Jane, who’d fallen silent after Elizabeth’s second murmured apology for her lack of attention.

  Mr. Bennet greeted them and sat. Though he usually filled his own plate, he gestured over a footman and requested food. Elizabeth observed her father carefully and decided he looked a bit improved. Mr. Bennet still ate less than usual, but at least he ate. She attempted to follow suit as more of her relations filed into the room.

  Soon, the table was full. Elizabeth’s mother and younger sisters saturated the room with chatter, but Mr. Collins appeared pale and spoke not a word. He, too, toyed with the food on his plate, but Elizabeth suspected he didn’t suffer from dreams of Mr. Darcy, unless they were of Mr. Darcy commanding him to repeat a lunge over and over.

  “Mr. Collins,” Mr. Bennet said. “You were learning very quickly for someone who has never fenced.”

  Mr. Collins looked startled. “I felt very awkward. I doubt I have a chance against Mr. Wickham.” He swiped a shaking hand across his face. “I am afraid he will kill me.”

  Mrs. Bennet looked over, expression pleased. “That would break the…”

  “Our hearts,” Kitty interrupted.

  Everyone at the table, with the possible exception of Mr. Collins, knew Mrs. Bennet was going to mention the entail. Elizabeth doubted her mother was correct. Weren’t there more male relatives lurking about, ready to swoop in when the time came? She glanced at her father and hoped that time was quite far off.

  Mr. Collins aimed a surprised look at Kitty. “Your hearts?”

  Kitty nodded. “Even though we’ve only known you a short time, we wouldn’t want you to die.”

  “I think it would be exciting,” Lydia said, earning a glare from more than Kitty.

  Mr. Collins’ expression clouded.

  Kitty turned back to him, mien earnest. “She doesn’t mean that, Mr. Collins. None of us want you to die. I pray you receive not even a scratch. The thought alone nearly breaks my heart.”

  “And there are other living heirs if Mr. Collins were to die,” Mr. Bennet said, aiming his words at Mrs. Bennet. “Ones possibly less amiable. Mr. Collins came to us in good faith, after all.”

  Mr. Collins stared at Kitty, apparently oblivious to Mr. Bennet’s words. “Would you really be heartbroken if I died, Miss Kitty?”

  “Yes.” She gave a vigorous nod. “You are so very brave.”

  Mr. Collins sat back in his chair, blinking rapidly, expression confused. “Brave? I’m shaking. Still. I am afraid of swords and more afraid of pistols.” He swiped a trembling hand across his face again. “Even if I survived a duel with pistols, the thought of a ball being dug out of me gives me a cold sweat. I barely slept last night. Mr. Darcy fenced with me for less than an hour, and my muscles are sore. There is no way I can learn enough in time to beat Mr. Wickham.”

  “But you aren’t backing down,” Kitty said, adoration shimmering in her eyes. “You’re doing what you think is right even though it frightens you. That’s bravery.”

  “The very definition of it,” Mr. Bennet added.

  Mr. Collins spared him a glance before turning back to Kitty. “Miss Kitty, do you really admire me? I spent the night wondering what my life is worth. I have no one. No one cares for me. Yet, your family took me in. Your father got up from a serious illness and offered to be my second. I came here to find a wife because I need one, and not only to find someone who can run my household. I can’t bear the thought of empty evenings with no conversation. Miss Kitty, if you truly do admire me, will you marry me?”

  Several gasps sounded, Kitty’s among them. Elizabeth pressed a hand to her cheek, shocked. A glance showed her father serine, her mother gapping, and revealed Lydia’s frown. Mary and Jane, to their credit, both appeared happy.

  Kitty’s eyes glowed. “Yes. I will marry you, Mr. Collins.”

  “That is most generous of you, Kitty
, if I may call you that? Know that you have made me the happiest of men.”

  Lydia’s frown curled into a look of disgust, but Mrs. Bennet snapped her mouth closed and turned her lips up in a smile. Elizabeth smiled as well, for her mother didn’t appear ready to engage in a fit, and Kitty truly did look happy.

  Mr. Collins turned to Elizabeth’s father. “Mr. Bennet, I would like permission to marry your daughter, Miss Kitty.”

  He studied Mr. Collins for long enough to make the man squirm, and cause Kitty to turn toward him in worry. “You have it.”

  “Oh, but this is marvelous,” Mrs. Bennet cried. She stood and came around the table to wrap Kitty, chair back and all, in a hug. “This way, if Mr. Collins di—”

  “Mama,” Elizabeth cut her off. She leveled a hard look on her mother and stood to go about the table to hug Kitty. At that signal, Jane and Mary stood as well. They all took turns embracing and congratulating Kitty, except for Lydia, who watched with her lips pressed into a pout.

  “When will you wed?” Jane asked, looking between Mr. Collins and their father.

  “Oh, we must marry before Mr. Collins’ duel,” Kitty cried, expression aghast. “And then you must still wait longer, for they cannot expect me to let you risk yourself too soon after our wedding. That would be cruel.”

  Mr. Collins tugged at his cravat, shakiness returned. “Yes, I hope to delay the duel until after our marriage. The banns need to be read.”

  “It is my hope that I can delay it for months,” Mr. Bennet said firmly. “Mr. Wickham pressing for an early duel is inappropriate. You must have longer to prepare. It may make no difference, for we have no idea of how good Mr. Wickham is, but you may stay at Longbourn and practice until you are married. Then you can take Kitty to your parish and I will delay the duel for as long as possible.”

  “I believe some of Sir William’s sons fence,” Elizabeth put in. “We were going to visit them this morning and see if they will assist Mr. Collins.”

  “So I overheard yesterday in the garden.” Mr. Bennet turned to Mr. Collins. “I’m sure additional instruction will do you good. Already, your progress was impressive.”

  Elizabeth wondered if that were true or if her father simply attempted to bolster Mr. Collins’ confidence.

  “Thank you, sir.” Mr. Collins expression grew a bit pained and he looked about the room. “There is one small thing.”

  Mr. Bennet raised his brows.

  Mr. Collins cleared his throat. “Uh, that is, I have only my living and an income from a thousand pounds. Miss Kitty will not be living in the style to which she is accustomed.”

  Mr. Bennet took a sip of coffee. “After my death, she will live very much in the style she is accustomed to,” he said dryly. “You will inherit an annual income of two thousand pounds. You could pay a curate and still have much more than fifty pounds left over from your living.”

  “But it is my hope you will live a great number of years more, sir,” Mr. Collins said with evident sincerity.

  Mr. Bennet nodded. “You make a fair point.” He took another sip of coffee. “I would be happy to pay you fifty pounds a year in my lifetime, but after my death, the money will be needed for the remainder of my family.”

  Mr. Collins opened his mouth. Kitty turned a love-infused look on him. He shut his mouth, cleared his throat, and looked about the room. Jane still smiled. Mary’s face was as blank as Elizabeth endeavored to make her own. Mrs. Bennet and Lydia both scowled.

  Mr. Collins swallowed and tugged on his cravat again. “You are a very wise man, Mr. Bennet. It shall be as you say.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  After breakfast, Elizabeth and Kitty took Mr. Collins on a visit to the Lucases. Jane remained to keep their father company, while Mary cited the many duties she liked to take on around Longbourn, as well as her studies, for declining to accompany them. Lydia simply refused, offering Kitty a glare for posing the question.

  Elizabeth didn’t mind. Charlotte was easier to converse with when Elizabeth’s sisters weren’t there. Aside from Jane, Charlotte Lucas was Elizabeth’s dearest friend and much better company than Mary, Kitty or Lydia. Although, distanced from Lydia, engaged and pondering the prospect of having her new husband taken from her nearly as quickly as she gained him, Kitty behaved in a more thoughtful and subdued manner than normal, making her a better companion.

  As Elizabeth suspected, the three older Lucas brothers were enthusiastic about helping Mr. Collins learn to duel. They quickly collected gear and went outside to mark off a practice area, which one of the Lucas boys insisted should be called a piste. Elizabeth, Kitty and Charlotte watched as each one, in turn, fenced with him, while he did his best both to learn and to fulfill his obligation to spread the real reason behind the duel. Much as they’d all feared, rumor already had Mr. Collins connected to Miss Darcy in various ways, most of which made Kitty scowl.

  While the men moved about the practice field with varying degrees of grace and Mr. Collins’ monologue filled the air, the Lucas brothers provided him with advice. Some of it may have been useful. A surprising amount proved contradictory. At each instance of opposing advice, Elizabeth and Charlotte exchanged amused looks. Kitty seemed too focused on the rumors flying about concerning her intended and Miss Darcy to notice what else the Lucas brothers said.

  “Mr. Fitzwilliam,” the Lucas’ butler announced, standing inside the kitchen doorway.

  Mr. Fitzwilliam thanked the butler by name and strode into the yard. Askance, Elizabeth didn’t miss the way Charlotte’s expression brightened. She turned to scrutinize her friend more fully as Mr. Fitzwilliam came over to bow to them. To Elizabeth’s amazement, Charlotte’s cheeks tinged pink.

  Mr. Fitzwilliam bowed, greeted Charlotte, Elizabeth and Kitty in turn and finished by saying, “I am triply rewarded for calling today.”

  “Fitzwilliam,” John Lucas, the eldest Lucas brother, called with easy familiarity. “Come, let me test your mettle. We’re teaching Mr. Collins to duel. He could use an example of the real thing.”

  A frown played across Mr. Fitzwilliam’s face. “Yes, Darcy told me of the challenge,” he said in a low voice, aimed at Charlotte. Mr. Fitzwilliam shook his head, expression one of regret, but mustered his usual easy look before turning toward John Lucas. “I’d be delighted to put you in your place, Mr. Lucas.”

  All the Lucas brothers chuckled, as did Mr. Fitzwilliam. Mr. Collins attempted to smile, appearing unsure of the joke.

  Elizabeth regarded Charlotte with raised eyebrows. She’d heard Mr. Fitzwilliam called on the Lucases frequently but… “Mr. Fitzwilliam seems to know your family well, and it’s a bit early for general social calls.”

  “You are here,” Charlotte said, but pink still tinged her cheeks.

  “Yes, because I know you well enough to call early,” Elizabeth said.

  Charlotte’s blush deepened.

  “How often does Mr. Fitzwilliam visit?” Elizabeth asked.

  Charlotte turned redder still. “Shh. I’m trying to watch the duel.”

  Elizabeth left off teasing. Hope suffused her that Mr. Fitzwilliam, a very worthy seeming gentleman, returned her friends obvious affection. The way he’d addressed Charlotte, giving voice to his worry instead of putting on a good face, bespoke of a certain amount of intimacy, but was it simple familiarity or admiration?

  The other two Lucas brothers hustled Mr. Collins off to the side and they all turned to watch as John Lucas and Mr. Fitzwilliam saluted. The bout began with several quick feints on Mr. Fitzwilliam’s part, which Elizabeth judged were to test his opponent’s skill, before he launched a full-fledged assault. In short order, it became obvious that Mr. Fitzwilliam held far greater skill than John Lucas. He made John Lucas look like he’d never before held a blade.

  The bout ended with both men bowing. John Lucas laughed and wiped his brow. “I know when I’m outmatched, sir. I’d say you’re the one who should be instructing Mr. Collins.”

  “And me,” one of the younger Lu
cas brothers called.

  The other nodded his agreement. Soon, Mr. Fitzwilliam became wrapped up in instructing all four other men. At one point, he cast an apologetic look Charlotte’s way. She offered a shrug and a smile.

  Mr. Fitzwilliam’s gruffer style more fully revealed how inept Mr. Collins was then had Mr. Darcy’s patient repetition of techniques or the Lucas brothers’ fumbling attempts to instruct. Kitty bit her nails as she watched and resisted all attempts to draw her into conversation. Elizabeth gave up trying to ease her sister’s mind and turned back to Charlotte.

  “Mr. Fitzwilliam instructs like a general,” Elizabeth observed.

  “He was a colonel, until he inherited property from his aunt. An estate somewhere in Kent, I believe.”

  “Yes, Miss Darcy mentioned that.” Elizabeth considered more teasing but decided to respect the privacy Charlotte obviously wanted. She changed the subject. “It looks like fun.”

  “It could be fun.” Charlotte issued a droll smile. “And, if we ever actually got in a hit, it would be a great blow to our opponent’s ego.”

  “Too bad we can’t learn to fence and then challenge Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said. “His ego needs a great blow.” Though he’d behaved well the afternoon before.

  “You tried to offer one,” Charlotte said, in obvious reference to Elizabeth’s actions at the assembly.

  “Yes, but we have no idea if I succeeded.” Could her set down be the reason for his improved behavior? “Have we?”

  Charlotte offered a secretive smile with a shake of her head. “We don’t know.”

  Charlotte’s answer could mean that neither of them had the information or that they didn’t both have the information, and Elizabeth suspected the latter. Having already resolved not to pry, she returned to watching the gentlemen. To her eye, Mr. Collins truly was improving at a steady pace, though he still appeared quite clumsy and slow, especially compared to Mr. Fitzwilliam. She wondered, unable to judge through watching each of them square off against Mr. Collins, who was the better fencer, Mr. Fitzwilliam or Mr. Darcy.