A Duel in Meryton

by Renata McMann

  “It wasn’t missed eventually?”

  “It was, but not for months after his visit. We never connected him to the painting’s absence. I also learned something I’d suspected, but of which I was never sure.” A glance showed Mr. Darcy’s visage had gone as grim as his voice. “Wickham helped someone plot to kidnap a cousin of mine. He claimed he believed the man was only going to court her.”

  “I assume your cousin was an heiress.” Elizabeth narrowed her gaze against the brightness of the sky. They neared the highpoint of the hillock and the breeze strengthened.

  “Very much so.” Mr. Darcy’s voice took on a wistful note. “When I was ten or eleven, my mother told me that I should consider marrying my cousin, who was a small child at the time, to keep our fortunes in the family. I was fond of my cousin, so I always assumed that, when the time came to marry, I would consider her, but Anne was too ill to marry anyone.”

  Tightness constricted Elizabeth’s chest, but she forced a normal tone to ask, “Did you love her?”

  Mr. Darcy shook his head. “Not in that way. I loved her more in the way I love Georgiana, though less so.”

  The tightness eased. “Did she love you?”

  He gave another head shake. “No. If anyone, she loved Richard. He saved her, you know, from the man who tried to kidnap her. I believe that’s why my aunt left the estate to him. Rosings, along with all that went with it, was meant for Anne.”

  Elizabeth couldn’t think of a more worthy man to bequeath an estate, except perhaps Mr. Darcy. But he already had Pemberley, and any who heard him speak of his home must know he loved it beyond measure. “Maybe your aunt thought Mr. Fitzwilliam and your cousin would have wed, if your cousin had lived, and so passed the estate on to him.”

  “No. Anne died first, after which Lady Catherine rewrote her will. Since her only child was dead… Well, Richard was the right choice among her nephews.”

  They crested the hilltop in silence. Hertfordshire’s verdant, rolling hills spread out before them against a backdrop of blue sky. Lazy, puffy white clouds drifted high above.

  Elizabeth’s lips curved in a smile. “It’s lovely, don’t you think?”

  “Very.” His single, quiet word brought her head around. He studied her once more, gaze intent.

  Heat rose in her cheeks and she turned quickly back to the view. She gestured to their right. “You can’t see from here, but Meryton is not far beyond that hill.”

  “The place of my newfound acceptance,” he said in a normal, if slightly amused, voice.

  “You mean because, in view of Mr. Wickham’s lies, you now have Colonel Forster’s approval?”

  “As well as Mr. Pratt’s and Mr. Denny’s, as they are angry with Wickham for deceiving them. More than that, when Bingley and I rode through Meryton on our way to Longbourn, two people greeted me. Not only did I return their greetings, I stopped and exchanged a few words with each.”

  “You’d best be careful,” she said lightly. “You might find yourself unable to pass through Meryton without squandering your time being friendly.”

  “That would be a terrible fate.” His words had a lightness to them. “On future visits, I may have to employ the shortcut you showed me the day you walked Georgiana back.”

  She swiveled from the view to study him. “There will be future visits?”

  “If you will permit it, I plan to visit many times.”

  Her breath caught. “How many times?”

  The breeze ruffled his neat locks. “As many as it takes.”

  Elizabeth studied him. He could hardly be clearer in his meaning. Yet, weren’t they near adversaries? At least, they had been, until his apology. Since then, she saw him in a kinder light. How did he see her? That day on the road, before his companions caught up to them, he’d called her pretty. Fresh warmth suffused her cheeks. She dropped her gaze to the grass and stone beneath her feet. After a long moment, he shifted back toward the view. Elizabeth looked up to find him studying the sky above.

  "Perhaps I may seek your advice," Mr. Darcy said.

  “Certainly.” The word came out so breathy, she wished to call it back. She tried for a stronger tone and asked, “On what topic?”

  "I apologized to you, and you were gracious enough to accept my apology, but there is the issue of Miss Lucas. I know she is aware of my transgression, but there is no way I can say anything without adding to my insult."

  Elizabeth drew in a slow breath, reordering her thoughts. Amusement sparked. "You say she knows of your transgression. Is this because you overheard the two of us talking?"

  He turned to her in surprise. "Yes. But how do you know I overheard you? I didn't tell anyone and neither of you looked my way."

  She couldn’t contain a laugh. "You heard our second conversation. We had the conversation, and at the end Charlotte said it was too bad you hadn’t heard what we said about you. She claimed that if you had even an ounce of decency, you would be embarrassed.” She cast him a smile. “I admit, I suggested you did not. She then proposed we repeat the conversation while in your hearing, as a test.” Elizabeth shook her head, curls tumbling with the mixture of movement and wind. “It was very difficult to avoid looking at you. I wanted to see your reaction."

  She looked at him now and watched the succession of emotions that stole across his features. The changes were subtle. When they met, she would have seen only one, his usual stoic lack of expression. Knowing him better, she observed surprise, annoyance, guilt and, finally, wry amusement.

  "I was embarrassed. Chagrined. It never occurred to me that anyone would guess why I danced with Miss Lucas."

  “So, it was on a wager?”

  “It was. On top of that, you may have suggested I do not hold an ounce of decency, but I proclaimed not only would you stand up with a wealthy man minutes after he’d insulted you, but that if you did not, you wouldn’t have the integrity to then refuse other gentlemen.”

  “My goodness but we had terrible opinions of one another, did we not?”

  His expression filled with recrimination. “Yes, but my opinions of you were incorrect. I’m afraid you were more justified in your assessment of me.”

  “Not entirely. You do feel guilty, so I must conclude that you do have at least an ounce of decency, maybe even a quarter pound.” His look of self-loathing didn’t lessen, so Elizabeth added, “The real question is, how do we measure the true weight, for I suspect you hold more than an ounce of fine qualities. Do you suppose decency, honor and integrity fit in a teaspoon? Though, I imagine, we’ll need a cup at least.”

  His severe expression eased. “It would be impractical to measure.” As quickly as his mood had lightened, he became grim again. "How can I tell Miss Lucas that I danced with her because I lost a wager that…” He grimaced. “That is, we stipulated the incorrect party must dance with the ugliest woman in the room. The apology would be as bad as the original offense. Yet I owe her an apology. A profound apology."

  Elizabeth tucked her hair back behind her ear. "I see your point. Charlotte has always been very realistic about her appearance, but I can't believe she wouldn't be hurt by being so characterized." Elizabeth met Mr. Darcy’s gaze. “I cannot but think your words would carry a harsh weight for her. I have been told I’m pretty my whole life, and they still stung me.”

  As he had on the roadway, he caught one of her hands. Gaze wedded with hers, he brought her fingers to his lips. Elizabeth’s heart took up a now familiar pounding. His thumb caressed the back of her hand as he lowered it, sending a thrill of delight through her.

  “Again, I beg your forgiveness. I cannot comprehend what had me say those words. Yours is the loveliest countenance I have ever seen.”

  Elizabeth pressed her free hand to her chest, trying to slow her heart before she succumbed to dizziness. Would she learn what he’d meant to say on the roadway?

  He started to bend a knee. “Elizabeth, I—”

  A giggle brought Mr. Darcy up straight. They both swiveled toward th
e sound. Jane’s and Mr. Bingley’s heads appeared, followed by more of each as they crested the rise. Sharp regret and something akin to anger sped through Elizabeth. Reluctantly, she slipped her hand from Mr. Darcy’s grasp. He frowned at her sister and Mr. Bingley. They looked up and sighted Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy.

  Mr. Bingley cleared his throat. “We apologize for lagging quite so far behind. Miss Bennet and I were…” He turned to her.

  Jane’s cheeks bloomed with pink. “Unexpectedly detained.”

  “Oh?” Joy for her sister quickly chased Elizabeth’s disappointment away. “Who or what detained you?”

  Jane exchanged a positively doting look with Mr. Bingley. “Each other,” she said softly.

  Mr. Bingley’s face split with a grin. “We’re engaged. Or at least, we will be if I get Mr. Bennet’s consent.”

  “Oh Jane.” Elizabeth rushed to hug her sister.

  “Congratulations,” Mr. Darcy murmured.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The four of them made all haste back to Longbourn. Mr. Bennet’s permission was sought and given. Mrs. Bennet collapsed but insisted on remaining in the parlor. Miss Lydia sat beside her and dabbed her forehead with a damp cloth, while Georgiana took a turn on the pianoforte to provide more soothing accompaniment than Miss Mary knew how to play. During the ensuing commotion, Darcy found no graceful means of separating Elizabeth from her family. So much so, he began to fear she deliberately avoided being alone with him.

  When they’d stood on the hill, her smooth skin bathed in the morning sunlight that crept beneath her hat and her silken curls dancing about her cheeks, she must have guessed his intention. A proposal had all but left his lips. Was avoidance her way of declining him gently?

  He sat off to one side of the Bennet’s parlor while the womenfolk and Bingley laughed, conversed and assayed plans. Mr. Bennet had already retreated to his library, saying Mr. Phillips would draw up something for Bingley to sign. Bingley hadn’t even asked for the specifics of the document. Looking at his friend’s overjoyed expression, Darcy wasn’t sure Bingley would bother to read before he signed.

  “Oh, and the banns can be read this Sunday,” Mrs. Bennet cried, not for the first time. “Three weeks. In three weeks, my Jane will be mistress of Netherfield Park. Netherfield Park!”

  Unlike everyone else, Darcy watched Elizabeth as her mother spoke, and so saw Elizabeth grimace and cast a quick look his way. Not wishing to give insult, he kept his expression bland.

  Insult…Perhaps that was the trouble. After his apology for maligning her, Elizabeth had warmed considerably. Miss Lucas was Elizabeth’s dearest friend. Did Elizabeth require full amends for Miss Lucas before he offered for her hand? If so, Darcy’s desire to apologize to Miss Lucas had more than doubled, but he would require Elizabeth’s help.

  Unfortunately, the moment a wedding was planned, Mrs. Bennet became shockingly conscientious about leaving Miss Bennet alone with Bingley. This, in turn, meant Darcy could find no time to speak with Elizabeth, as she became her sister’s shadow. Apparently, Mrs. Bennet would have gladly seen her daughter compromised into a union, yet now feared too much time with Miss Bennet would satisfy Bingley’s need for her and see him on his way.

  Darcy would be insulted on behalf of his friend, if he weren’t so frustrated by an inability to speak privately with Elizabeth. He attempted several singular rides and walks, but Bingley pounced on anyone leaving Netherfield in the hope they intended an outing that offered an excuse to see Miss Bennet for even a moment. Finally, Darcy claimed an errand in Meryton on behalf of Georgiana. That he had an insignificant stop to make there did little to ease his conscience as his real goal was Elizabeth. But, between Bingley and Mrs. Bennet, they all but forced Darcy into subterfuge.

  As he entered the village, two officers stepped from a storefront into the street. Darcy didn’t slow, accustomed to being ignored by anyone in a red coat, but one of the men raised a hand in greeting. He nudged his companion and they started across the street toward Darcy. Unable to claim he hadn’t seen them, Darcy brought his mount to a halt.

  “Mr. Darcy,” the first greeted in cordial tones. “Sir, I should like to tender my apology. You were in the right, and Mr. Wickham in the wrong.”

  “Thank you,” Darcy replied, surprised.

  “That goes for me as well, sir,” the second officer said. “The next man who questions your honor won’t have us on his side, you can be sure.”

  “Thank you.” Darcy refrained from saying he did not foresee a repetition of such slander. He didn’t usually permit people such as George Wickham in his association. He’d learned enough to know voicing that would only alienate them, but realizing he should be more than minimally polite, he added, “It takes a good man to admit he has been wrong.”

  “Thank you, sir,” one said. The other nodded.

  The two men tipped their hats. Darcy did likewise and parted ways. A few doors down, he dismounted and went into a shop to pick up a length of ribbon Georgiana had ordered in preparation for Bingley and Miss Bennet’s wedding. Darcy came back out to the sight of Mr. Watson, a man whose family had refused to fraternize with those who supported Mr. Collins, coming down the street.

  Sighting Darcy, Mr. Watson bowed. “I heard the good news from Netherfield Park. That makes another Bennet daughter happily accounted for. I trust the first wedded couple are well on their way?”

  Darcy realized that Mr. Watson, as part of the other camp, hadn’t been part of the Collins’ celebration. Therefore, he assumed Darcy had been, not aware that the Bennets, unsure if Collins would survive the duel, had kept the wedding breakfast small. In the same moment, Darcy also realized he’d never asked Elizabeth how her sister’s wedding celebration had gone, or for any news of the newly made Mrs. Collins.

  Seeking back for what little knowledge his sister had provided, garnered from Miss Lydia, Darcy offered, “They left from the church door.”

  “Then I can’t be blamed for missing them. If you come across the opportunity, wish them well from the Watsons.” Mr. Watson let out a lugubrious sigh. “Terrible thing, us being taken in by that Mr. Wickham.”

  “Yes.”

  Mr. Watson accepted Darcy’s brevity with a pleasant nod and continued down the street. Darcy turned toward his horse, only to find four more officers headed his way. They professed to being suspicious of Wickham all along but said they hadn’t spoken up because the general opinion of him was so positive. Darcy hid his skepticism and pretended to be impressed by their acuity.

  After the officers came several more gentlemen and two ladies. Darcy behaved as genially as he could. He didn’t wish to squander the good will of the community, or take their esteem for granted, as he had when he’d first arrived. It wasn’t only a personal issue. Georgiana’s good reputation, at least in Hertfordshire, was partially dependent on how people perceived Darcy.

  Quite obviously, their good reputation also hinged on Mr. Wickham’s bad one. It was like a seesaw. As Wickham went down, Darcy and Georgiana went up. Darcy wished it could be otherwise, that they could shed even so tenuous a connection to Wickham, but he did his best to converse in a friendly manner. It took him nearly half an hour to remount his horse and head toward Longbourn, and Elizabeth.

  Frustration gnawing at his temperament, he urged his mount up the lane. A short distance outside the village, a carriage drew into view. Darcy didn’t know if he should be elated or defeated as he recognized it as Mr. Bennet’s.

  When they met, the carriage drew to a halt. Darcy’s heart leapt as Elizabeth alighted, a smile on her lips, and swung the door closed behind her. Darcy dismounted to greet her. From the carriage, Mrs. Bennet, Miss Mary and Miss Lydia all peeked out.

  “We’re on our way to Meryton to see what gifts we may contrive for Jane.” Elizabeth gestured over her shoulder, toward the carriage, but didn’t break from his gaze. “You seem to be headed in the opposite direction. Toward Longbourn?”

  He nodded. “To see you.”


  “Lizzy, get back in so we can go,” Miss Lydia called.

  Elizabeth angled her head to look over her shoulder, showing off the long, graceful sweep of her neck. “I should like to walk with Mr. Darcy.”

  “But we’re meaning to—” Miss Mary began.

  “Shush,” Mrs. Bennet hissed before turning her face back toward them to smile ingratiatingly. “Mr. Darcy, how kind of you to wish to walk with our Lizzy. I know she isn’t as pretty as Jane or Kitty, but you’ve missed your chances there, haven’t you? Best not to miss again, because Lydia is bound to win an officer now that this terrible ordeal with Mr. Wickham is over.”

  Elizabeth, facing him again, raised her gaze in silent supplication.

  “Thank you for the advice, Mrs. Bennet.” Darcy gestured to the carriage driver. “Do not let me detain you. I shall see her home.”

  The carriage started forward and Elizabeth stepped to his side. “You were on your way to see me?” Elizabeth prompted once the carriage dwindled behind them.

  Darcy glanced about, finding them quite alone. He regretted the horse and the dusty lane, but perhaps they were for the best. The roadway was no place to propose, and he needed to put things right with Miss Lucas before declaring his intentions. Not only to clear any objections Elizabeth may have but, also, for the sake of his relationship with Richard. It had occurred to Darcy that his cousin might wed Miss Lucas, and he had no desire to be estranged from Richard.

  “I am in need of guidance.”

  “And you seek mine?” Her voice rippled with interest.

  He nodded. “I remain committed to rectifying my behavior toward Miss Lucas, yet my quandary is the same. How can I apologize? Yet, how can I not? I want to ask forgiveness of Miss Lucas without hurting her further.”

  Elizabeth issued a slight sigh. “I’m not sure that is possible.”