Shortly after breakfast, Paxton's butler, Symons, brought the message that there was a visitor for Miss Bennet, giving her a calling card bearing the name of Lord Charles Carlisle. Elizabeth sighed, then handed the card to Eleanor. "I suppose I must see him. but I would request that a maid attend me while I do so," Elizabeth said apologetically.
"Of course," said Paxton, gesturing to one of the maids who came forward and bobbed a curtsey. Turning to the footman, he added, "Pray inform Mr. Darcy that Lord Charles is here to see Miss Bennet."
"There is no need for that," protested Elizabeth. The last thing she needed was an unpleasant scene.
Paxton laughed. "I am doing it for my own sake, not for yours. Darcy would flay me alive if I did not inform him, and I am particularly attached to my skin. I will join you in a few minutes myself to pay my respects to his Lordship." His sardonic tone took away any trace of respect from his words.
She found Lord Charles in a large sitting room. How odd it was to be receiving a guest in a room she had never seen before! The smile he gave her before kissing her ungloved hand looked somehow strange, and it was a moment before she realized that it was a genuine smile, not a calculated attempt at seduction. Apparently he was truly happy to see her.
"My lord. I do not think I have seen you earlier than noon before," she said teasingly. "I hope there is no great emergency to rouse you at this hour."
"You see what a good influence you are on me, my dear! I brought some clothing and necessities for both you and Eleanor. Your maid was kind enough to make the selections."
Surprised at this thoughtfulness, she thanked him. "My clothing is a little worse for wear." She gestured ruefully at her dress that looked as if she had slept in it, as indeed she had. "Eleanor is in even greater need. It is a good thing she cannot walk, since she has nothing to wear but a nightdress belonging to one of Mr. Paxton's sisters that is at least a foot too long for her."
"How is my dear sister? Truly injured, I take it?"
She raised an eyebrow at his dubious tone.
"The apothecary says she is weak from loss of blood, but the main injury is to her knee. He gave no indication of when it would improve enough for her to walk on, or even if he expected a good recovery, but it is excruciatingly painful for her to move even a few inches in bed. There is a cut on her cheek that may leave a scar."
"My stepmother will not be happy about that. She places great value on a perfect complexion." Elizabeth did not doubt that, as Lady Bentham had made it clear she did not approve of Elizabeth's own rather tanned complexion. "Do you bring word from Lord Bentham or his wife? Are they still planning to bring Eleanor home today?"
"They were both still abed when I left, so I cannot say."
"I hope they will see reason and leave her here. The apothecary agreed that she should not be moved, and it would certainly be agonizingly painful for her."
"I will do my best to persuade them of that. Is it possible to see her?"
She could think of no grounds to refuse the request, apart from the scene he was likely to discover in the bedroom. Elizabeth instructed the maid to tell Lady Eleanor that her brother would be there presently. Hopefully that would give Paxton and Eleanor the chance to assume a more proper position.
Her error was in failing to consider the propriety of her own position. No sooner had the maid left the room than Lord Charles approached her, a warm, intent look on his face. "How clever of you to dispose of our chaperone. Now we may speak freely."
"As long as it is only speaking you desire, then I have no objection." Frantically, she tried to think of a way to forestall his addresses, but could think of nothing apart from fleeing. Surely she could do better than that!
He took her hand and placed a lingering kiss in the palm of it, his eyes holding hers throughout. "My Elizabeth." he said tenderly.
Every instinct told her to snatch her hand away, but she recalled Mr. Darcy's injunction. "Sir, I must insist..."
Darcy's voice interrupted her. "Not your Elizabeth, Carlisle." In a few quick strides he was beside her. To her astonishment, he physically removed her hand from Lord Charles' grip, and then laced her fingers with his own. "I am sorry for any pain it occasions you, but Miss Bennet is my Elizabeth." He raised her hand to his lips, his eyes meeting hers with an undeniable warmth that set her pulses fluttering. Had he planned to make this public declaration, or was it the impulse of the moment?
"You may be her father's friend, but that is taking it a bit far, Darcy!" said Lord Charles angrily. "You are engaged to my sister."
"You are behind the times. Last night, Lady Eleanor, whom you will find upstairs in Paxton's bed, told me she was unwilling to marry me."
Lord Charles' jaw dropped. "In Paxton's bed? I will kill him!"
Elizabeth, still stunned, interposed herself. "My lord, she is in the bed which is his, but not with him. I shared Eleanor's bed last night."
"What? This is ridiculous." His face was still stormy, but he no longer sounded out of control.
"In any event," said Darcy, "since your sister had released me from that engagement, I wasted no time in renewing my addresses to Miss Bennet. After some persuasion, she saw reason and accepted me." Elizabeth stared at Darcy in disbelief. What in God's name was he doing? She could not fault him for claiming they were engaged, since he must have known that she would accept him this time, but to imply that he had forced her into it? She hoped he knew what he was doing. His face wore a small, superior smile, but he was looking at Lord Charles, not her.
Without glancing her way, Lord Charles said tightly, "Miss Bennet, I must request that you be so kind as to leave the room."
"But..."
"Immediately." His voice brooked no argument.
Darcy released her hand, but still did not look at her. "For once. I agree with Carlisle. I will speak to you later. Elizabeth." The sense of violence in the air was palpable.
There was nothing she could do to prevent the inevitable by staying there, so she picked up her skirts and ran. She had to find Paxton and convince him to intervene. Surely he would be able to stop them! She raced for the stairs, but skidded to a stop in the entrance hall at the unexpected sight of the Dowager Marchioness handing her hat and gloves to the butler, another figure hovering in the background.
A loud thumping noise came from behind her, and she cast an agonized glance over her shoulder, then threw propriety to the wind. She hurried to the dowager's side, and with more feeling than sense, cried, "I beg your ladyship, you must come with me immediately! There is not a moment to lose! It is in every way terrible."
"Good God! What is the matter?" The figure behind the dowager spoke, and Elizabeth recognized Admiral Worthsley.
She pointed toward the sitting room. ''It is Darcy and Lord Charles. They are fighting." These last words were perhaps not necessary, since they were accompanied by a crash and cursing. "Pray make them stop!"
The Dowager Marchioness needed no further urging, walking boldly in the direction indicated as Elizabeth trailed behind. The sitting room was barely recognizable, with chairs kicked aside and knocked over. Darcy was rising to his feet, a trickle of blood running from his mouth, then his hand shot out unexpectedly to hit Lord Charles in the midriff. That gentleman doubled over just as the dowager, her arms akimbo, cried, "That is quite enough, both of you!"
Darcy, breathing heavily, turned to look at her. Lord Charles took advantage of his distraction to grab his opponent by the cravat and deliver a punishing blow to his jaw. Over Darcy's involuntary groan. Elizabeth heard behind her the unmistakable click of a pistol being cocked.
Admiral Worthsley pointed a pistol at the combatants. '"Her ladyship told you to stop." he said in a voice that would not have been out of place on a battlefield.
Lord Charles released Darcy's cravat and took several steps backward, one hand pressing against his side. His right eye was rapidly purpling. "There is no need for that." he said breathlessly.
"Thank you. Frederick," said the Dow
ager Marchioness. "One accepts the risk of highwaymen when travelling, but who would have thought we would discover savages in a sitting room?" She turned a disapproving look on Darcy and Lord Charles.
Paxton appeared in the doorway. "Good God!" he said, taking in the pistol, the two injured men, and the chaos of his formerly pristine sitting room.
"If this is how noble families behave. I am glad my parents were in trade!"
Lord Charles shot him a killing glare. "This is between Darcy and me."
The Admiral snapped. "Then I suggest you settle it like gentlemen, not street vermin!"
"And I do not wish to hear who started it." the dowager said briskly. "I heard enough of that when you were children."
Lord Charles glared. "This is not over yet. Darcy."
"You know where to find me, but I will warn you that some things have changed since that day four years ago when Richard Fitzwilliam held me back by force from challenging Piper because I was useless with pistols. I learnt my lesson about relying solely on my sword, and now I am quite proficient with pistols as well." Darcy turned a dark look on the dowager. "I wish I had learned that lesson earlier, for then I would have challenged Piper in Edward's place."
"What are you talking about, Darcy?" the dowager said irritably. "Edward was the one who cheated, not you."
Darcy turned very slowly to face her, as if he could not believe what he had heard. "No, madam. I judged the race, and Edward did not cheat."
"That is nonsense. Everyone knows he cheated."
"It is not nonsense, madam. I was there. I was the judge. It was my judgment Piper impugned, as well as Edward's honor. Edward's team was easily half a length ahead of Piper's at the finish. Piper wanted to blame his loss on something other than his ham-handed driving or the team he had spent a small fortune on. Before you accuse me of lying, I suggest you ask Richard Fitzwilliam for the truth of the matter. He witnessed it as well. Or, for that matter, you can ask Edward. He will be in England within the month."
Elizabeth did not see Lord Charles' reaction as dead silence blanketed the room. The usually intrepid Dowager Marchioness turned pale and seemed suddenly unsteady on her feet. Elizabeth slipped a hand under her elbow. "Pray, my lady, you must sit. Allow me to accompany you to the sofa." The older woman followed her directions with unaccustomed meekness. Sitting beside her, Elizabeth said, "Is there anything I can bring you for your present relief? A glass of wine, perhaps, or a vinaigrette?" Not that she had any clue where to find such things at Hillington, but certainly a maid could tell her. Two footmen had already begun righting the fallen furniture.
"I never use vinaigrettes. Vile things," said the Dowager Marchioness, the very idea appearing to restore a little of her usual vitality. "I shall be quite well in a moment."
Paxton approached the dowager. "Thank you for coming, your ladyship. I did not expect to see you so quickly."
"Do you think me too old to manage twenty miles in the saddle?" she asked challengingly.
"Madam, I would not be a bit surprised if you could beat the Prince Regent in his prime in a race."
"Hah! It would be no contest."
Elizabeth glanced up to see Darcy scowling, causing a few drops of blood to gather at the corner of his mouth. With a significant look, she handed him her handkerchief, then touched the same spot on her own face. He grimaced, but blotted the blood away, then tucked the handkerchief in his pocket.
"Darcy, sit down before you fall down," said the Dowager Marchioness.
He remained on his feet, his countenance stormy. "Madam, the only thing I would like from you is a list of those individuals who claim that Edward cheated, as I need to have words with them.
And if you wish for a list of witnesses to the race who can attest that what I say is true, I will be happy to provide it. Sir Francis Leigh was there with his son, as well as Captain Danforth, Lord James Kilbarren, Henry Nash, Oliver Percy, and.
The dowager cut him off. "That is quite enough. Darcy! I take your point, and you may be certain I will be asking my son where he obtained his information. Now, where did Charles go?"
Paxton said, "As far away as possible, I would venture to guess. He stalked out without a word while Miss Bennet was attending to you."
"Then Darcy will have to tell me what induced the two of you to make fools of yourselves at this hour."
Elizabeth dropped her eyes, flushing, as Darcy said, "That would be a discussion better held in private."
"As opposed to Edward's personal affairs?"
"Madam, Edward's duel took place four years ago. I had no reason to think it anything but old news to everyone involved," he said stiffly. "The reason I requested your presence so urgently was on Lady Eleanor's behalf."
The dowager huffed. "Since Charles, Darcy and Edward are already creating mischief today, why should Eleanor be any different? So, what trouble has she discovered for herself this time?"
"Why limit it to us?" said Darcy sardonically, nibbing his chin where a bruise was beginning to emerge. "This started with your son, who decided it would be a clever idea to force Lady Eleanor and me into an engagement which neither of us wanted. That was what led her to run off."
Paxton took up the story next, informing the dowager of the events of the previous evening and Eleanor's injuries. Elizabeth used the opportunity to steal a glance at Mr. Darcy. He was still caught up in his anger, but she only felt the heat of his love. This was quite an unorthodox way to start an engagement, and she would have to tease him about it later.
The Dowager Marchioness listened to the tale without comment, then said, "I will see my granddaughter now. Miss Bennet, perhaps you will be kind enough to take me to her."
"Of course." Elizabeth gave Paxton a teasing look, knowing full well he would have preferred the task, but could not admit to the impropriety of having been in Eleanor's bedchamber in the first place. "She will be glad to see you, and if you could persuade her to take some laudanum, she might be able to sleep a little. She has been refusing it, saying that she cannot afford to be sedated when her parents arrive."
"I always said she was a clever girl. Well, lead on, Miss Bennet."
Chapter 16
Darcy's jaw ached and he suspected that one of his ribs might be broken, given how painful it was to take a deep breath. The knuckles of his right hand throbbed painfully. Carlisle had proved to be a better fighter than he had anticipated. He moved his jaw experimentally from side to side. It could be worse, he supposed.
Paxton shook his head. ''Good Lord, Darcy, what were you thinking to take your eyes off your opponent?"
Darcy sighed. "I am not accustomed to ladies appearing while I am sparring, but perhaps we could discuss the deficiencies in my boxing style another time."
"You are an idiot," said Paxton affectionately. "I am assuming you were not the one to start throwing punches. Dare I ask what set him off?"
"Just the usual."
"The usual? That is not much of an answer." Darcy scowled. "I did not care for his attentions to Miss Bennet, and I told him so."
"And that made him hit you? Remind me to stay away from him in the mornings."
"He has formed an attachment to her, and I made an outrageous and untrue claim. I told him Elizabeth was engaged to me, and implied that she had spent the night in my bed."
"Good Lord, Darcy! I shall have to remember to stay away from you in the mornings as well. So you and Miss Bennet did resolve matters between you last night?"
"No."
"No? But you just said.
"That it was outrageous and untrue. I knew he would be angry, and I wished to make sure I was the one he would lash out at, not Elizabeth."
"Even the engagement part was untrue?"
"You may be assured I would have mentioned it to you if it were otherwise. When did you develop this sudden interest in my views on Miss Bennet?" Paxton cocked his head to the side, looking searchingly at Darcy. "Since your engagement to Eleanor, when Miss Bennet and I discovered we had a great deal
in common."
Darcy allowed a beat or two to pass as he struggled to control a surge of jealousy. "What did you have in common?"
"We both felt betrayed by those we cared for."
"She felt betrayed by me?"
Paxton threw back his head and laughed. "Darcy, have you always been such a slowtop, or is this a new development? Yes, she felt betrayed by you."
"She told you that?"
"There was no need to tell me. I saw her face when Lord Bentham announced your engagement, and I am not a slowtop."
"So you are just guessing at her feelings."
"No," said Paxton with some exasperation.
"She admitted as much to me. Perhaps you should just talk to her instead of quizzing me. I must write to Lord Bentham with an update on Eleanor's condition."
"Better you than me." Darcy examined his sore knuckles. Writing was not something he cared to do at the moment. Still, that would likely be the worst of it had he not been distracted. His boxing skills were not above average, but Carlisle's were worse. As it was, his head was less than clear.
Symons entered, proffering a tray with a calling card. His look suggested he felt that quite enough visitors had been admitted that day already. "A gentleman calling for Mr. Darcy."
Already? Darcy had assumed Carlisle would return, but not so soon. He barely bothered to glance at the calling card and was already rising to his feet when he realized it was not from Carlisle. Snatching it up, he looked at it carefully for a minute to be certain his eyes were not deceiving him. Head injuries could be tricky, after all. But the name remained the same. "Good God, what is Edward doing here?" he asked of no one in particular. "Show him in at once!"
Darcy had longed for Edward's company so often in the last fortnight that he was fully prepared to believe that he had somehow wished him into existence, but the new arrival was unquestionably Edward. A scar now ran down his cheek and he leaned a little on his cane, but Darcy would have known him anywhere. Striding forward, Darcy shook his hand with great warmth. "What a happy surprise! Edward, do you remember Paxton? He was two years behind me at Cambridge."
Mr. Darcy's Noble Connections: A Pride & Prejudice Variation Page 25