Duels of Every Sort

by Sarah Brown

  “At first light,” I went on, “we crept out of the house, avoiding detection by the servants, until we reached the outdoors. Once there, we packed one bucket with snow and the other with carefully formed snowballs.”

  “Then we braved the hallways of Matlock again until we reached my brother’s room.” As Fitzwilliam kept on, I could see that Elizabeth was trying very hard not to laugh aloud at the tone the story had taken, as if it were a great caper, rather than two boys playing a prank. “Then as quietly as possible, we rigged the bucket of snow over the doorway to James’ room, and covered it with insulation so that it would not melt until he opened the door.

  “Shortly thereafter, James came out and was drenched by the bucket of snow over the doorway and then bombarded by a barrage of snowballs thrown by Darcy and I from the cover of the doorway to my room across the hallway.”

  Everyone laughed, and Elizabeth asked, “And what was the result of this daring campaign?”

  “A very wet and red James and a very stern Earl of Matlock,” Fitzwilliam told her.

  “Suffice it to say,” I added, “that we were not Father Christmas’ favorite pair that year.”

  Everyone laughed again. “You were quite the little mischief maker as a child, devising schemes to drench your poor unsuspecting cousin,” Elizabeth grinned at me.

  I raised my eyebrows at her. “Well, I did have Fitz’s poor influence working on me. I could not be expected to resist his wicked persuasion.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled with mirth as she gazed at me, her chin cupped in her hand and an alluring smile on her lips. I gazed back, my own lips curling upward. God, but I was completely lost to her.

  We were brought back to the present by Miss Lucas saying, “Well, Colonel, if you are Mr. Darcy’s excuse, I cannot imagine what Lizzy’s will be.” She smiled and spoke to Elizabeth, “After all Lizzy, you were always the commander of adventures in this neighborhood.”

  “And what sort of mischief did Miss Elizabeth make? For I believe it is her turn to be exposed,” I asked.

  “Oh, Charlotte,” said Jane. “Do you remember the Frog Incident?”

  Charlotte laughed, but Elizabeth cried, “No, not the Frog Incident.”

  “Oh, no. I definitely must hear the Frog Incident,” I told her. “You cannot escape.”

  “Well,” began Charlotte. “Lizzy must have been about eight years old at the time. My family and the Bennets were all out on a picnic near a local pond. Lizzy and my younger brothers had run off somewhere as they were always doing. Well, unbeknownst to the rest of the party, Lizzy had decided that it would be just the thing to catch a few frogs, and my brothers, being boys, agreed. They were gone for about half an hour when I was sent to call them back to eat. I found them all covered in mud and up to their ankles in the pond. Well, naturally I scolded them and dragged them back to the picnic.”

  Here Jane interjected, “Mama was beside herself when she saw the state of Lizzy’s dress. It was new, and she had warned Lizzy not to ruin it straight away. Papa just started laughing and patted her on the head as he always did. He usually thought her misadventures highly entertaining.”

  John continued, a huge grin on his face, “So when Mama had finished scolding Lizzy and Lady Lucas had cleaned her and the boys up as best they could, we all sat down to our picnic. What we did not know was that Lizzy had, indeed, caught a frog. And, after going to all that trouble, she hadn’t wanted to let it go just yet. So, when Charlotte appeared to call them for lunch, she had stuck the frog in her pocket.”

  By now everyone was laughing. I could see that, had Elizabeth and I known each other as children, we would have gotten along famously. She appeared to have been quite the tomboy. Charlotte concluded, “About ten minutes after we began to eat, we heard a croak coming from Lizzy. Mrs. Bennet scolded her to stop making silly noises, but the sound continued. Then all of a sudden a large green mass hurtled out of her pocket and straight onto the tray of sandwiches. Mama and Mrs. Bennet shrieked, Mr. Bennet laughed, and my brothers went scrambling about after the frog upending lemonade and all manner of dishes until it was finally wrangled and released back at the pond.”

  Elizabeth’s cheeks were a bright red, but she was laughing along with the rest of us. “Suffice it to say, that was the end of the picnic, and Mama did not speak to me again for a week except to say how unruly I was.”

  Everyone had a good laugh, and we continued to swap stories of our childhood adventures climbing trees and launching attacks on our relations. Elizabeth took her revenge on Charlotte, and I regaled the party with an anecdote involving Fitzwilliam, a snake, and a very un-amused Lady Catherine.

  At last, supper was over, and we returned to the ballroom for the final few dances of the evening. Fitzwilliam danced with Elizabeth and Miss Bennet and Miss Lucas again for the final dance. I led Elizabeth to the floor to close the ball along with Bingley and Miss Bennet. When Elizabeth finally left, I had to content myself with a kiss on her hand and an assurance that I would see her tomorrow.

  --- --- ---

  Bingley, Fitzwilliam, and I retired to the study once the last guests had gone. After passing around snifters of brandy, Bingley said, “Well, I daresay that went very well! I had such a pleasant time, and all the guests seemed to enjoy themselves.”

  “Indeed, Charles,” I replied. “I cannot ever remember enjoying a ball so much as I did tonight. It was very well done.”

  Fitzwilliam chuckled. “I rather think that had to do more with the presence of a certain young lady than anything else. Honestly Darce, I have never seen you in such a state. Your eyes followed Miss Elizabeth about like a lost puppy tonight. I found it highly entertaining. I cannot wait for the rest of the family to see you. My father shall go quite distracted with glee.”

  The Earl of Matlock was rather more like his younger son than his elder. He took his position in society very seriously, but was generally a jovial sort. I was not overly concerned that he would disapprove of Elizabeth once he met her. Fitzwilliam seemed to share my opinion, which gave me comfort. “I make no excuses, Fitz. I am a lost puppy where Elizabeth is concerned.”

  Fitzwilliam laughed again and said, “You seem to have rubbed off on him, Bingley, for I have seen you with such a look more than once. Though, I must say, you seem more besotted with Ms. Bennet than I have ever seen you. I cannot blame you. Both the Miss Bennets are lovely.”

  “Well, thank you, Fitzwilliam. I freely admit that I am hopelessly in love with Jane. I have never felt for any other young lady as I do for her. She is an angel.”

  I rolled my eyes at Fitzwilliam, and he grinned back. “Speaking of lovely young ladies. You seemed quite taken with one this evening yourself, Fitz.”

  He merely shrugged and said, “I found Miss Lucas charming. I quite like her, actually, but it is of no importance as I intend to collect Wickham and be on my way tomorrow.”

  “Yes, I suppose that is just as well. Miss Lucas has no fortune, in any case, and you need one.” Fitzwilliam just shrugged again and stared into the fire.

  Conversation continued about the ball for a while longer before I retired for the evening. I fell asleep that night with visions of Elizabeth dancing, or laughing, or child sized and covered with mud dancing in my head. I knew I ought not propose yet. We had only been courting for about a fortnight, but I wondered how much longer I must wait.

  Chapter Eight

  The next morning, Bingley left Netherfield for Longbourn while Fitzwilliam and I headed to the militia’s encampment to speak with Colonel Forster and collect Wickham to begin his trip to the north. When we arrived and made our identity known to the colonel’s assistant, we were immediately admitted to his presence. Forster rose as we entered his office and extended his hand to Fitzwilliam, saying, “Colonel Fitzwilliam, I must say this is a surprise and an honor. I had not thought to have such a distinguished member of the regulars come to visit my little band of militia men.”

  “It is good to meet you, Colonel Forster,” F
itzwilliam returned Forster’s gesture. “I believe you know my cousin, Mr. Darcy.”

  “Indeed I do! One of the finest swordsmen it has been my pleasure to meet. Gave a few of my lieutenants a good workout.” Forster, as always, was jolly that morning. He smiled freely and shook my hand as well, inviting us to sit in the armchairs across from his seat at his desk. He then spoke of the marvelous time he and his young wife had been treated to at the ball the night before, and the three of us engaged in the meaningless small talk that usually passes between gentlemen for several minutes. At last, Forster got down to business and asked, “What can I do for you gentlemen today?”

  Fitzwilliam pulled Wickham’s transfer papers from his pocket and handed them to Forster. “I am afraid I am here to collect one of your men. He has been transferred to a regiment in Newcastle.”

  “Really?” Forster’s features registered his surprise as he broke the seal on the documents and perused them. “Colonel Blackburn’s regiment? Is he not well known for his stern command?”

  “To put it politely,” Fitzwilliam answered with a shrewd look of satisfaction.

  Forster finished reading the transfer papers and looked up at Fitzwilliam and I, studying us both for a moment. He may have been an easy commander and a generally jolly sort, but he was by no means unintelligent. After seeming to consider his words, he ventured, “As you may well understand, I am rather curious as to why Wickham is being transferred and to such a regiment, as well as why a well known battle hero and a very influential and wealthy gentlemen have taken such an interest in the matter. A lieutenant’s transfer does not usually warrant such attention.”

  I looked Forster in the eye and replied, “I asked my cousin to affect a transfer for Wickham when I learned he was in Meryton.”

  Fitzwilliam added, “And I am afraid I do not trust the man to make it all the way to Newcastle by himself.”

  Forster’s eyebrows shot up, “Do not trust him?”

  “No, to be frank,” I told him. I gave him a brief retelling of Wickham’s past, leaving out many names and specifics. Forster listened attentively, his surprise as he listened turning to anger. I concluded, “My cousin can provide you proof of these events if you should require it. I would also advise you to check with the merchants in Meryton. Wickham may have only been here a few weeks, but I am sure he has had time already to run up a tab at the inn at least, if not with some others. And, I should think that he probably has a number a gaming debts with your other officers by this time.”

  Forster passed a hand over his brow, considering all that I had said. Fitzwilliam continued, “So, in light of this information, I should not think that you would protest the transfer, Colonel. I should rather think you would be grateful to have such a man out of your regiment and off your hands.”

  Forster nodded absently and toyed with the transfer on the desk before him. Finally, he said, “Forgive me, gentlemen. I am afraid I am having a difficult time reconciling what I know of the man with what you have told me. I had liked him, quite a lot actually, and have heard no bad of him since he joined my outfit. How could we all have been so taken in by him?”

  “Wickham is a master of disguise, Colonel Forster. You need not be unduly hard on yourself for liking him,” I offered. “Only long experience has taught Fitzwilliam and I what he truly is. Wickham is generally able to ingratiate himself where it suits him. Only after he has left a trail of destruction do people understand his true nature.”

  “Yes,” he said impatiently. “But if this is the case, why has he not been apprehended or sent off somewhere? Why has he been allowed to remain in England to do more harm?”

  “I am afraid that is my doing,” I stated. “I had not seen Wickham for a number of years until last summer, the events of which prevented me from properly disposing of him. I have great hopes that Colonel Blackburn will be able to deal with him adequately after being informed of Wickham’s past.”

  “And you are here to collect Wickham?” Forster asked Fitzwilliam.

  “Yes, and I should like to depart immediately. If you could summon Wickham and order him to pack his things, we can be off before luncheon.”

  Again, Forster passed a hand over his forehead in frustration. “I am afraid I cannot accommodate you. Wickham came to me several days ago with a request for leave, which I saw no reason to deny. I believe he went to London and is not due back for another week.”

  “Blast!” Fitzwilliam raked an agitated hand through his hair. I rose from my seat and began pacing the length of the room.

  “I am sorry gentlemen, but there seems to be little I can do for you today.”

  Fitzwilliam and I joined in a brief conference. Forster had the name of the house at which Wickham was staying in London, but we decided it was better not to try to apprehend him there. It was far easier to hide in the city than in Hertfordshire, and if he should get wind of his transfer beforehand, and just who had come to supervise his journey, he might flee. “Can you wait for him to return, Fitz, and then escort him north? Does your leave extend thus far?”

  “Well, yes,” he admitted. “But I had planned to visit Matlock after I dropped Wickham on Colonel Blackburn’s doorstep.” He ran a hand through his hair again and sighed. “I suppose there is nothing else for it, though. I shall stay at Netherfield until he returns, and then we shall both depart for Newcastle.”

  I nodded and turned back to Forster. “Colonel, I think it would be best if this matter remained between the three of us until Wickham returns. He is unlikely to appreciate my interference or Fitzwilliam’s, and I think will be even less agreeable when he learns to which regiment he has been reassigned.”

  Forster mentally appraised the situation for a moment before replying, “Very well, I agree. I shall send you word at Netherfield as soon as Wickham returns.”

  “Excellent,” I told him. Fitzwilliam and I shook Forster’s hand and took our leave. We mounted our horses and headed for Longbourn. When we were a good distance from the encampment, I vented, “Of all the rotten luck! If I did not know better, I should think Wickham planned this. Am I never to be rid of the louse?”

  “It is unfortunate, but Wickham could hardly be avoiding me by design. He did not know I was coming.”

  “That is true, but his behavior is unfathomable to me. I made it clear to him that he should stay away from the Bennets, and he knows very well that I am well known in the area and friendly with all the prominent families. So, why would he spread lies to Miss Lydia and then leave the area?”

  “Perhaps he was afraid of your reaction when you learned what he had poisoned Miss Lydia with. He probably just could not resist, when he realized how gullible she is.” Fitzwilliam had met the silly girl last night and had been as unimpressed as I. He shrugged. “By the way, I would have loved to see your ‘warning’. I am sure you had quite a good time.”

  “Oh, indeed I did,” I smirked at him. “My only regret was that I only had a practice foil in my hand and not a broadsword.”

  Fitzwilliam laughed. “Well, in any case, speculation is fruitless. There is nothing to be done but wait for his return. Let us forget him until then. I am sure you would rather focus on the lovely pair of eyes that await you at Longbourn.”

  I smiled, but the smile quickly faded. “Unfortunately, I cannot forget Wickham just yet. I still owe Mr. Bennet and Elizabeth an explanation of our history. I cannot avoid it after what Wickham told Miss Lydia.”

  “I would be happy to stand as witness for you to verify anything the Bennets may be uncertain about.”

  “Thank you, I do appreciate your company on this visit,” I replied.

  --- --- ---

  When we arrived at Longbourn, we found the girls engaged in what was apparently a post ball tradition. The two Lucas sisters had come for a morning visit, and all of the ladies were recalling and analyzing the events of the ball in great detail. Mrs. Bennet, the servant informed me, was visiting her sister Phillips in town for the same purpose.

  When
Fitzwilliam and I entered the room, we were treated to an itemized list of all the decorative lace that had adorned Miss Bingley’s gown as recounted by Miss Lydia. Neither the gentlemen of the house nor Bingley were anywhere to be seen—not that I could blame them if lace were the current topic.

  “Oh, Mr. Darcy!” Elizabeth cried, when she saw us. “And Colonel Fitzwilliam, how lovely to see you both this morning. We were just reminiscing about last night’s festivities.”

  I took Elizabeth’s hand and kissed it. Greetings were exchanged all around. I noted the particular manner in which Fitzwilliam greeted Miss Lucas. I hoped his extended visit would not cause difficulties for him. Miss Lucas seemed very glad to see him, as well.

  When we had all settled in and Miss Maria and Miss Lydia had resumed their previous discussion regarding gown ornamentation, I asked Elizabeth, “Where is Charles? I know he rode here this morning.”

  “Oh, he and John escaped on the heels of my father to the library a few minutes before you appeared amidst cries of ‘No lace, Lydia! I beg you, no lace!’”

  I laughed at this picture. If the topic continued, I could easily see myself seeking refuge, too. However, after a few minutes, Miss Lydia and Miss Maria decided to walk back to Lucas Lodge together for some silly reason or other. Miss Lucas remained, engrossed in conversation by now with Miss Bennet and Fitzwilliam—or rather, just with Fitzwilliam as Miss Bennet was being pleasant but quiet, as was her wont when anyone but Bingley or Elizabeth was about.

  “And how are you this morning, Will?” Elizabeth asked.