Duels of Every Sort

by Sarah Brown

  Caroline completely ignored my last statement and said, “Oh, I do hope he will be able to remain with us for some time. I have always found him a very charming and pleasant gentleman. I am so glad he could attend the ball last evening.”

  I eyed her skeptically. “Yes, well. If you will excuse me, Miss Bingley, my cousin is currently awaiting me downstairs.” I bowed to her and hurried off before she could respond or invite herself along. Oh, God! I knew she had to be up to something to have such a dramatic attitude change, but I had no idea what it could be. The woman was capable of just about anything.

  I reached the ballroom to find a coatless Fitzwilliam warming up with his foil. I shook my head trying to divest Miss Bingley from it and joined him. I removed my coat, and we ran through a few standard patterns to begin. Once we were warm, we began an earnest battle.

  Sparring with Fitzwilliam was like sparring with lightening. With the exception of a few masters in London, there was no one in my acquaintance who could match him for speed. John was an excellent swordsman, but Fitzwilliam was even better. A contest with him took all of my skill and was excellent exercise.

  After several minutes of fierce engagement, Fitzwilliam stepped back and circled a bit. We exchanged brief volleys between feints and footwork, attempting to catch one another off guard. “So, proposed to your Elizabeth yet?” Fitzwilliam asked and then immediately attacked.

  This was a standard tactic that Fitzwilliam had used since we were boys and he discovered I was not so easy to defeat as most. He would try to distract me with provocative or teasing conversation so that I would drop my guard. I had learned to maintain my focus and even return his banter. I deterred his assault and replied, “That is Miss Elizabeth to you, and no, I have not proposed.”

  “Whyever not? Surely you cannot think she would refuse.”

  “No, I do not think she will. But I want her love, not her obligation.” I attacked this time, using the same combination that I had used on Wickham. It was nearly successful, but Fitzwilliam managed to keep hold of his foil and sidestep at the last moment.

  He was breathing hard when he asked, “How long do you intend to wait?”

  “Until I am sure that she feels for me what I do for her.” We briefly crossed swords. Just as I sensed he was about to launch another offensive, I asked, “How long do you intend to keep flirting with Miss Lucas without any serious intentions toward her?” As I intended, Fitzwilliam was thrown off guard, and I attacked again, using a new sequence. Again, he evaded me at the last moment.

  “That is not fair, Will. I was merely being polite.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please spare me, Fitz. You were flirting with her all afternoon just as she was flirting with you.”

  Fitzwilliam shrugged. “Well, I like her, but I have known her barely two days. I am allowed to talk to her, you know.”

  Another volley was exchanged and another stalemate reached. “By all means, talk to her, but be careful about it. Miss Lucas is Elizabeth’s best friend. She—and by extension I—will be very upset if you hurt a young lady she looks on as another sister.”

  “With any luck, I shall be gone in a week anyway. How much can we possibly be in one another’s company between now and then?” He sprang into a series of thrusts and parries that spun about the room. For a full five minutes we engaged in a heated battle, each gaining the advantage only to lose it again. At last, Fitzwilliam found a chink in my defenses and scored at hit.

  Breathing hard and grinning, I acknowledged the hit and we shook hands. “Well done, cousin. That was most enjoyable.”

  “Indeed it was. The both of us so rarely have the opportunity to engage someone with skill equal to our own.” We packed away our swords and headed up to our rooms to wash and change before supper.

  I took the opportunity to see to some of my correspondence. I had been overseeing Pemberley by letter with my excellent steward, Mr. Reynolds, and all was going well. However, I had also been communicating with Mr. Wallace, my steward at Eldersdale, the estate in Scotland, which had come into Darcy hands through my paternal grandmother. It was a prosperous land, bringing a sum of five thousand pounds per year. I intended it, should I be so lucky, for my second son to inherit. Unfortunately, there was currently a dispute regarding a borderline between two tenants, which Mr. Wallace had been unable to resolve. He was a competent steward, but the estate had no real master as I found very few opportunities to visit above once a year.

  A round trip to Scotland would take two weeks at least from Hertfordshire. A trip I had no desire to make. I could not leave Elizabeth just now, nor could I abandon Fitzwilliam before we had collected Wickham. So, for now, I decided that I would give Mr. Reynolds full authority to resolve the matter and dispatch him to Scotland instead. It was a far shorter trip for him from Pemberley, and I had every confidence that he would find the best solution for all concerned.

  I wrote a quick letter explaining the matter and including Mr. Wallace’s information, sealed it, and gave it to a servant to post express before making my way to the dining room. When I entered, it was to find Miss Bingley still acting as cheerfully as she ever was. I thought for a moment that she might have thought to transfer her matrimonial designs from me to Fitzwilliam, but she did not pay him any excessive attention. I could not imagine what could have brought about her drastic alteration in manner, but I was sure I would not like it.

  Though I was not particularly sleepy, I retired early that night, feeling better for having worked off some of the agitation of the day but not inclined to remain in company. I wrote to Georgiana, telling her more of Elizabeth and Mr. Bennet as well as Fitzwilliam’s visit. When I climbed into my bed, I drifted into a peaceful, contented slumber.

  --- --- ---

  The morning after Wickham was due to return, Colonel Forster appeared at Netherfield. Fitzwilliam and I met him in the library. After the usual greetings, I asked, “Has Wickham returned?”

  “No, he has not. That is why I am here,” Forster responded.

  “I beg your pardon?” Fitzwilliam asked.

  “He did not return from leave nor did he send any word of his whereabouts. I have declared him officially absent without leave, and if he does not return soon, he will be labeled a deserter.”

  “That reprehensible lowlife,” I muttered. Louder, I asked, “What is being done?”

  “Well, over the past week as you suggested, I have been speaking with local merchants and the innkeeper. As you suspected he left several debts and would no doubt have amassed more given more time in the area. I also spoke with Lieutenant Denny, who was given the task of seeing that Wickham became familiar with the regiment when he first joined. Apparently, Denny knows very little of Wickham personally. He said that Wickham had been charming and friendly at first, but then became nervous and fidgety after the fencing practice that John Bennet and you, Mr. Darcy, attended. A few days later, Wickham came to me requesting leave to take care of some business in London. As I had no reason to distrust him at the time, I allowed him to go. Now he has not returned, and I have not the least idea where he may be.”

  I could have run myself through at that moment. Instead of simply intimidating Wickham, I had pushed him to run off and now had no idea of his whereabouts or his plans. Had I simply left him alone, he may have stayed in Hertfordshire until Fitzwilliam arrived to remove him. I stared angrily out the window.

  Fitzwilliam was pacing the rug in front of the hearth. “All right,” he said. “We know that he is most likely in London. Darcy, I cannot feel comfortable not knowing where he is, given his recent behavior, the lies that he spread before leaving the area, and his knowledge of your connection to the Bennets.”

  “No, I do not feel comfortable either. What do you suggest?”

  “Well, if we can find him, we can be rid of him once and for all. The army does not look kindly upon deserters. Australia would be my favorite option. I believe I should write to my contacts in London and begin a search for him.”


  “Australia sounds perfect. Do you really think you can find him?” I asked.

  “It may take a while, but I am sure my men can locate him. Colonel Forster, you said that Wickham had left you with an address in London?” Forster nodded and handed Fitzwilliam a piece of paper. “While I doubt he is still there, if he was ever there at all, we’ll start with that house, and then we’ll move on to Mrs. Younge.” His eyes glinted with malice, and I was sure mine held a similar expression. “Meanwhile, I shall remain here in the event that Wickham returns.”

  Forster nodded and rose from his seat. “Very well, gentlemen. I shall leave this to you, since you seem to have it well in hand. If I discover anything more, I will contact you immediately, and I should like to know of any progress you make.”

  Forster took his leave and Fitzwilliam sat down to the writing desk. He wrote one letter to Colonel Blackburn in Newcastle informing him that Wickham would not be joining him after all and another to a contact in London, the identity of which I did not know. When both letters had been dispatched express, he, Bingley, and I headed to Longbourn to apprise Mr. Bennet, John, and Elizabeth of the new developments.

  When I arrived, it was to receive another most unexpected shock. The day was turning out to be rather unpleasant. As Bingley Fitzwilliam, and I approached, we saw a very large and opulent carriage parked near the front door. Upon closer inspection, I realized with alarm that I recognized the livery of the footman as that of Rosings Park, the home of my formidable aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. The same aunt who had been under the delusion, despite all my efforts to correct her assumption, that I would marry her daughter, my cousin Anne, and unite the great estate of Rosings with Pemberley. I exchanged an apprehensive glance with Fitzwilliam.

  We rode up to the door and I dismounted, tossing Strider’s reigns to a stable boy. I was about to go into the house, when I heard a quiet, “Will,” issue from the carriage. I turned to see that my cousin Anne, bundled up against the cold so much as to be almost unrecognizable, was sitting in the carriage.

  “Anne, what you doing here? Where is your mother?” In my concern over the havoc I knew my aunt was capable of creating, I forgot my manners and addressed her rather more brusquely than I had intended.

  “Mama received a letter yesterday saying that you had entered into a courtship with a Miss Elizabeth Bennet and became enraged. She set off for Hertfordshire immediately, and—“ she broke off in a fit of coughing. Anne had always been a sickly sort, one of the reasons she would not make a suitable mistress for Pemberley. I had always felt sorry for her. She had never desired marriage to me, so I did not fear giving her pain with my attachment to Elizabeth, but I did feel for her situation in what amounted to captivity under her mother’s thumb.

  Fitzwilliam approached now and caught my attention. “Fitz, you didn’t write to Aunt Catherine, did you?”

  “No, of course not. Anne, who sent the letter?” He looked as puzzled and outraged as I to discover our least favorite relative at my intended’s home.

  Anne, recovered from her fit, replied, “Oh, hello, Richard. I did not know you were in Hertfordshire, too.”

  Fitzwilliam shook his head in an agitated manner. “Yes, I have been here about a week. But, Anne, who sent the letter?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Where is your mother now?” I asked, forcefully.

  John appeared through the door to the house then, visibly upset. “Your aunt requested a private audience with Lizzy and led her to the wilderness garden on the side of the house, Will. There was no way I could stop it.”

  “Oh, God! How long have they been out there?” I cried.

  “Some time,” John responded.

  Fitzwilliam said, “You had better go, Darcy. I will stay here with Anne until you return with Aunt Catherine.”

  As I headed around the house, I heard Bingley say, “I think I’ll go inside and see what I can learn from Jane.”

  I approached at a quick pace, but as I drew near the enclosed wilderness area I heard a little of the exchange between Elizabeth and my aunt, which seemed to have been going on for some time judging by what I could make out. Argument may have been a more appropriate term. Lady Catherine fairly shouted, “Tell me once and for all, are you engaged to him?”

  Elizabeth calmly replied, “I am not.”

  In a slightly more controlled tone, Lady Catherine demanded, “And will you promise me never to enter in to such an arrangement?”

  “I will make no promise of the kind.” Elizabeth’s voice was firm and cool. “Lady Catherine, you have insulted me by every possible method. I must beg to return to the house.”

  “Not so hasty if you please!” Lady Catherine called out. As I drew to the archway that led into the garden, Elizabeth appeared. Her eyes found mine, and she froze in her tracks. I could see that she was very upset, her eyes flashing with fury—a distant part of my mind noted that her eyes were even more extraordinary when she was angry. The outrage that was already pulsing through my veins at Lady Catherine’s presumptuous interference in my affairs boiled all the hotter.

  Lady Catherine had not yet seen me and continued her harangue, “I have not done! Unfeeling, selfish girl! You refuse to oblige me! Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?”

  “Aunt Catherine!” I shouted. “That is enough!” I reached Elizabeth and whispered to her, “I am so sorry.” Then I took her hand in my own and turned to my aunt.

  “Nephew! So it is true. Have you lost your senses, boy? It is disgraceful to be dallying with this little country girl when you are engaged to my daughter.” Her usually pinched features were further contorted with anger. The feathers of her bonnet flapped wildly as she wielded her cane like a sword.

  “I said that is enough, Aunt Catherine.” I deliberately kept my voice cool and even. I could not allow my anger to gain control of my tongue. “I am not now, nor have I ever been, engaged to Anne. Neither she nor I are by inclination or honor bound to one another.”

  “How dare you speak to me so? It was my favorite wish as well as your mother’s. Anne has long set her hopes on it.”

  “I told you to be silent, Aunt.” My eyes flashed dangerously at her, which seemed to break through her arrogant sense of superiority just barely. “As I have told you on more than one occasion, Anne has never desired to marry me nor I her. We are cousins and nothing more. Perhaps you should try speaking with your daughter rather than dictating to her.” For once, Lady Catherine seemed to be shocked momentarily silent. I could not believe her behavior. How could I have ever considered Elizabeth’s relations unsuitable when my own aunt was so clearly ill bred?

  I took a breath and continued, “As for your presence at Longbourn, I do not know how you learned of my courtship with Elizabeth, but it is none of your concern. Your appearance here is officious in the extreme. I do not require your approval or anyone else’s to enter into a courtship or an engagement or matrimony.”

  I drew Elizabeth closer to my side and entwined her arm with mine. “And, finally, your treatment of Elizabeth is abhorrent. If you were upset, Aunt, you should have spoken to me. You had no business appearing unannounced and uninvited at Longbourn. I demand that you apologize for your offensive tone, unfounded accusations, and unwarranted interference in the affairs of a lady entirely unconnected with you.”

  Lady Catherine’s shock rekindled into ire and she cried, “I will do nothing of the sort! Do you know who I am? I will not stoop to coddle the feelings a silly and inferior girl who—“

  “Stop!” I yelled. “If you will not apologize, you will leave this property immediately and return to Rosings, which you should never have left in the first place.”

  “This is not to be born!” She screeched, though she at last began to move toward the front of the house. “I shall go to your uncle and see what he has to say on the matter.”

  “Be my guest! While I do not require his approval, I do not believe he will withhold his blessing.” I gestured for Elizabeth to re
main in the garden and then followed my aunt to ensure she went straight to her carriage.

  She continued to huff and stutter until she reached the driveway. Upon seeing Fitzwilliam speaking with Anne, she demanded, without so much as a greeting, “I see you are here, too, Richard. You will call for your horse and accompany me! I am going to see your father in London this instant.”

  “Forgive me, Aunt Catherine, but I will do no such thing. If you wish to speak to my father, please do. I will have nothing to do with this matter. It is Darcy’s choice and one I happen to approve wholeheartedly.”

  Lady Catherine glared, first at Fitzwilliam and then at me. “Has the world lost its senses? I take no leave of any of you. None of you deserve such a compliment. I am most seriously displeased!” With that, she stormed into her carriage, tapped the roof to signal the driver, and disappeared down the lane.

  I sighed and ran my hands through my hair. How could this have happened? I clapped Fitzwilliam on the back and said, “Thank you for your support, Fitz. I appreciate it more than you know.”

  “Of course. I cannot believe that Aunt Catherine had the gall to show up here. Is Miss Elizabeth well?”

  I wearily shook my head. “I don’t know. I left her in the garden to make sure Aunt Catherine departed.” I turned to John. “I am sorry for this, John. I cannot apologize enough.”

  “It is not me to whom you should apologize, Darcy. Go and see to Lizzy.”

  I nodded and moved off around the house again. When I reached the archway to enter the wilderness, the vision that met me tore at my heart. Elizabeth was sitting on a stone bench staring at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap, while tears streamed silently down her cheeks. I moved to stand before her and quietly implored, “Elizabeth?”