Duels of Every Sort

by Sarah Brown

  “Oh, nothing,” she said with an air of innocence. “I just wanted to make sure your cousin was not subjected to mine any more than necessary.”

  I chuckled at her, and she described her morning in company with both Mr. Collins and her mother and the absurdity that resulted. She said she was very grateful that Mr. Collins had indicated his stay would be quite short—after he had seen the cat that bore his name.

  When the cold began to seep through my clothing despite Elizabeth’s warmth and I knew we would have to return to the house soon, I pulled away from her. “I have something for you.”

  She looked up at me with her big, bright eyes. “For me?”

  I smiled, “Yes, for you,” and pulled a small velvet box from my pocket. “I asked Georgianna to send this for you. It arrived yesterday.” She looked from me to the box in my hand. “Open it.”

  She took the box and slowly lifted the lid, revealing a simple gold band inset with tiny diamonds and sapphires that alternated around the entire circumference. She gasped, “Oh, Will.”

  I took the box from her hand and removed the ring, setting the box aside. I held the ring between us as I told her, “This was my grandmother’s ring. She and I were very close when I was a boy. She left it to me to give to my bride.” I looked into Elizabeth’s eyes as I kissed the ring and slipped it onto the third finger of her left hand then kissed her hand.

  She whispered, “It is beautiful, Will. I am honored.”

  “No, Elizabeth. I am honored that you accepted me.”

  Her eyes sparkled all the brighter. I gathered her into my arms, and we held each other. “I love you,” she whispered in my ear.

  --- --- ---

  That evening, the Bennets and the Lucases came to Netherfield to dine, a circumstance that Miss Bingley thoroughly detested but about which she could do nothing. When the Bennets arrived, I was treated to Mrs. Bennet’s raptures about the ring I had given Elizabeth that morning. “Oh, such a beautiful little thing, Mr. Darcy! And your grandmothers, too! My Lizzy is so lucky! What a fine match!”

  Mr. Bennet winked at me then grasped his wife by the arm and dragged her past me into the drawing room. I chuckled as I watched them then turned to find Elizabeth. Unfortunately, I was assaulted yet again, this time by Mr. Collins—and sadly, not the furry one. “Mr. Darcy, while we have a moment, I really must advise you that your esteemed aunt and my patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, does not looked kindly upon your engagement. Indeed, I cannot but agree with her that the Bennet family is very far below your connections with the noble houses of de Bourgh and Fitzwilliam. Miss Elizabeth would be far better suited to be the wife of a simple parson like myself. For your own sake—“

  “That will be quite enough, Mr. Collins,” I told him curtly. “If your sole purpose for appearing so unexpectedly in Hertfordshire is to try to disrupt my engagement at my aunt’s request, then I suggest you depart immediately. You will not be successful in your office. I will marry Elizabeth regardless of what my aunt may think of the union.”

  Mr. Collins began his obsequious bowing again. “But Mr. Darcy, surely you see—“

  Again, Mr. Bennet appeared to intervene. He rolled his eyes at me this time as he grasped Mr. Collins by the arm in much the same manner he had Mrs. Bennet and began to drag him off, as well. As he went, I heard him mutter, “I told you, Mr. Collins, not to interfere in my future son-in-law’s affairs. Console Lady Catherine as you can, but I would stick by the nephew if I were you. He has more to give.”

  I chuckled and turned back toward the drawing room door where Elizabeth had been caught in conversation with Bingely and Miss Bennet. I sighed and smiled at her as she extricated herself from their group and made her way to me. I took her hand and kissed it. “Good evening, Elizabeth. You look lovely tonight.”

  “Thank you, my love.” How I loved hearing her direct those words at me. “I am sorry about my mother and Mr. Collins.”

  I shook my head. “Do not concern yourself. They mean well, in their own odd ways.”

  She smiled and looked about the room, “Where are Miss Bingley and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst?”

  “They should be down shortly. Miss Bingley is still having trouble reconciling herself to our engagement, particularly since Lady Catherine was unable to deter it.”

  Elizabeth nodded, and Fitzwilliam approached us to greet her. The three of us made pleasant conversation for several minutes until the Lucases arrived. They were shown into the drawing room and various greetings and introductions to Mr. Collins were made. After a few minutes, the company separated into its usual groupings. Elizabeth and I sat with Fitzwilliam and Miss Lucas—they were as inseparable tonight as they had been since the ball—near the fire discussing literature. Bingley and Miss Bennet stood nearby conversing privately. Mrs. Bennet and Lady Lucas began gossiping while the younger Lucases—Miss Maria and her two older brothers—and Miss Lydia kept them company. Mr. Bennet and Sir William merely observed, the one amused and the other delighted.

  Mr. Collins seemed out of place and hovered between the groups, offering ridiculous opinions and spouting absurd praise for my aunt at every opportunity. He tried to convince Fitzwilliam of the folly of my engagement, as well. Fitzwilliam, more or less, told him to bugger off.

  At last, Miss Bingley and the Hursts appeared. Mr. Hurst, as was his wont, disappeared into a corner of the room, while Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley made insincere apologies for not being present when the guests arrived. What followed was, quite possibly, one of the most perversely amusing things I have ever seen.

  Mr. Collins had been comparing the chimneypiece that I was currently sitting near to one at Rosings Park when Miss Bingley came in. Mr. Collins looked up and was apparently struck silent. His mouth gaped wide like a fish, and he appeared to be quite speechless—the only time the entire day that I had seen him so. Elizabeth and I exchanged puzzled glances.

  Now, I will admit that Miss Bingley is a physically attractive woman, if not in any other way. She has the same golden curls that adorn her brother’s head and clear blue eyes. She is tall, and her figure is light and pleasing; except for the feathers she insists on wearing, she always dresses to her best advantage. However, I did not think that she warranted quite the reaction Mr. Collins had. He whispered, loudly enough for everyone near the hearth to hear, “Who is that heavenly creature, Miss Elizabeth?”

  Elizabeth blinked at him. “That is Miss Caroline Bingley, Mr. Bingley’s sister and our hostess for tonight.”

  “That is Miss Bingley? Why Lady Catherine spoke most highly of her, but I had not heard that she was such an attractive young lady.”

  By now, Bingley was staring back and forth between Mr. Collins and Miss Bingley, who was greeting Sir William, Lady Lucas, and Elizabeth’s parents, and had not yet seen Collins’ stare, though he was practically leering at her in his toady way. Bingley caught my eye and raised a questioning eyebrow in Collins’ direction—as far as he knew Miss Bingley had never met Lady Catherine. I merely shrugged—I knew exactly how that connection had been formed but still had no proof of it.

  At last, Miss Bingley made her way to our group by the fire to greet the rest of her guests. Elizabeth rose and said, “Miss Bingley, may I present my cousin, the Reverend Mr. Collins, who arrived at Longbourn from Hunsford in Kent just this morning.”

  Miss Bingley curtsied very properly and offered Collins her hand. He bowed so low that I thought for a moment he might topple over. “It is an honor to meet you, Miss Bingley, and thank you so much for your condescension in allowing me to join your party on such short notice. I assure you, your kindness is greatly felt.”

  Miss Bingley pulled her hand from his grasp as he continued to bow over it, eyeing him in a manner that suggested she was unsure whether to sneer, smile, or just ignore this strange Bennet relation. She apparently decided to give at least the appearance of politeness. “I assure you it is no trouble, Mr. Collins. I am happy that you could join us.”

  She was nearly six inches t
aller than Collins, who stood too close to her and stared up in abject adoration. Miss Bingley stared down in confusion and tried to edge away from him. He began going on about how well Lady Catherine thought of her and how delighted he was that he would be able to report having met her to his noble patroness. Elizabeth and I dared not look at one another, and Fitzwilliam was forced to conceal his amusement behind a fit of coughing.

  Miss Bingley began taking small steps toward her brother, perhaps in the hope that he would help her get rid of Collins, but he followed her all the way as the rest of us watched. I caught Mr. Bennet’s eye across the room—he was not trying to conceal his amusement at all, a big smile spread across his face.

  Just as Miss Bingley turned to address her brother, the butler entered to announce dinner and relief washed visibly over her features. She announced, “Supper is ready. If everyone will please make their way into the dining room, we can begin immediately.”

  It was clear that she expected Bingley to escort her, but both he and Collins had other ideas. Miss Bennet had taken Bingley’s arm, earning a glare from Miss Bingley that intensified ten fold when Collins asked, “Miss Bingley, would you do me the immense honor of allowing me to escort you into dinner?” She had no choice but to accept politely.

  Once in the dining room, Miss Bingley’s glare refocused on me as she saw the seating arrangements. I had asked Bingley earlier to please check on the placements Miss Bingley had chosen as I knew she would try to make the evening as uncomfortable for Elizabeth and I as possible. It turned out that I was right. Had Bingley not rearranged things, I would have spent the entire meal between Mrs. Bennet and Lady Lucas with Miss Lydia seated across from me. However, much to everyone but Miss Bingley’s delight, I was now next to Elizabeth and surrounded by Fitzwilliam, Mr. Bennet, Miss Lucas, Bingley and Miss Bennet at one end of the table. Miss Bingley was at the other end, Mr. Collins to her right.

  With such dinner companions, the evening turned out to be a study in self-control as we amused ourselves by watching Collins fawn in every possible manner over Miss Bingley between rounds of lively debate over the most recent events in France. No matter how Miss Bingley tried to dismiss him or deflect his attentions elsewhere, he persisted in showering her with all manner of compliments, describing in detail his humble parsonage, or cataloguing the furnishings in the larger drawing room of Rosings Park.

  When the gentlemen rejoined the ladies following cigars and port after supper, Collins immediately sought Miss Bingley out again and, for all intents and purposes, glued himself to her side for the rest of the evening. By the time the Longbourn party left Netherfield that evening, Miss Bingley was quite out of sorts after such undivided attention from so odious a man. I rather felt she had gotten her punishment for her ill-conceived letter to my aunt—though I felt it was a pity that Mr. Collins would be leaving in just two days, having failed in his primary mission of separating Elizabeth and me. It would have been diverting to watch Miss Bingley squirm a bit longer.

  --- --- ---

  As it happened, two days was plenty of time for Mr. Collins to bother Miss Bingley further. Fitzwilliam and I were reading in the library the morning that Collins was to depart, passing the time until the day reached an appropriate hour that I could call at Longbourn, when Bingley came a wide grin on his face and threw himself into an armchair. “You will never believe the interview I just had.”

  “What has happened?” Fitzwilliam asked.

  “Mr. Collins just asked me for permission to make his addresses to Caroline! He met her once at a dinner, and now the man wants to marry her!”

  I blinked at him. “What did you say to him?”

  “What did he say to you?” Fitzwilliam wanted to know.

  “He went on and on about how enchanting he found her and how beautiful she is and how highly Lady Catherine had spoken of her—which I still don’t understand as Caroline has never met Lady Catherine.” Fitzwilliam and I exchanged a glance but let it pass. “He must have spoken without pausing for breath for a full five minutes, bowing and fidgeting the whole while. When I could finally get a word in edgewise, I told him that it was Caroline’s choice to make, and he went off in search of her.”

  I chuckled at the picture Bingley painted and imagined the conversation Miss Bingley must now be having. We did not have to wait long to learn the result. A few minutes later, an incensed shriek was heard through the house and footsteps came pounding down the hallway. The library door flew open and Miss Bingley stormed in, Mr. Collins in her wake. “Charles!” she demanded. “This man says that you have given him your permission to marry me!”

  Bingley stood and held up his hands in defense, “Now, Caroline. I merely gave him my permission to ask you. I told him it was your decision.”

  Miss Bingley’s face was an unhealthy shade of umber, while Mr. Collins was a pasty green as he bobbed and bowed behind her. “But, my dear Miss Bingley! You must see! My connection to the noble house of de Bourgh, my comfortable situation at Hunsford, my cousin’s upcoming marriage to the nephew of my patroness, these are all circumstances highly in my favor. I am sure you can have no real objection when such an offer is before you. Lady Catherine will pay you every kindness, and you will be always treated with such gracious condescension from that house. No, I must attribute your refusal to your wish of increasing my love by suspense, in the usual manner of elegant females.”

  Miss Bingley had not even turned to look at him. Her fists were clenched in annoyance and her eyes blazed in anger. She had not noticed Fitzwilliam and I ensconced in a couple of armchairs in a somewhat secluded corner of the room. She glared at Bingley who gazed at Collins passively, avoiding Miss Bingley’s scorching eyes.

  “Besides, my dear,” Collins continued. “You must remember that it is by no means likely that another offer of marriage may ever be made to you. I am sure when sanctioned by your excellent brother, you will agree.”

  Now, Miss Bingley spun around to face him. “I have already told you, you toadying fool, that I want nothing to do with you! How dare you insult me in such a manner? I have many prospects much higher than a mere clergyman!”

  “Caroline!” Bingley called out. “That is enough! Regardless of your feelings for the man you will not speak to a guest in my home in such a manner.” I was impressed. Bingley never stood up to Miss Bingley. “You will apologize this instant.”

  Miss Bingley spun back around. “I will do no such thing! This is your fault to begin with for sending him on to me. You should have stopped him when he asked you.”

  Now Bingley, who was never anything but congenial, turned a darker shade of red than I had ever seen him. As though years of making excuses for her, of tolerating her temper tantrums and scheming, of taking her officious advice in stride had suddenly caught up with him, he said with icy control, “Caroline, over the past few weeks I have warned you more than once that I will not tolerate rudeness or discourtesy to any guest in my home or anyone in Hertfordshire. This has gone beyond rudeness to pure malice, and I will not have it. Now, apologize, Caroline, for if you do not you will have only two choices—marriage to Mr. Collins or exile to our aunt’s home in York.”

  Miss Bingley gasped. “You would not dare.”

  “Try me, Caroline.”

  The siblings glared at one another for a long, heated moment until Miss Bingley understood that Bingley was in earnest. She slowly turned to back to Collins, who had been staring at the siblings as though seeing them clearly for the first time. “I apologize for my rudeness, Mr. Collins. Please accept my thanks for your proposals, but I cannot accept them.”

  “Well, this is—I mean,” Collins sputtered. “Perhaps Lady Catherine was misled in her opinion. I shall take my leave.” He bowed and the fled the room.

  Miss Bingley kept her back to her brother. “Are you satisfied?”

  “Yes, you may stay. But this is your final warning regarding your behavior. The next infraction will see you in a carriage to the north. Do I make myself clear?
”

  “Yes,” was all Miss Bingley said before she stalked from the room, not to be seen for the rest of the day.

  As soon as she was gone, Bingley seemed to deflate. He walked shakily to the settee near Fitzwilliam’s chair and sank down onto it, cradling his head in his hands. “Oh, God,” he whispered. “How did it come to this?”

  Fitzwilliam reached out and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “That was very well done.”

  “Indeed, Bingley,” I added. “This is not your fault. Miss Bingley left you no choice. Her behavior had to be checked, and she would not listen to any other form of reproach. She will respect you enough from now on to take you at your word.”

  Eventually, Bingley recovered his usual good humor after his confrontation with Miss Bingley, and the three of us spent a lovely day at Longbourn with Elizabeth, Miss Bennet, and Miss Lucas.

  --- --- ---

  I was again reading in the library a few days later, when Fitzwilliam came in with a letter in his hand. He brandished it at me as he said, “Mrs. Younge has disappeared.”

  “What?” I asked, rising to my feet. “What do you mean disappeared?”

  “One of my men had been tailing her whenever she left her home in London. Apparently, she gave him the slip three days ago and has not been back to her house since then. They do not know where she has gone.”

  “Blast!” I ran my hands through my hair and paced the room. I knew Wickham had to be up to something. First he deserted his post in a regiment he had just joined, then all of Fitzwilliam’s vast network of contacts and sleuths could not find him, and now Wickham’s past accomplice had vanished.

  “My people are still searching for her. Several members of the staff at the inn where she works have been questioned, but no one seems to know anything. Whatever she and Wickham are doing, it seems to be well planned and concealed. There has yet to be the slightest trace of Wickham.”

  “Yes, but what are they planning? Does it have anything to do with me? With Elizabeth? With Georgianna? Or is it wholly unconnected to us? Damn it, Fitz, I can’t protect them from him if I don’t know what he is doing!”