Duels of Every Sort

by Sarah Brown

  I closed my eyes and shook my head. I was sure of no such thing. “I hope you are right,” I whispered.

  “I am. I am always right,” Mrs. Glenn replied. She then switched into full mothering mode and said, “Now, you look completely done in. You will be no good to your young lady, if you cannot stay awake tomorrow to search for her. Off to bed with you. I shall have some chocolate sent up to your room.”

  I smiled and kissed her cheek, then headed for the door. “Thank you, Mrs. Glenn. You always know just what I need.” As a child, Mrs. Glenn and Mrs. Reynolds would always give me chocolate was my favorite indulgence. I rarely drank it as an adult, but it would be welcome comfort now.

  In my room, I changed out of my dusty traveling clothes and then sat before the fire as I sipped the chocolate. It warmed me from the inside as the fire warmed me from without. At last, I made my way to bed, with no expectation of actually sleeping. To my great surprise, I dropped off into dreamless exhaustion the moment I lied down.

  --- --- ---

  The twenty-first of December was absolute agony. I awoke at dawn, having slept but not feeling rested. When I reached the breakfast room, I was not too surprised to find John there already. It looked as though he had not gotten much sleep. Dark circles hung under his eyes and his hair—the same chocolate brown as Elizabeth’s—was rather disheveled. He nursed a cup of coffee and a nearly untouched plate of eggs. I poured myself some coffee, piled food on a plate at random, and joined him, trying in vain to read the paper. After forcing myself to eat a bit, and downing a second cup of coffee, I gave up on the paper.

  It was still several hours before I could go to my bank and several more before the noon meeting to discuss any progress made overnight. I felt restless, useless. How was I supposed to sit about and do nothing when Elizabeth was in danger? I knew, intellectually, that there was nothing more I could do for the moment, but my heart did not want to hear that. John seemed to be having a similar struggle, fidgeting and pushing the eggs on his plate around while not actually eating anything.

  “John, I can’t just sit here all morning,” I broke the silence.

  He looked up, his eyes filled with the same sense of impotence that I felt. “What would you suggest? There is nothing we can do to help the search right now, and we cannot leave the house in case word of Wickham’s location arrives.”

  I cast about in my head for some sort of activity that might give us some relief. At last, I offered, “We could have a fencing match. Prepare for when we go after Wickham?”

  John’s eyes brightened ever so slightly. “Sounds good. In the ballroom?”

  I nodded, and we each left to retrieve our foils. We shed our coats and ran through a few exercises to warm up. This time, we did not bother to play with our left hands first. We crossed blades and began.

  This was no lighthearted practice or exercise to enhance our skills. We each poured all of our frustration, anger, worry, and sadness into the battle. Our swords crossed with lightening speed, each parry met with all our force. We raged around the entire room. Sweat dripped from my brow and my hair fell into my eyes.

  On and on we battled, not each other, but Wickham and our hatred of him. I fought, not John, but my overwhelming fear for Elizabeth. Finally, exhausted, neither able to gain an advantage, we simply stopped.

  Without a word, we sank down to the floor and leaned against the wall, breathing hard. Our foils lay forgotten beside us. When I had finally regained my breath, I said, “I cannot tell you how sorry I am that your sisters got caught between Wickham and me, John. Had I known, I would not have come to Hertfordshire and put them in danger.”

  John shook his head. “No. You had no idea this would happen. I will never regret bringing you to Longbourn and introducing you to Lizzy. I have never seen her as happy as she is when she is with you. You make her eyes glow with joy and contentment.” He stared wistfully into space.

  Touched by his words, I whispered, “Thank you.”

  He turned back and his eyes refocused, hardening into determination. “As for Wickham, this time I will not stop you from running him through if you get the chance. We will find them, and Wickham will pay for what he has done to my sisters and to yours.”

  --- --- ---

  I returned to the house after meeting with my banker. The twenty thousand pounds would be ready by noon tomorrow. God, I hoped I would not have to live through another night wondering where Elizabeth was and if she was well or what Wickham might have done to her. I was terrified that he would hurt her in order to hurt me even more.

  I joined the others for an early lunch before the noon meeting. Georgiana and Lydia seemed to be getting on well. Lydia seemed in better spirits than yesterday. John talked with them both, even managing to make them laugh just a little. Georgiana had been shy of John after the events of the summer, but she seemed to have gotten over that. The two of them conversed easily, and John even looked a little happy. Lydia—rather against her character—watched them quietly, only offering an occasional comment.

  Mrs. Bennet had not emerged from her room. Mrs. Annesley had been kind enough to tend to her, and I had been told that laudanum had been administered once or twice to afford the distraught woman some rest.

  Mr. Bennet said very little during the meal, and neither did Bingley. Both kept most of their attention on their plates, and listened to John and Georgiana. I could not blame them, as I had very little conversation to contribute, as well. My heart hurt too much to make idle chatter just to fill the silence.

  A little before noon, Mrs. Glenn informed me that the two servants that Charles had sent out to make inquiries along the road from Hertfordshire had arrived. I asked her to give them something to eat and find them quarters for the night, then show them to the drawing room as soon as Fitzwilliam and Mr. Gray arrived.

  Precisely at noon, Mr. Bennet, John, Bingley, Fitzwilliam, Mr. Gray, the two servants, and I convened in the drawing room. Mr. Gray began by questioning the two servants. They told us that a party of five men with a dilapidated coach with the shades drawn had been seen on the road to London from Meryton and had stopped at a coaching inn to change horses. However, they had not been seen entering London or on any of the other roads. They both thought it likely that they had holed up somewhere outside the city.

  I thanked them and invited them to stay for the night before returning to Hertfordshire. They returned to the kitchen, and the rest of us sat down. Mr. Gray spoke again, “Well, their information confirms what I suspected from my own inquiries. I believe they are somewhere on the west side outside the city limits. The field for the ransom exchange is on that side as well, so they would not have to transport the Misses Bennet far to get to the drop.”

  Fitzwilliam continued, “We have also discovered some information about Billings. It seems that his estate is bankrupt and he needed Miss Cartwright’s fortune to replenish his coffers. So, when she broke off the engagement, he transferred his anger to you, Will, and called you out. He has not been seen in polite company since his cowardly behavior at the duel. My guess is that now he intends to use the ransom money to reestablish his fortune and place in society.”

  “But, Wickham only asked for twenty thousand pounds. I doubt the division of that between Billings, Wickham, Mrs. Younge, and any other accomplices would end up being of that much use to him,” I said.

  Mr. Gray answered, “I can only assume that Wickham is using Billings to help him through this venture, but has no intention of sharing the money with him. As you know, Wickham is a master manipulator and Billings is young and foolish as demonstrated by his actions at the duel. However, I am hopeful that it will not come down to paying them the ransom. I currently have men searching the western outskirts of London for any sign of Wickham, as well as men watching the Billings town house, Mrs. Younge’s home, and Wickham’s known haunts.”

  “For now,” Fitzwilliam continued, “all we can do is wait. The men who are searching are professionals, and now that we have some leads
as to where to look and who we are looking for, it should not be too long. There are only so many places they can hide.”

  Reluctantly, the rest of us agreed to remain at the house until there was more information. Fitzwilliam and Mr. Gray left to continue their search, promising to return that night with an update, if not a location. John returned to Georgiana and Lydia, Mr. Bennet went to check on Mrs. Bennet, and Bingley went to thank his two servants who had helped gather information.

  Once they had all left, I sat in the empty drawing room for moment and thought of everything I had heard. That Wickham was manipulating Billings I had not doubt, but I did wonder how they had met to begin with. And to where had Mrs. Younge disappeared? Was she even involved or was her absence from London merely coincidental? A thousand such questions ran through my mind with no ready answers—the most prominent of which was whether Elizabeth was still unharmed. The thought of what Wickham might do to her for vengeance against me made me physically ill, and I had to force my mind to think of anything but that.

  I spent the rest of the day trying to occupy my time so that I would not run mad with fruitless speculation and endless worry. I went down to the stable to be sure that the carriage and all our horses were ready to go at a moment’s notice. I spoke with Mrs. Annesley regarding Mrs. Bennet’s nervous condition and thanked her for her assistance. I listened to Georgiana play the pianoforte and was impressed when she managed to interest Lydia enough to give her a lesson. I watched John watch Georgiana and wondered what was going through his mind. I attempted, with very little success, to answer some of my correspondence. And I spoke with Mrs. Glenn about the arrangements that she had been able to make for our guests on such short notice.

  Unlike the other tasks, this last actually did require my attention. While my town house is quite large and in one of the best neighborhoods in London, it does not usually house such an abundance of guests. Apart from the family rooms, there were seven guest bedrooms, one of which was permanently occupied by Mrs. Annesley. This meant that when we recovered Elizabeth and Jane, we would be one room short, unless someone was made to share a room, which was less than ideal as everyone in our party required all the uninterrupted rest they could get. It was a moment before the most obvious solution presented itself.

  “Mrs. Glenn, please prepare the last guest room for Miss Jane Bennet and prepare the Mistress’s chambers for Elizabeth. That way they may each have a bedroom to themselves so they may rest comfortably. Also, neither of them will have a change of clothing. Georgiana is built on a slightly larger scale than either of the Miss Bennets, but please see if she might spare a dress or two for them and some night clothes.”

  Mrs. Glenn regarded me silently. It appeared as though she was trying to find a delicate way of asking her next question but finally gave up and asked, “Forgive me, sir, I realize she is your fiancé, but you want me to put Miss Elizabeth in the Mistress’s chambers, which adjoin yours through a door with no lock?”

  I gazed back at her steadily. “Yes.”

  “But will not Mr. Bennet disapprove?”

  Without pause, I answered, “No, he will not. Mr. Bennet has the utmost trust and respect for both Elizabeth and me. I am only thinking of the comfort of Elizabeth and Jane. Besides, they will be her chambers come February. Though this is not the way in which I would have liked her to become accustomed to them, it is the best solution in the current circumstances.”

  Mrs. Glenn eyed me a moment longer then apparently decided just to do as I asked. “Yes, sir. I shall see to it.” After she left, I went back to creating things to do. None of the tasks calmed my mind, but at least they kept my hands busy so that I could not pull my hair out with all the worry and waiting.

  --- --- ---

  Supper that night was a somber affair. Fitzwilliam and Mr. Gray had not yet returned for their promised update. After supper, Georgiana played the pianoforte in an attempt to distract everyone. It suddenly occurred to me that she never played for anyone but me. But today she had played for the whole company. It was yet another reminder of her newfound maturity and confidence. I longed for Elizabeth to be there to guide her as she changed from child to young woman. My heart knew that Elizabeth was just what she needed to come entirely out of her shell.

  After an hour, Georgiana and Lydia retired early. Mrs. Bennet had still not left her room, and Mrs. Annesley was keeping her company. The gentlemen and I remained behind, each taking turns pretending to read, pacing the room, or staring blankly out the window. The silence that pervaded that room made the situation all the more awful. Under normal circumstances, a room with Bingley, John, and Mr. Bennet would be filled with intelligent, good humored conversation, a good bit of teasing, and much laughter. Tonight, the silence was deafening.

  By ten o’clock, I had taken to staring at the clock on the mantle in annoyance when Fitzwilliam burst into the room. “We found them! Let’s go, I’ll explain on the way!”

  The four of us jumped up, and I shouted for our horses and the carriage to be brought round with all haste. In a flash, we were attired for the winter weather and racing down the front steps. As we waited for our horses, Fitzwilliam told us, “One of Gray’s men spotted Mrs. Younge using the servant’s entrance to the Billings town house a few hours ago. She was followed back to their location. Wickham and Billings are holed up in an abandoned castle ruin a little ways outside the city and a few miles from the field that they chose for the ransom meeting. Gray and several of his men are watching the castle as we speak. I told him not to move until we arrive.”

  The stable hands brought our horses in record time, and the carriage was just behind. I mounted Strider, and we rode off as quickly as we could without losing the carriage. It would be needed to get Elizabeth and Jane home again.

  Nearly three quarters of an hour later, Fitzwilliam signaled for us to slow down for fear that our noise would alert Wickham that he had been discovered. As we turned a corner, Mr. Gray stepped out from the shadows and flagged us down. “How does it look?” Fitzwilliam asked.

  “The castle is fairly quiet now. We’ve been watching for the past two hours, but there’s been no sign of Wickham or Billings. I’m not sure that either is inside at the moment,” he reported.

  “Any idea of the numbers we are facing?” I asked.

  “Mrs. Younge is definitely within, though she presents little challenge. Apart from that, my two men are each watching one of the two sentries that we located, and there are at least two others inside. We aren’t sure what happened, but there was a bit of a commotion about fifteen minutes before you arrived. Two of the men came running from the one of the doors and began searching around the castle. They went back inside just before you rode up.”

  “Do we know where the girls are being held?” Mr. Bennet asked next.

  As Mr. Gray began to answer, Bingley signaled for silence. I held my breath as I listened. A slight rustling was coming from the trees that stood in the direction of the ruined castle. “Who goes there?” Bingley called quietly.

  The rustling stopped; then, after a short pause, a timid, “Charles?” issued from the shrubbery.

  Bingley gasped, leapt from his horse, and ran to the bushes, calling, “Jane?” Mr. Bennet and John were not far behind.

  In a moment, a very disheveled, very cold Jane appeared from the foliage and was swept into Bingley’s arms. She passed from his arms into John’s and finally to her father’s. I dismounted and peered with all my might into the trees, hoping that Elizabeth would emerge as well. My heart dropped into my stomach when she did not. Bingley pulled out his boot knife and cut the ropes that bound Jane’s hands. He was wrapping Jane in his coat, when I whispered, “Jane, where is Elizabeth?”

  Tears pooled in her eyes as she looked up at me with pain, fear, and sadness in her gaze. “She is still back there,” she whispered. “Lizzy and I were caught talking to each other, and they were going to separate us. We didn’t know how any of you would ever find us. So when they came to take Lizzy fro
m the room they had locked us in down to the basement, she created a diversion so that I could escape and bring back help. I climbed out a window and ran into the trees.”

  “Then it was you that they were looking for a little while ago?” Mr. Gray asked. Jane nodded.

  “Are Wickham and Billings inside?” John asked.

  Jane shook her head. “No, we have not seen them since this morning.” Jane began to cry in earnest, her watery gaze traveling between Mr. Bennet and John before settling on me. “Wickham was—he—he was going to take Lizzy away from me and—and hurt her—” She choked on a sob, and Bingley wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Her voice quivering with emotion, she continued, “But Mrs. Younge would not let him. She refused to let him take Lizzy. Wickham became enraged, and he and Billings stormed out. I don’t know where they are.”

  My stomach churned at the thought of what had been narrowly avoided. I ran my hands through my hair and tried to calm the frantic pace of my heart. Mrs. Younge may have stopped Wickham, but Elizabeth was still in a dilapidated castle full of criminals. I had to get to her. “Jane, where do you think they are holding Elizabeth now?”

  “Most likely in the cellar,” she told me.

  I took a deep breath and, with all my vaunted self-control, reigned in my emotions and took control of the situation. “All right. Here is what we are going to do.” Everyone looked to me, awaiting instructions, with the exception of Mr. Gray, who shot a quizzical glance at Fitzwilliam. A slight shake of his head let Mr. Gray know that I was in charge. Fitzwilliam was a war hero and stellar sleuth, but, as he had told Elizabeth at the Netherfield ball, he had learned about strategy from me before he had joined the army. “Bingley, Mr. Bennet, you will stay here and guard Jane and the carriage with the driver and footmen. Move it off to the side of the road and hide it as best you can in case Wickham returns. We do not want him alerted to our presence.” They each nodded and the escorted Jane to the carriage and began questioning her about her health.