Duels of Every Sort

by Sarah Brown

  Un-amused by her demonstration with the sword, the men had been taunting Elizabeth and threatening to become “better acquainted” with her, as they put it, when they had heard shouting from above. “I was never so happy to see a person in my life, Will, as I was to see you come running down those stairs.”

  “I am only sorry I could not get to you sooner,” I told her. “None of this would have happened if I had dealt with Wickham last summer, instead of mistakenly trying to keep my families actions private.”

  She gripped my hand fiercely with her good one. “No, Will. This is not your fault.”

  “But I allowed him to continue to roam free to harm who he pleased, and you, the person I love more than anything in this world, almost died for it.” I knew she could see the tears in my eyes as my vision swam out of focus.

  She shook her head. “Come here, Will.” I looked at her quizzically, and she carefully shifted over on the bed and pulled me closer. “Hold me?”

  I stretched out next to her and gathered her to me, cautiously avoiding her injured shoulder—her left arm was still bound, immobile, to her body. She winced as she settled into my chest, and I kissed her hair. I could see she was becoming sleepy again, but she refused to give in just yet. “I will not let you blame yourself for this, Will. No one is to blame but Wickham and Billings. You are a good man. You could not have conceived of such a scheme nor prevented it. I know you still saw Wickham as almost a brother, despite all he has done to you. You have an amazing loyalty to those you love, and I am sorry that it had to end as it did last night.”

  She turned her head slightly and kissed my chest. “It is done, though. Wickham is gone forever, and I will be well again very soon. You cannot dwell on what has passed. Let us just be happy that we are together now. There was a time in the last two days when I thought I might never see you again. But now that I have you back, I am determined not to think on it. You must learn some of my philosophy. Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure.”

  I stroked her hair and kissed her head again. “You are so very wise, my Lizzy. I do not deserve you.”

  I could hear her smile, as she sleepily whispered, “Yes, you do. You deserve me because I love you and because you love me.”

  I smiled, too. “That I do, my love.” I reached into my waistcoat pocket and retrieved Elizabeth’s ring. “I believe this belongs to you.”

  She looked from the ring up to me with wonder, her eyes a little watery. “Oh, Will. I did not know what Wickham did with it when he took it from me. I was afraid your grandmother’s ring would be lost forever.”

  “It is your ring, Elizabeth.” Very, very carefully, I slipped it onto the third finger of her left hand and kissed her forehead. “Now it is back where it belongs.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “I—“

  I put a finger to her lips. “Go to sleep now, my love. We can talk later.”

  Soon, Elizabeth was sound asleep as I held her close to me. A light knock sounded at the door followed by the entrance of Jane. She gave me a brief disapproving look at our position on the bed before she smiled. I held my finger to my lips for her to be quiet and slowly shifted Elizabeth off my chest and onto her pillows. After making sure she was warm and comfortable, I straightened up and motioned to Jane to follow me out into the hallway.

  “How is she this morning?” Jane asked.

  “She is all right,” I told her. A happy smile appeared on her face. “She was awake for a little while and ate some breakfast. There is no sign of fever and her pain does not seem to be too unmanageable.”

  “That is very good news, Will.” I nodded and smiled down at her.

  “And how are you this morning, Jane? Are you recovered form your ordeal?”

  “Oh, yes. Thank you so much for everything you have done. But I am quite well, only concerned for Lizzy.” I squeezed her hand briefly, and she smiled again. She continued, “Did she take anymore laudanum for the pain?”

  I grinned. “No, and I believe you are in for quite a lecture when she awakes again. She was rather put out that you had allowed Doctor Smythe to give it to her.”

  She grinned back. “I figured as much. She has always hated it and been an abominable patient. We will have quite a time of keeping her in bed to rest beyond a day or two.”

  “I am sure we can handle it.”

  She snorted and headed for the door again. “You have never tried it before.”

  It was still quite early and very few people were about yet. I asked Mrs. Glenn as I passed her in the hallway to see that Elizabeth’s family and Georgiana were apprised of her improved condition when they awoke and headed for my study. After my morning with Elizabeth, I did not want to deal with the loose ends of the kidnapping, but there was nothing else for it. I sat down and tried to gather my thoughts. I would have to deal with Mrs. Younge, who was still below stairs, as well as Billings and the other men that Fitzwilliam had captured, and I was not looking forward to it. Now that Elizabeth and Jane were safe, I just wanted to put this whole business behind us.

  As I was contemplating my course of action, Fitzwilliam appeared in the doorway. “Good morning, Will. How is your fiancé?”

  I smiled and waved him into a chair. “She is well, thank you. She should recover fully.”

  “That is excellent. I am very happy to hear it,” he said with a smile. I gave him a brief rundown of what Doctor Smythe had told us and Elizabeth’s condition that morning. He, in turn, told me that the Runners were holding Billings and his companions until we could bring our charges against them and that Mr. Gray and his men had taken care of the mess that we had left on the road and at the castle in our haste to get Elizabeth to medical attention. “So, what are you going to do about Mrs. Younge?”

  “I do not know. Elizabeth wants me to be lenient with her, and I am grateful that she did not allow Wickham to harm Elizabeth. However, she still participated in the kidnapping.”

  Fitzwilliam nodded in understanding. “Why don’t you bring her in, and we will see what she has to say for herself.”

  I called for a servant to bring Mrs. Younge up to the study. The sooner we dealt with this the sooner we could all put it behind us, and I could devote my time to Elizabeth.

  When Mrs. Younge was brought in, I could see that she had been given a fresh change of clothes and a bath, plus a warm place to sleep for the night, but she looked even more wretched than she had the night before. Her right eye was swollen almost shut and was a mass of purple and black. She kept her good eye downcast, and the set of her shoulders was small and defeated reminding me that she was still rather young—not yet thirty. I glanced at Fitzwilliam and saw him wince at the pathetic sight she presented.

  “Have a seat, Mrs. Younge,” I told her. She sat in the nearest chair and continued to stare at her hands. “Has anyone see to your eye?”

  “Yes, sir. Doctor Smythe looked at it last night.” Her voice was barely audible and shook with emotion.

  “Very well. What do you have to say for yourself?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing, Mr. Darcy. Just do with me what you will.”

  I looked again to Fitzwilliam. I had expected some sort of defense at least. I did not know how to deal with this complete lack of concern for her future. Fitzwilliam nodded his head toward the door, and I joined him in the hallway for a moment. “Will, she seems to be completely compliant. Why not use that to your advantage? What if you were to arrange it so that Mrs. Younge could testify against Billings and his men, leaving you and Miss Elizabeth free to return to Hertfordshire as soon as she is well? I don’t imagine that you are too keen on having Miss Elizabeth or Miss Bennet paraded in front of a court. A written statement from them and a testimony from Mrs. Younge should be enough to get a conviction.”

  “And what do I do with her after the trial?”

  He shrugged. “Arrange for her passage to America or some such thing.”

  I nodded. He was right. I just wanted this done with, and
the less any of us had to do with the trial and other consequences the better. There would be far less gossip—it would be impossible to avoid some at least—and it would peter out all the faster if we distanced ourselves from the whole mess.

  We returned to the room to find Mrs. Younge sitting just as we had left her. She did not look up at our entrance. I sat down across from her. “Here is what will happen, Mrs. Younge. Wickham and a number of his men are dead. However, you will testify against Billings and the remaining men so that the Misses Bennet are not needed in court. After the trial, I shall arrange passage to America for you and give you enough to start again once you reach it. What you do with your life from then on is your decision.”

  She slowly looked up at me, tears brimming in her good eye. “Thank you, sir.”

  I nodded, curtly. “Very well, until the trial I shall leave you in the care of Mrs. Glenn. You will do as she asks and not give anyone any trouble. Do you understand?”

  She nodded, “Yes, sir.”

  “Good.” I called for Mrs. Glenn and explained the circumstances. She led Mrs. Younge away, and I sighed in relief. After the awful ordeal of the past few days, things were beginning to fall back into place.

  Fitzwilliam and I spent the next two hours or so discussing what he and Mr. Gray were to do regarding Billings and his men. We sent off several notes express to Colonel Forster and several others who needed to be informed of recent events. I sent a note to my banker that the ransom would no longer be necessary but arranged for a bonus to be sent to Mr. Gray and his men to thank them for their efforts. When we had finished, Fitzwilliam left to visit the Runners, with the promise of returning for supper.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. The worst was over and Mrs. Younge’s cooperation had made things considerably simpler. None of us would be needed to deal with the trial very much. As soon as Elizabeth was better, we would return to Hertfordshire, where she and I would be married. Then we would travel to Pemberley, where we would stay, safe and happy, for a very long time if I had anything to say about it.

  --- --- ---

  Elizabeth slept through most of the day, only waking to assure her family that she was well and to eat a little. I visited her throughout the day and brought up a few books for her, between various retellings of events for Bingley, Mr. Bennet, Mrs. Bennet, Lydia, and Georgiana who all insisted on knowing just what had happened and how Elizabeth had been shot. By supper, I was quite exhausted by the whole day and wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of the night with Elizabeth. Unfortunately, I had to play host to all my guests, while Elizabeth remained in her room.

  Fitzwilliam joined us as promised and told us all of the arrangements that had been made for Billings and his men. They were being charged with kidnapping and extortion with the trial to take place within the month. My position amongst the ton and my consequence as the Master of Pemberley had been useful in speeding things along. I heartily thanked Fitzwilliam for all he had done over the past weeks and especially the past few days. His assistance had been invaluable, and I would never forget it.

  As the meal came to a close, Mr. Bennet rose from he seat and called for everyone’s attention. “Well, I think we have all had enough drama to last us a good while now. So, it is with great pleasure that I alter the mood and announce the engagement of my daughter Jane to Mr. Charles Bingley.”

  The table erupted in joy, Mrs. Bennet squealing, “Oh, Mr. Bingley!” and fluttering her handkerchief about. Bingley was positively beaming and Jane wore the happiest smile I had ever seen grace her features. Congratulations were offered all around and handshakes and embraces were exchanged. When I shook his hand, I told Bingley, “You and Jane must share a wedding with Elizabeth and I.”

  Bingley’s eyes lit up, and I smiled to see his usually jovial nature even more spirited with this latest development. “What an excellent idea, Darcy! I shall speak to Jane about in private as soon as I may.”

  As the evening wore on, I noticed two very interesting things. The first was that John and Georgiana seemed to fall into private conversation at every opportunity. I was not sure that it was conscious on either part, but they seemed to gravitate toward one another, to end up side by side more often than not. I also noticed that their eyes sparkled when they looked at each other, and their smiles were just a little brighter. It was an interesting observation, and one I would have to monitor closely.

  The second subject to catch my attention was Fitzwilliam. He had been very happy for Bingley and Jane and had congratulated them heartily. However, as the evening continued he seemed to withdraw into himself more and more. He stared rather wistfully as Charles and Jane stood close together and beamed at each other. I could not help but wonder if he was thinking about Miss Lucas. The inkling of an idea began to form in my mind. I would have to think on it.

  --- --- ---

  When I finally retired for the night, I went up to my room and allowed my valet to remove my coat, waistcoat, and boots before I dismissed him. Then I made my way through the sitting room to Elizabeth’s room. I peaked in the door to make sure that she was alone, before I entered.

  When I reached the bed, I simply stared at her for a moment. Dr. Smythe had come by earlier to check her shoulder and had rebound her arm to keep it still. She looked as though she were partially cocooned in bandages.

  I took hold of her hand and pushed an unruly curl off her forehead. Slowly her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled up at me. “Will.”

  “Elizabeth, darling. How are you feeling tonight?”

  “Good. Better now that you are here.” I smiled and sat down on the bed beside her. She asked about Mrs. Younge and Billings, and I told her of what had been done. “Thank you for helping Mrs. Younge. I know that she helped Wickham, but if she had not been there to stop him—“ her voice trailed off, and she closed her eyes.

  “Elizabeth, look at me.” Her eyes were over bright when they met mine. “It did not happen. He can never hurt you again.”

  She nodded, but her eyes were still swimming with tears. “I know, but I had a nightmare earlier, and I—“ she stopped again. I stroked her hair and kissed her hand, whispering comfort to her. She looked up with plaintive eyes. “Will you stay with me tonight?”

  “Of course I will, if you wish it.” Very slowly, so as to cause her the least amount of pain, we shifted around on the bed until I rested on the pillows under the counterpane with Elizabeth ensconced in my embrace. I kissed her hair and whispered, “You know there is nowhere I would rather be than here with you in my arms.” She snuggled deeper into my chest, and I could feel the heat from her body radiating through her fine cotton nightdress and my thin lawn shirt. As it had on each previous occasion, it just felt right to have her so close.

  We basked in each other’s nearness for some time before I remembered something I had wanted to ask her earlier. “Elizabeth? Where did you learn to fence like that?”

  She began to giggle and then to laugh but quickly quieted as pain lanced through her shoulder. When she had regained control, she explained, “When John was first learning to fence, I was about four years old, and it fascinated me. I begged and begged until John gave me a lesson. Each summer, when John came home for the school holidays he would teach me everything he had learned. This went on secretly for about three years until Papa caught us in the middle of a match one day behind the stables.”

  She giggled again. “He pretended to be outraged for all of five seconds before he conceded that I was quite good at it—I believe his words were, ‘Especially in a skirt’. After that, when John was away at school Papa would teach me. He is quite good with a sword as well, though he is getting on in years now. He swore me to secrecy, since my mother would have thrown a fit had she known her least favorite daughter was engaging in another activity that she deemed inappropriate for a girl.”

  “Another activity?” I could not help asking, the humor evident in my voice.

  She looked up at me with her eyebrow arched pertly. “You said a
t the Netherfield ball that John had regaled you with stories of my adventures, and you heard Charlotte tell you of my propensity to go frog catching at the least opportune moment. But there was also tree climbing and impromptu swims in the pond and, God forbid, reading.

  “My mother never understood why I spent so much time in my father’s library reading any book I could reach—an occasionally climbing the shelves for the ones I could not. My father would read to me when I was very little, and when he saw how much I loved it he began teaching me to read when I was just three years old. My governess loved me because I would eagerly absorb any lesson she set for me, whereas Jane simply accepted the lessons and Lydia actively avoided them. I love to open a new book, knowing that an entirely new experience is waiting for me in the pages, no matter the subject.”

  She smiled in reflection, and my esteem for her redoubled again. My esteem for her father grew as well. Most fathers, I knew, would not bother to teach their daughters to read let alone at such a young age, nor would they be amused if they discovered those daughters fencing. I hoped that I would be as good a father to our children as Mr. Bennet had been to Elizabeth. “You are very close to your father.”

  “Yes,” she nodded. “He has always been there for me, always made time for me. And he never treats me like a girl. He treats me like a person, an equal, and I love him for it. I am very lucky to have him—and John.” She grew quiet, and I sensed that she was saddened by the knowledge that her marriage to me would necessitate her removal from Longbourn and her father and brother.

  I kissed her forehead. “You know your father and brother will always be welcome to visit us whenever they wish. And we will visit Longbourn and Netherfield as often as we can,” I whispered.

  “Thank you,” she whispered back. After a moment, she continued, “Fencing became another activity that Papa and I could share. And when John was home for summer, the three of us would practice together. Papa would take both of us out with him as he went about estate business teaching John how to run the land and teaching me how to take care of the people in it. We would take picnic lunches and our foils and spend the afternoons together.”