by C. P. Odom
“Then I accept the challenge, and I choose rapiers,” Wickham said gleefully. He had always been better than Darcy, and Darcy had been better than his cousin when they had first learnt to fence. He felt sure he should be able to handle Fitzwilliam without undue problems, and he could then be on his way to the Continent, leaving Darcy with the unpleasantness of having to bury his cousin.
The sun shone above the horizon now though it was still bitterly cold, and Wickham grimly accepted the offer of one of the officers to act as his second. Despite the cold, he removed his coat and waistcoat and began to go through the warming up exercises he had been taught. Twenty yards away, he could see Fitzwilliam doing the same.
Once they were ready, they met at the centre of the field on either side of Major Forest.
“Do both of you gentlemen understand the rules? I will bring you to the en garde position, but you will not begin until I give the command. The duel will continue until blood is drawn, at which time I will stop the fighting to see whether both contestants agree honour has been satisfied. Unless that happens, the duel will continue until one opponent is either killed or wounded so severely he cannot continue. Judgement of the latter point is totally within the discretion of the master of the field, who is the only one who can order the contest stopped. Do you both understand?”
When both Wickham and Fitzwilliam affirmed their understanding, Major Forest said, “Then, gentlemen, you will both come to en garde.”
Fitzwilliam and Wickham carefully assumed their position with their bodies turned to the right so their shoulders and feet were in line with their extended arms and swords. They brought their swords together so they touched about six inches below the point.
“Gentlemen, you may begin,” Major Forest said, and the two blades moved instantly. Wickham launched an attack that Fitzwilliam blocked before he began one of his own. Wickham quickly and easily blocked Fitzwilliam’s conventional attack, and his confidence soared as he realised he was faster than his opponent.
Back and forth the action continued, blade ringing on blade as points probed for an opening in an opponent’s defences. Suddenly, one of Wickham’s attacks was partially successful, and his tip ripped through Fitzwilliam’s white shirt and laid open a gash across his chest. Blood instantly stained the shirt, and the response of Major Forest was immediate.
“Hold!” he cried, and both opponents drew back.
“Blood has been drawn, gentleman. I now ask you whether your honour has been satisfied. Colonel Fitzwilliam…?”
“No, sir, it has not,” Fitzwilliam said firmly though his own second was anxiously inspecting the gash along his chest, pressing a towel against it in an effort to stop the bleeding.
“Mr. Wickham…?”
“Let us get this bloody farce over. I have an appointment at the docks.”
“Colonel Fitzwilliam, are you able to continue?”
“I am. The skin is broken, but the wound is trifling.”
Major Forest looked doubtful, but he had no choice but to continue. “Then, gentlemen, you will come to en garde.”
Again the blades touched, and upon command, they began their dance of death. Wickham’s confidence was high, and his lips were drawn back over his teeth as he pressed the attack on Fitzwilliam, determined to end the fight as soon as possible.
However, that proved more difficult than Wickham had believed just minutes before. Fitzwilliam’s face was cold and composed, but Wickham sensed an increasing level of skill in the colonel’s movements as though old lessons were coming back. It made it easier for Fitzwilliam to block and repel his attack than it had been at the start of the contest.
Wickham felt himself beginning to tire. He could not allow this contest to change to one of stamina rather than skill. He immediately launched his favourite attack, one that had always been successful in the past. Several engagements and parries set Fitzwilliam up perfectly, and then Wickham advanced ferociously, his blade spiralling around Fitzwilliam’s, moving his point aside for the critical lunge.
Except somehow, Fitzwilliam’s body was not where Wickham anticipated, and his point plunged through the empty space.
Then there was a horrible pain in his chest.
Wickham looked down in astonishment to see the blade of Fitzwilliam’s rapier protruding from his chest, and it was withdrawn as he watched. He stood still for an instant, and then he looked up at Fitzwilliam, whose face appeared as calm as when they started.
Wickham tried to open his mouth to say he was ready to go to the docks, but his mouth filled with blood, and he could not see Fitzwilliam in the gathering darkness…
***
The scarlet-coated officers gathered around the two men. Fitzwilliam was still on his feet, breathing deeply and regularly, and Wickham lay crumpled on the ground.
“Here, let me see to your wound, sir.” Fitzwilliam’s second ripped open the bloodstained shirt so he could apply a dressing to the still-bleeding wound.
“He was once better than me with the rapier,” Fitzwilliam mused, “but it appears he has not kept up his practice.”
“No, sir,” Wickham’s second said, “but at least he died game.”
“Yes,” Fitzwilliam agreed, “I shall give him that.”
He turned to Major Forest and gave him his rapier. “Will you see to the body and inform the authorities?”
“Of course, sir.”
The protocol for an affair of honour was quite understood and accepted though opinion was becoming more decided against the practice of duelling and, officially illegal, the law was seldom enforced. Fitzwilliam knew there could not be many more years before such affairs of honour were outlawed de facto as well as de jure, but at least he had finally fulfilled the oath he had sworn when Darcy first informed him that Wickham had tried to elope with Georgiana. Upon learning how close he and Darcy had come to failing in their protection of her, Fitzwilliam had sworn he would make sure Wickham never again had a chance to repeat his crime.
Of course, somehow I never mentioned that particular oath to my cousin. Darcy is a fine man, but he can be overly fastidious every now and then, Fitzwilliam thought as he reboarded Darcy’s coach.
Chapter 8
She cried aloud with a great mourning cry for all that she had never known in this life and the agony of a bereavement unguessed till this moment.
— Marion Zimmer Bradley (1930–1999), American science-fiction and fantasy author, The Mists of Avalon
Wednesday, December 23, 1812
Longbourn, Hertfordshire
The coming of Christmas did not presage the usual joy of the season since the fate of Miss Lydia Bennet was still the preferred subject of conversation about the neighbourhood. Hardly any gathering among the better families passed without an exhaustive review of what was known or speculated. Of course, since the Bennet family was never included in any of these gatherings, they were not able to comment on the accuracy of those conversations.
The arrival of the Gardiners provided the only relief to the general gloom at Longbourn, and Mrs. Gardiner continued her usual practice of distributing presents to all the girls. It made it seem, just for a moment, like any other Christmas season, but her discussion of the fashions in vogue in London was not received with the same attention as in previous years, for fashion was not a topic much discussed at Longbourn.
At least, the subject drew little attention until Mrs. Gardiner happened to mention Mr. Darcy’s name in passing when discussing the declining interest of long sleeves among the fashionable ladies.
“Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth said immediately. “How did you come to hear his opinion?”
“Why, did I not mention we have had occasion to meet Mr. Darcy?” Mrs. Gardiner said, trying to make her voice sound casual, for she had not intended to mention his name.
“No, you did not. Jane, did
Aunt Gardiner talk of meeting Mr. Darcy in any of her letters to you?”
“I do not believe so. I cannot remember hearing of it until now.”
“Well, I thought I mentioned it,” Mrs. Gardiner said. “He dined once at our house, and he extended a like invitation before he returned to Derbyshire.”
“Mr. Darcy dined with our uncle?” Elizabeth said, almost angrily. “A man who makes a living in trade? I cannot believe it, Aunt. He would consider such an acquaintance a degradation. You must be making a joke of some kind.”
Mrs. Gardiner winced at the tone in Elizabeth’s voice. She was aware of her niece’s antipathy for the man, but her mood had become somewhat bitter. The rejection of her family by the neighbourhood seemed to affect her open and cheerful spirit more than it did her sisters.
“It is no jest,” Mrs. Gardiner said. “After what you related about that gentleman being so disagreeable, I was surprised to discover Mr. Darcy quite amiable. In light of the disappointments of the past year, I think you ought to give a person a chance to redeem himself.”
Elizabeth immediately realised her misstep and apologised. “You are right as usual. I suppose I am too disposed to be critical these days.”
Mrs. Gardiner was well aware of the gloom pervading Longbourn, which was not improved since her sister Bennet spent most days in her room, coming downstairs only rarely and then for not very long. “Well, we must invite you girls to visit us in town. A change in scenery might be just the thing to improve your outlook.”
All of the sisters except for Mary were exceedingly pleased by this proposal, and it was determined that Jane would visit first, followed by Elizabeth and then Kitty. With these decisions made, Mrs. Gardiner gathered her courage and departed upstairs to try to cheer her sister and persuade her to join the family.
The Gardiners stayed until a few days prior to the new year before returning to town, taking Jane with them. Longbourn was a dreary place with Mr. Bennet ensconced in his library and his wife confining herself to her sitting room. No one visited save Mr. and Mrs. Philips.
With her aunt and uncle gone, taking her elder sister with them, Elizabeth returned to her long rambles when the weather allowed. She was not due to take Jane’s place until after the end of March, and she looked forward to it eagerly.
***
Friday, April 23, 1813
Covent Garden, London
Elizabeth’s turn to visit her aunt and uncle began in April, and she felt her spirits lighten as soon as she departed the environs of Longbourn. Her aunt had planned a number of engagements especially suited to Elizabeth’s lively nature, and one of the most appealing was a visit to the theatre.
On the scheduled evening, Elizabeth looked about her curiously as she descended from her uncle’s carriage in front of the Theatre Royal. She had not had many chances to attend the theatre since her father was not fond of London, and tonight’s excursion had been highly anticipated. A steady stream of people converged towards the entrance, all dressed in the latest fashions, many of which must have cost incredible sums of money. She and her aunt discussed which finery was in fashion and which ladies—and gentlemen—seemed not to know whether they looked well in the attire they had chosen for the night or not.
After being shown to their seats, Elizabeth saw much to engage and amuse her among the audience. She saw ladies walk slowly to their seats, enjoying the fact that many eyes followed them. Countless notes were being passed to and from ladies who had already seated themselves. It seemed as though the drama executed by the audience might surpass the play soon to be performed on stage!
Mrs. Gardiner pointed out the two royal boxes. “As you know, relations between the king and his son were tense for years before the king became so mad he had to be restrained. There was an altercation here one evening in the Lower Rotunda between the two of them, and the papers were full of the sordid details for days. After this public display, the theatre would direct the King to the King’s side and the Prince Regent to the Prince’s side. I believe this theatre is the only one with that distinction—if it is correct to label such foolishness a distinction.”
Elizabeth found the story amusing and was looking around when she noticed a pair of opera glasses focused on her. Equally startled and flattered, she looked closer and was stunned to recognise the distinctive Darcy jaw.
At first, it seemed as though he might be looking at her aunt or uncle since they knew each other socially, but a second look made it clear he was looking directly at her. Such a fascination seemed exceedingly strange. After her unrestrained rejection of him in Kent, she knew Darcy would take pains to avoid any meeting between the two of them. And with the scandal attached to her family because of Lydia’s elopement, his aversion to any encounter would be even greater.
Yet it was undeniable that he was looking at her, and now Elizabeth wondered whether they would meet again. It was impossible that any interest remained on his part—his letter had made his disinclination unquestionable—but if they did meet during her visit, how would he act? Would he be as proud and haughty as he had been in Hertfordshire and Rosings, or would his behaviour be more in keeping with what her aunt had described? She could hardly guess, and Elizabeth wondered whether she should talk to her aunt to make sure they did not accept any invitations from Mr. Darcy during her visit.
As she was watching, she saw Darcy lower his glasses, and he fixed her with a familiar, intent gaze—the one she had so often misinterpreted. He gave a slow, grave nod of recognition, and Elizabeth was on the verge of returning the acknowledgement when she noticed Darcy was not alone in his box. Beside him was a young girl who had to be his sister, and next to her sat Mr. Bingley.
Neither Miss Darcy nor Mr. Bingley seemed to have noticed the path of Darcy’s gaze because they were involved in what was clearly an amiable and amusing conversation. Elizabeth was shocked to her core to witness the exact scene predicted by Caroline Bingley in her cruel letter to Jane upon quitting Netherfield. Instead of returning Darcy’s nod as she had intended, Elizabeth turned in her seat to face forward, her cheeks flushed red with anger and despair at the final extinction of any hope for her sister and Mr. Bingley.
She had much to think on during the performance, and it quite ruined any possibility of enjoying the play. At the interval, she steadfastly refused even to glance over her shoulder in the direction of the Darcy party, but she could no longer contain her curiosity when the play ended. In the process of rising to her feet and retrieving her shawl, she was able to cast a casual glance at Darcy’s box and found it empty.
She did not see him as she made her way out of the theatre. It was obvious Darcy had made his departure early, and Elizabeth was certain he had done so purposely to avoid any possibility of encountering her.
She did not know whether to feel relief or disappointment.
***
May 1814–October 1814
Hertfordshire and London
After Elizabeth’s return to Longbourn, the weeks of unending boredom turned into months with only slow and incremental improvement in the situation of the Bennet family. It was made worse for the two elder sisters because events of some importance were taking place elsewhere.
In the spring of 1814, Georgiana Darcy had been presented to the Queen by her aunt Lady Matlock. Mrs. Bennet and her sister Philips read of the event in The Times and made sure to inform their daughters. Subsequent events had only been sporadically mentioned in the press though Miss Darcy’s name occasionally appeared as one of the attendees at the events of the London Season following the opening of Parliament.
***
It was to be Georgiana’s first and only Season. She found most of the events exceedingly stressful and unpleasant. Had she applied herself, she could have attended as many as fifty balls, sixty parties, thirty dinners, and twenty-five breakfasts. By choice, she did not attend half as many.
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Georgiana found the whole enterprise exactly as she had heard it described—a venue whereby young gentlemen pursued available young women of means and vice versa. The whole experience was distasteful, and the number of young gentlemen who sought introduction to her blended together into an amorphous mass in which no one stood out from the rest.
In contrast, she found the rising interest of Charles Bingley to be almost a balm to senses agitated by stressful events. He was well-known to her, had the approval of her brother, and already had a fortune of his own and was not pursuing hers. Once the Season was past, he ventured to make his offer, and she responded with eager acceptance. They were engaged by September and married before the end of October.
***
Both events were noted at Longbourn, thanks to the unwelcome information brought by their aunt Philips after reading The Times. On both occasions, she brought news of the announcements to share with her sister, and Mrs. Bennet’s wails of despair could not fail to attract the attention of her elder daughters. Elizabeth watched Jane try to maintain her composure as she read of the marriage, and her heart felt near to breaking from the despair she felt for her dearest sister.
***
August 1815
Hertfordshire
The following year, Aunt Philips brought news of the birth of a son to the Bingleys. James Fitzwilliam Bingley’s godfather was to be Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley.
Jane appeared not badly affected, but Elizabeth took the news much more to heart. Her rambles often failed to brighten her dejected disposition, and not even the fading stigma laid against her family was enough to markedly lighten her spirits.
Chapter 9
It is prosperity that gives us friends, adversity that proves them.
— Proverb
Saturday, September 7, 1816
Gardiner residence, London
When Fitzwilliam Darcy descended from his coach and rapped on the front door of the Gardiner home on Gracechurch Street, a maid was quick to open it and conduct him upstairs.