Duels of Every Sort Read online

  I thanked John profusely for his timely letter, we picked up our acquaintance where we had left off four years earlier, and we had been in one another’s company ever since. Bingley joined our group shortly thereafter, and we had been a merry trio once again.

  When Bennet had learned of Bingley’s search for an estate to purchase he had recommended Netherfield. Bingley had agreed, and now we all found ourselves traveling to Hertfordshire to take possession of the place and have a bit of fun.

  As we entered the quaint town of Meryton, several men called out greetings to John, which he returned. Bingley, the carriage, and I attracted the speculative stares of everyone we passed causing me to squirm uncomfortably in my saddle, a fact that did not escape notice. “Darce, you’d think you’d be used to it by now,” Bennet chuckled. “You’ve been an object of interest your whole life.”

  “I don’t have to like,” I mumbled, as I stopped my squirming, sat up straight in my saddle, and put on my most imperturbable air. It usually served me well in deflecting unwanted attention.

  “Oh, no,” Bingley said, chuckling as well. “Now he’s gone and become the formidable Mr. Darcy.” I had forgotten over the years that these two gentlemen could be a relentless tag-team against me, the eldest by a year and half, when we were all together.

  John laughed some more, “For goodness sake, Darce. Relax! The populace of Meryton is not going to eat you. However, if you put on that façade when you meet my family, my sisters will. Lizzy especially is unlikely to appreciate it. She can’t stand false pride and will see through yours in a heart beat.”

  I had never met any of John’s family, despite having heard numerous tales about the adventures of his three younger sisters, Jane, Elizabeth, and Lydia, while we were still at Cambridge. I had always particularly been interested in his stories about Elizabeth. According to him, she was always up a tree, wandering alone through the woods, or even swimming in a pond by herself when she was not to be found in her father’s library devouring any book she could reach. She had always been, undeniably, John’s favorite sister and her father’s favorite daughter. I was looking forward to meeting her, as well as his parents. His descriptions of his mother’s nerves and his father’s wit had always given us a laugh as well.

  We came to a crossroads, and John took his leave to head in one direction to Longbourn while the rest of us were to continue the opposite way to Netherfield. “I’ll see you all tomorrow night at the assembly,” he said as he turned his horse.

  I groaned aloud. “Do I really have to go? You know I can’t stand such events.”

  “Yes!” John and Bingley responded simultaneously. John called behind him as he rode off, “If you aren’t there, and in good time, I shall ride to Netherfield and drag you out of the house myself!”

  I grumbled under my breath, and Bingley added, “Oh come on, Darce. It’ll be fun, and we shall get to meet John’s family and the rest of the country.” This did not have the effect Bingley intended. John’s family I did not mind meeting. The rest of the country was quite another matter.

  I loathe balls and dancing and all the idle, insipid conversation that goes along with such events. A country dance at which I knew practically no one and where I could already hear ambitious mamas whispering about my net worth was my definition of torture.

  We continued on to Netherfield, and I found it to be quite pleasant. The house was of good size, though not as large as Pemberley. The grounds were well kept and the interior was clean and inviting. The housekeeper and butler greeted us with kindness and gave us a quick tour of the house. Overall, I found it to be an adequate place for Bingley to try his hand at managing an estate by himself without being overwhelmed.

  The rest of the day proceeded predictably, with Bingley and I going over the estate’s documents and me helping him familiarize himself with those elements of its management that he would need to see to immediately.

  Dinner was predictable as well, with Bingley’s annoying sisters going into raptures about Netherfield and the countryside they had see from the carriage whilst being sure to inform me that it was nothing like as beautiful as Pemberley. Mr. Hurst drowned himself in his drink until he passed out on a chaise in the corner of the drawing room. At last, I made my way to my rooms and prepared for bed, looking forward to the tour of the park and surrounding environs tomorrow morning and dreading the supposed merriment that was to take place tomorrow evening.

  --- --- ---

  The next evening found me standing outside the public assembly rooms in Meryton whilst Bingley helped his sisters from the carriage, listening to the music and laughter emanating from the hall and feeling like anything but joining in. We were a bit late, due to Miss Bingley taking a ridiculous amount of time to get ready. It was apparent that she did not want to be here anymore than I, just about the only thing we had in common. I have to say that the extra time for her toilette was of questionable usefulness given that she was attired in an orange silk and lace contraption with feathers sticking up from her head. I have never understood the ton’s obsession with feather headdresses.

  “Shall we be quite safe here, do you think, Mr. Darcy?” Miss Bingley asked once she had alighted.

  “I believe I was promised yesterday by John Bennet that the local populace would not eat us, Miss Bingley. I think we will make it through the evening relatively unscathed,” I replied. While I did not want to be at this country assembly, it was because I was uncomfortable in any gathering of the sort, whether the height of the ton’s entertainments or the lowliest backwater jubilee. Miss Bingley on the other hand felt that Meryton was beneath her, and her snobbery only made me even more disinclined to pay attention to her.

  I had always been polite to Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst for Bingley’s sake, but preferred to keep away from them as much as possible. Miss Bingley had not been subtle in her attentions to me, always hinting that I should make her the next Mistress of Pemberley, despite my never responding favorably to such suggestions. Bingley had even told her point blank that I had no interest in her other than as my friend’s sister, but she never ceased her attentions. If Bingley hadn’t needed his sister to keep house for him, I would have suggested he leave her in London. It would have made the entire stay in Hertfordshire more pleasant. But it was not to be, and I had to be civil for friendship’s sake.

  We entered the assembly hall and a hush fell across the guests as all eyes turned to our party. Lord, there is nothing I detest more than being an object of speculation amongst strangers. Bingley smiled at everyone and was approached by a Sir William Lucas, who seemed to be the self-appointed emissary of the local gentry. Bingley introduced us all, and slowly the chatter in the room started up again followed shortly by the music as the dance recommenced. I spent several minutes standing mutely behind my party feeling wholly uncomfortable until at last John appeared.

  “I told you not to try that here, Darce,” was his first comment, without so much as a “Good evening” to start off.

  “Try what?”

  “Invoking the famous Darcy Mask of Inscrutability. I told you I would unleash Lizzy on you if you did.”

  “I am not afraid of your sister, John. In any event, I have not invoked anything of the sort. You know I hate events such as this. You made me come. It is your own fault if you do not find my company pleasant.”

  “Oh, stop grumbling and come along to meet my sisters.” John greeted the rest of our party, directed Miss Bingley and the Hursts to the refreshments table, and collected Bingley to meet his family as well. As we made our way across the room and past the dancers and various groups of spectators, amidst whispers of “Good friends of John Bennet” I could already hear the reports of “five thousand a year” in reference to Bingley and “ten thousand a year” in reference to myself. I detest being seen as nothing more than an annual income, and my mood only darkened further. As we neared a group of girls toward the rear of the room, John whispered, “Last chance, Darce. Stop hiding behind that mask, or I’ll c
orrect everyone’s assumption that you are worth ten thousand a year by informing them of your property in Scotland that adds an additional five thousand to your annual income.”

  “Oh, bugger off, Bennet,” I whispered back, at which John only laughed.

  I will admit that my outlook improved just a little when we stopped in front of three young women who were holding a quiet conversation amongst themselves. There was an exceedingly beautiful blond girl with an angelic smile, a rather plain but amiable looking girl with mouse brown hair, and one other girl who was laughing at whatever the plain one had said. It was this third girl who really caught my attention.

  She had dark, chestnut colored curls that bounced as she laughed and framed a pleasantly featured face. Her figure was light and pleasing, and she seemed to carry herself with a sense of decorum and well-bred manners. But it was her eyes, more than anything else, which caught and held my notice. Brightened by her laughter, her deep brown eyes were flecked with honey and gold and sparkled with wit, humor, and uncommon intelligence. I had never seen eyes like hers before.

  “Charlotte,” John addressed the plain girl. “Forgive the interruption, but might I have the honor of introducing you three to my good friends?” The girls turned toward us with more smiles and each offered curtseys as John introduced us. The plain one was Miss Charlotte Lucas, the eldest daughter of Sir William, and the blond was the eldest of John’s younger sisters, Jane. I was utterly delighted to learn that the girl with the fine eyes was none other than John’s sister, Elizabeth, the very mischief-maker about which I had heard so much.

  John then informed us that his other sister, Lydia, was currently dancing and his mother was near the refreshments table with Lady Lucas. His father had remained at home, not being inclined to join in such events. John pointedly directed this particular comment to me. I replied with a raised eyebrow.

  It was Elizabeth who spoke first. “It is delightful to meet you both at last. We have heard much of you from John for years but had begun to despair of every actually meeting you.”

  “It is an honor, Miss Elizabeth,” Bingley responded. I looked at him and noticed that while he had spoken to Elizabeth, his gaze had never left Miss Bennet. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Bingley never could resist a blond. “Miss Bennet,” he continued. “If you are not otherwise engaged, would you do me the honor of dancing the next with me?”

  Miss Bennet smiled her angelic smile and accepted his offer, and the two moved off to join the newly forming set. A young man came to claim Miss Lucas for the set as well, and John and I were left with Elizabeth. I knew I should probably ask her to dance, but I could not bring myself to do it. I really do not like to dance.

  I turned back from watching Bingley with Miss Bennet to find John watching me and fighting to hide his amusement. I then looked at Elizabeth who was looking back and forth between her brother and me trying to determine just why her brother was amused. At last, she asked, “Do you not dance, Mr. Darcy?”

  “Not if I can help it,” I replied. John’s amusement spilled over into laughter, and I glared at him.

  “Darcy is quite a good dancer,” he told his sister. “But he hates the exercise unless he has known his partner for at least a good four years.”

  I noticed Elizabeth’s eyes light up with her own amusement, and before I could stop myself, I blurted, “I find myself ill-qualified to recommend myself to strangers.”

  Elizabeth addressed her brother, “Shall we ask him why? Why a man of sense and education who has lived in the world should find himself ill-qualified to recommend himself to strangers?”

  John’s eyes gleamed at me, as if to say, I told you so, and he answered, “I can tell you without applying to him. It is because he will not give himself the trouble.”

  “I have not that talent, which you possess John, of conversing easily with those I have never met before.”

  Again, Elizabeth spoke to her brother, “Shall I give him the advice that Charlotte is forever giving me?” John nodded, and she turned to me with an arched eyebrow. I found myself holding my breath. “You see, Mr. Darcy, I am always being urged to practice the pianoforte by my friend as she delights in forcing me to play whenever her father gives a party at Lucas Lodge. My fingers do not move over the instrument with the same speed or fluidity, which I see so many women’s do. However, I have always considered that to be my own fault, since, despite Charlotte’s urging, I will not take the trouble of practicing.”

  I released my breath and found that, despite myself, I was amused by this strange girl with the bewitching eyes and impertinent comments. “No doubt you have employed your time much better,” I told her, relaxing my demeanor regardless of any continued discomfort with my present location. “I am sure that no one admitted to the privilege of hearing you at your good friend’s home could think anything wanting. We, neither of us, perform to strangers.”

  I was treated to musical laughter from Elizabeth, and I felt myself relax even more. Was it just me, or did this young woman have this effect on everyone? Bemused, I watched her laugh and realized this was the first time in quite a good while that I had enjoyed a conversation with a woman who was not related to me. Despite her teasing, Elizabeth was very pleasant and delivered her impertinent comments with such an air that rendered them endearing rather than insulting. However, she was not, as most women who were not related to me were, attempting to ingratiate herself with me. She was simply being herself and enjoying a lively conversation with her brother and me.

  I tore my eyes from Elizabeth when I heard John clear his throat. He had one eyebrow arched in the same manner his sister had moments ago and appeared amused by my bemusement with his sister. I rolled my eyes at him then turned back to her. “Miss Elizabeth, would you do me the honor of dancing the next with me?”

  She smiled and replied, “Of course, sir. I feel honored that I have been given such a privilege after so short an acquaintance with you.” I smiled back at her. Her brother laughed, and I had the distinct impression that he was laughing at me, rather than at what his sister had said.

  I stood by and watched as she and John chatted idly about various goings on in the neighborhood while he had been away until the music began for the next set. I led her to our places, bowed, and began dancing with her. As John had said, I merely dislike the occupation; I am not deficient in it. Elizabeth was quite good as well, and we moved fluidly down the dance. After a few minutes of silence, Elizabeth said, “I believe we must have some little conversation, Mr. Darcy. A very little will suffice and will be excellent practice for you.”

  I smiled at her, but the dance moved us apart. When we were rejoined she continued, “You might say something about the dance, or I might comment on the number of couples.”

  “I shall say whatever you wish me to, Miss Elizabeth,” I replied.

  She grinned. “Very well—That reply will do for now—Perhaps I may offer some new observation, by and by, but for now we may be silent.”

  We continued on for a bit, until I decided to take her advice and actually attempt to practice speaking with a person I had just met. “Do you talk by rule, then, while you are dancing?”

  “Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be entirely silent for half an hour together, and yet for the advantage of some, conversation ought to be so arranged as that they may have the trouble of saying as little as possible,” was her response.

  “Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do you seek to gratify mine?”

  “Both, I imagine.” Raising one eyebrow again, she continued. “You have hardly spoken to anyone but my brother sine you arrived, leading me to believe we have a great similarity in the turn of our minds. We are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say something that will amaze the whole room.”

  “This is no very striking resemblance of your own character, I am sure,” I said. “How near it may be to mine, I cannot pretend to say�
�You think it is a faithful portrait undoubtedly.” I did not know quite what to make of this girl. He eyes and her smile were captivating, and I had heard many an intriguing story from her brother. But, she persisted in teasing me and was unafraid to say anything that came to her mind. I was unused to being teased, particularly by a woman.

  “I must not decide on my own performance,” she said. We continued in silence for a bit until we came to the end of the row and were interrupted by Sir William Lucas as we waited for the dancing to recommence. With a bow of deepest—almost abject—courtesy, he complimented me on my dancing and my partner.

  “I have been most highly gratified indeed, my dear sir. Such very superior dancing is not often seen. It is evident that you belong to the first circles. Allow me to say, however, that your fair partner does not disgrace you, and that I must hope to have this pleasure often repeated, while you are in the country.” Sir William bowed again and moved off. I looked about us and realized that we were, in fact, being watched by everyone in the room—or at least those who were not already occupied watching Bingley dance with Miss Lucas or John with Miss Bingley. Good God! I would have to be careful not to let Bingley or myself show particular attention to any lady, or this community would have us married in a fortnight—however much one lady might have been able to intrigue me.

  The dance began to move again, and I struggled for something to say. “Sir William’s interruption has made me forget of what we were talking.”

  “I do not believe we were speaking at all. Sir William could not have interrupted any two people who had less to say for themselves. We have tried two or three subjects already without success, and what we are to talk of next I cannot imagine.” I had the distinct impression that I was verbally dueling with this woman. And was being soundly thrashed.