Duels of Every Sort Read online

  In an attempt to find a topic about which she could not tease or outmaneuver me, I tried, “What think you of books?”

  Her eyes sparkled mischievously, “Books—Oh! no.—I am sure we never read the same, or not with the same feelings.”

  I frowned slightly. I was usually not very good at conversation with strangers, especially women, and most particularly women I find attractive. Coherent and rational thought seemed to run screaming out my ear at such moments. Elizabeth and her impertinence had me even more tongue tied than usual. In a desperate verbal parry, I replied, “I am sorry you think so; but if that be the case, there can at least be no want of subject—We may compare our different opinions.”

  I watched her as the dance separated us again. For a moment, she appeared to be considering another teasing reply but then decided to take pity on me and offered one of her favorite authors for discussion. I was surprised and happy to find that I, too, greatly enjoyed the subject’s work. We spent the remainder of the dance alternately comparing opinions and teasing each other about all manner of literary subjects. We did not always agree, but I discovered that her opinions, even when contrary to my own, were intelligent and well thought out. It was a pleasant change for me to have a woman challenge my opinions rather than defer to them.

  When the music came to an end, I led Elizabeth over to where Bingley, Miss Bennet, Miss Lucas, and John were standing. John gave Elizabeth a teasing kiss on the cheek, “Survived a dance with Darce, did you Lizzy?”

  “Of course, Johnny,” she smilingly replied. “He was quite entertaining actually.”

  I returned her smile, “Glad I could be of service.” Our little group continued our conversation until the next dance began and new partners claimed the girls. I watched a man I had not met lead Elizabeth away and was surprised to feel a twinge of jealousy. I quickly dismissed this notion, however. We had only just met, and she was John’s sister, after all.

  My attention was recalled to my companions when BIngley said, “John, your sister is an angel!”

  “Who, Jane? Yes, that’s the customary reaction to meeting her. Lizzy on the other hand leaves the impression of being a polite devil. And then there’s Lydia, who is just silly.”

  I could not disagree with his assessment. I had found the few minutes I had spend in Miss Bennet’s company pleasant enough, and my observation of Miss Lydia as she danced was that she was far too exuberant and needed to be checked. And, Elizabeth most definitely had a devilish wit. However, I felt the need to caution my less reserved friend.

  “No offense intended, John. I quite like your sisters,” I began. “But, Charles, look around you. Every person in the room is watching us. I would suggest that you do not pay too much attention to any one young lady, Miss Bennet or otherwise, or you will find yourself the target of the local matchmaking mamas.”

  “No offense taken, Darce. After all, every matchmaking mama in the area has been trying to get me married off for years, including my own. And it is only fair to warn you that my mother’s goal in life is to get her three daughters married as quickly as possible. Not that Lizzy or Jane listen, but Mother can still be a trial.”

  “Oh, Darcy. You are always so worried about matchmaking mamas and fortune hunters. Can you not just enjoy yourself for once?” Bingley asked.

  “Charles, if you had spent the past five years having every single woman in London or whatever county you visit thrown in your way and then had their brothers or fiancés call you out for nothing more than a polite ‘good evening’ or a smile, you would understand.”

  “Careful,” John said. “You are scowling again. I’ll have to set Lizzy after you if don’t stop.”

  I merely rolled my eyes at him and excused myself to ask Mrs. Hurst to dance. I figured I might as well get my obligatory dances with Bingley’s sisters out of the way. The rest of the evening passed as pleasantly as could be expected at such an event. I danced with Miss Bennet and found her very pleasant if rather quiet. Miss Lucas was a pleasant enough partner as well. I also danced with Miss Lydia and found her silly and annoying.

  Bingley asked Miss Bennet to dance again, but I resisted the urge to ask Elizabeth for another dance when I saw how much attention was paid to Bingley’s compliment to her sister. She and I only spoke a few minutes more the whole evening, but when we finally left and I had managed to tune out the complaints of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, I found myself thinking about a pair of fine eyes and an impertinent manner.

  Chapter Three

  My stay in Hertfordshire was turning out to be quite pleasant. The next fortnight was spent in the company of Bingley and John and various members of their families. I spent a good deal of time helping Bingley become acquainted with the workings of Netherfield Park, and we were both pleased to find everything in good order as well as begin plans for improvements. Dealing with such estate matters had the double advantage of helping Bingley and keeping Miss Bingley away from me.

  I spent the rest of my time out of doors as much as possible. Bingley, John, Hurst, and I went shooting. John’s father, Mr. Bennet, joined us once or twice, and I soon learned just where John and Elizabeth had acquired their quick minds—I’d earlier determined from my brief introduction to her at the assembly that it was not from Mrs. Bennet. I had already dueled with the son and daughter and did not escape our initial meeting without crossing wits with the father, as well.

  We traded verbal parries for about five minutes on the subject of the Corsican, John all the while alternately laughing—at what I did not know—and encouraging his father to continue, until Mr. Bennet said, “Yes, well. You’ll do,” then turned his full attention to his rifle and headed out across the field.

  Startled by being summarily dismissed in such a manner, I turned to John, who was nearly doubled over in a fit of most unseemly laughter. Honestly, the man was giggling like schoolgirl! When he had regained a smidgen of his composure, he informed me, “Lizzy told him about your meeting—“ more giggles ”—and of course, he’s heard about you from me as well.” He continued, unsuccessfully, to reign in his amusement. “He could not wait to meet you. He doesn’t even like shooting. He only came because he wanted to see if you lived up to the tales he’s heard.”

  I was not sure what to make of this information. Was it a compliment that Mr. Bennet had ventured from his library, which I understood he left but rarely, to meet me because his son and daughter had found trading wits with me amusing? I supposed his last comment meant that I had lived up to whatever he had been told about me. I had to admit I had enjoyed our sparring match, too, and began to think that dinners at the Bennet home must be quite lively affairs with Mr. Bennet, John, and Elizabeth all at the same table.

  I had the opportunity to witness such an event firsthand a few days later. Bingley and I had ridden over to Longbourn to go riding with John and were invited to stay for dinner afterward. Bingley happily accepted for the both of us, all the while staring dreamily at Miss Bennet. Elizabeth was not in the house, and I later learned that she had gone for a solitary walk—an activity she enjoyed regularly and for which I could not blame her as Mrs. Bennet began blathering on about all manner of subjects, Miss Lydia adding equally banal commentary on anything to do with the regiment of militia that had just arrived in the area. Happily they required very little in the way of response. Bingley was in close conversation with Miss Bennet, oblivious to the rest of the room, and John was simply watching me watch his mother ramble on, an eyebrow arched in amusement.

  I had had my fill after a very few minutes in that company. I wondered how a man as intelligent and discerning as Mr. Bennet with equally witty children in John and Elizabeth and the very pleasant Jane could have such a wife and could allow his youngest child to go on as she did. The three elder children seemed to have been given guidance and a good education. What had happened with the youngest? I knew that she was just fifteen and a good five years younger than her next eldest sibling, Elizabeth. I could find no other excuse than that she w
as the baby and overly indulged. I decided I would avoid her, whenever possible, in much the same way I avoided Miss Bingley.

  After nearly fifteen minutes of inane chatter, John took pity on me. “Darce, what do you say to some fencing practice out in the yard? It has been quite a good while since I crossed blades with a man that can keep up with me as well as you used to at university. After watching you with Billings the other morning, it does not appear as though you have lost any of your skill in the past four years.”

  “An excellent suggestion, John. It will be a nice change actually to be challenged with a blade as you used to at Cambridge.” Physical exertion seemed like just the thing to regain the wits that Mrs. Bennet’s and Miss Lydia’s conversation had scattered. “Charles, will you join us?”

  I saw the struggle it was for Bingley to tear his eyes away from Miss Bennet long enough to answer. “Thank you, but no. You know I have not anything like your skill with a foil. I would much rather remain here with the ladies.”

  Miss Bennet smiled at his remark, though her smile seemed to be generally serene and directed at the whole room. It was becoming quite obvious that Bingley was enchanted, but I wondered if Miss Bennet’s heart was likely to be easily touched. I had often seen Bingley in love before. I did not want his heart to be broken yet again, this time by the sister of a dear friend. I decided to watch them closely from now on.

  John and I gathered two foils from a storeroom and proceeded to an open area of Longbourn’s well-tended garden. I had found the country estate a bit on the small side, but very pleasant and well kept. It had recovered well from the fire four years ago and would be a good estate for John to inherit on his father’s death, with a number of tenant farmers and several other livings.

  “En guard,” called John, and our fencing practice began. John was just as challenging an opponent as I remembered. We had begun, merely for our own amusement, with our blades in our left hands. Aside from his general prowess, John was one of the few men I knew who had taken the time to train with both hands. I parried, he offered a riposte, we stepped and shuffled, thrust and blocked. It took quite a while for me to find a chink in his defenses and score a hit.

  “Ah!” he cried. “Well done, Will. That was an excellent warm-up.”

  Grinning, I offered, “Shall we move on to the main event?”

  John returned my grin; we switched our blades to our right hands and were off again. This time, our battle was quicker, smoother, more decisive. We ranged all over the lawn behind the house. At one point, John’s cheeky grin reappeared, and he jumped on the low garden wall daring me to join him. Never one to back down from a challenge, I leapt up, and we continued our battle all the while balancing on the uneven stonework.

  John and I were infinitely well matched. I do not know how long the battle raged, but at last we each scored a hit simultaneously. Trading grins and breathing hard, we saluted one another and dismounted the wall.

  I spun around at the sound of light applause. “Thank you, gentlemen. That was quite entertaining.” There stood Elizabeth, looking just as fetching in her plain spencer coat as she had in her ball gown the last time I had seen her. Her eyes sparkled with amusement and her cheeks had a rosy flush from the exertion of her walk. I had nearly regained my breath before she had made her presence known. I now lost it just as quickly.

  Elizabeth was smiling her arch smile, one eyebrow raised, and I felt myself blushing. Me! Blushing! I make it a point never to color, particularly in front of a woman—an extremely attractive woman, at that. But I was standing there in my shirtsleeves, having discarded my coat before the duel, after being caught dueling atop a wall like a twelve year old boy with Elizabeth’s brother. And I could not stop staring at her, either.

  John was apparently unconcerned at the less than proper position in which his sister had found us. He laughed and called out, “Lizzy!” as he moved to kiss her cheek. “Had a pleasant walk, did you?”

  “Yes, Johnny, quite pleasant,” she said as she greeted her brother in return. “Though not nearly as pleasant as your afternoon excursion appears to have been.” She and John laughed, and I joined in for lack of anything better to do. I felt my embarrassment melt away with her laughter.

  “It is a pleasure to see you again, Miss Elizabeth.” I bowed to her as formally as I could in my less than formal state of dress. She curtsied in return, and John explained that Bingley and I had been invited to dinner.

  “I see,” was her response. “So, this is your way of passing the time whilst avoiding Mama?”

  “Of course,” John said.

  “Mr. Bingley, did not join you?”

  “If you had ever seen Charles with a foil, you would understand why,” John told her. “Besides, I believe he found Jane a much more pleasant distraction than watching Darce and I spar.” Brother and sister shared a knowing look before John continued, “Fancy a fencing lesson, Lizzy?”

  I was shocked at his suggestion. That he would encourage his sister to participate in what was solely a gentleman’s pursuit was quite improper, though I do not suppose I should have been surprised as the suggestion had come from eternally mischievous John Bennet. Elizabeth glanced from her brother to me, “No, thank you. I believe I shall return indoors. I’m rather tired after my long walk.”

  She curtsied to me again and started to turn toward the house, but John stopped her. “Oh, come on. Have a bit of fun, Lizzy.” He then turned to me. “You know, Darce, growing up, Lizzy here was forever—“

  “Watching Johnny learn to fence,” Elizabeth interjected. John gave her an odd look and she continued, speaking quickly, “He has always been so good at it, that it’s quite something to watch. You obviously have equal skill, Mr. Darcy.”

  “Thank you,” I replied, looking from her to John and back again. What had John been about to say? “I’m glad I could offer you a source of entertainment once again.”

  “I was vastly entertained, I assure you.” She smiled, shot what appeared to be a warning look at her brother, and started toward the house. John watched Elizabeth for a moment, then shrugged and followed her. I followed as well.

  We were chatting amiably as we crossed the lawn and passed under a large oak tree when my head was suddenly accosted from above by what appeared to be a furry gray mass with very sharp claws. “What the devil?!” I cried.

  “Mr. Collins!” I heard Elizabeth gasp as I struggled to disentangle myself from the hissing fur ball. “Don’t just stand there, John. Help him!”

  Laughing, John reached up, gave a good yank, and came away with not only the fur ball, but also part of my sleeve and, I was sure, a large chunk of my hair. Whatever it was continued to struggle in John’s arms until he set it down and it darted off.

  “What, in God’s name, was that?” I nearly shouted, attempting to restore some semblance of order to my hair and inspecting the damage to my shirt.

  Elizabeth rushed to my side, “Are you all right, Mr. Darcy? I’m so sorry! Really, sir, are you injured?”

  Hearing the note of true concern and feeling the warmth of her hand on my arm, I straightened and replied, “Only my pride.” Elizabeth relaxed and smiled, unfortunately removing her hand as well. “What,” I asked again, “was that?”

  “That was Mr. Collins,” John replied.

  “What is a Mr. Collins?” I wanted to know.

  “Mr. Collins is my cat, Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth, now that she had assured herself that I was uninjured, was trying to stifle her own amusement. “I’m really very sorry. He’s usually much better behaved.” A small smile curved her lips, and I found myself returning it with a smile of my own.

  “No, he is not, Lizzy! You know he’s always been completely psychotic.” .

  My shock abated, and my smile widened. “Why, might I inquire, do you have a cat named Mr. Collins?” Elizabeth’s cheeks were overspread with the most charming blush, and John could not contain more laughter.

  It was John who explained, “When Lizzy was about twelve, my fath
er’s cousin, Mr. Collins, who would have inherited Longbourn if I had not been born a male, came to visit us after his father’s death. Collins is a silly, insipid fool who went about trying to flatter my mother and sisters at every possible turn. Shortly after he left, Lizzy found a kitten on a walk and brought it home. The way that the kitten followed Lizzy around reminded her of the way that Mr. Collins had followed my mother around, offering compliments on every aspect of Longbourn he could. So, the cat has been known as Mr. Collins ever since. And since it is a few apples short of a bushel, it quite lived up to its name.”

  By now, I was chuckling too, not only at the story but also at Elizabeth’s continued embarrassment. “I was twelve!” she defended herself.

  John continued, “It had the added bonus of offending the human Mr. Collins so much on his next visit that he has not bothered us again.”

  Now Elizabeth was smiling as well. “Yes, Papa thanked me profusely once he was gone.”

  I continued to be amused as I ran my hands through my hair in an attempt to subdue it and inspected a small scratch on my shoulder where Mr. Collins’ claws had ripped my shirt. “Are you sure you are all right, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth asked, quietly.

  “I’m perfectly well, Miss Elizabeth. I thank you for your concern, but I am no worse off but for being a bit ruffled.” She really was adorable when embarrassed.

  At last, John and I reclaimed our coats from where we had left them in preparation for our fencing match and entered the house.

  --- --- ---

  I had been right in supposing that a dinner in the Bennet household was a rather boisterous affair. At one end of the table sat Mrs. Bennet, Bingley, Miss Bennet and Miss Lydia. Mrs. Bennet and Miss Lydia dominated most of the conversation, telling Bingley all about the militia, who would be quartered in Meryton throughout the winter, and any other subject they could think of—much of which included promoting Miss Bennet as the most beautiful girl in the country and the most agreeable. Miss Bennet deflected many of her mother’s improper—and loud—comments with the ease of long practice, and Bingley absorbed the rest with his customary good humor. I could not fault Miss Bennet’s manners, but I did not approve of Mrs. Bennet or Miss Lydia and did my best to ignore them. Which turned out to be easier than I would have thought.