Duels of Every Sort Read online

  “Thank you, Mr. Bingley, but I am sure these will do just fine.” I tried to see which book she had chosen as she settled on a settee, but I could not make it out from my place at the card table. Again, I was recalled to my purpose of not paying Elizabeth too much attention in the presence of Miss Bingley when she called my attention back to her. “What a delightful library you have at Pemberley, Mr. Darcy!”

  “It ought to be good,” I replied. “It has been the work of many generations.”

  “And then you have added so much to it yourself, you are always buying books.”

  I refrained from rolling my eyes, particularly as Miss Bingley never looked into her brother’s meager collection any more than Bingley did. “I cannot comprehend the neglect of a family library in such days as these,” was all I said.

  “Neglect!” continued Miss Bingley’s fawning over me. “I am sure you neglect nothing that can add to the beauties of that noble place. Charles, when you build your house, I wish it may be half as delightful as Pemberley.”

  “I wish it may,” Bingley said.

  “But I would really advise you to make your purchase in that neighborhood, and take Pemberley for a kind of model. There is not a finer county in England than Derbyshire.” I reflected that this must have been at least the thirtieth time I had heard her make such a statement.

  “With all my heart; I would buy Pemberley itself, if Darcy would sell it.”

  “I am talking of possibilities, Charles.”

  “Upon my word, Caroline, I should think it more possible to get Pemberley by purchase than by imitation.” Elizabeth had apparently tired of her book and drew near the table. She stationed herself opposite me to observe our play, and I caught a glimpse of the title of the book in her hand. It was a dry history that I had abandoned myself earlier that day, and I wondered not at her lack of interest in it.

  Again, Miss Bingley called my attention away. “Is Miss Darcy much grown since the spring? Will she be as tall as I am?”

  I glanced at Elizabeth again to find her looking at Miss Bingley with thinly veiled diversion. “I think she will. She is now about Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s height, or rather taller.” Elizabeth’s gaze shifted to me, and a look of shared mirth passed between us.

  “How I long to see her again! I never met with anybody who delighted me so much. Such a countenance, such manners! And, so extremely accomplished for her age! Her performance on the pianoforte is exquisite.”

  Here, BIngley offered, “It is amazing to me how young ladies can have patience to be so very accomplished as they all are.”

  “All young ladies accomplished! My dear Charles, what do you mean?”

  “Yes, all of them I think. They all paint tables, cover screens, and net purses. I scarcely know any one who cannot do all this, and I am sure I never heard a young lady spoken of for the first time without being informed that she was very accomplished.”

  “Your list of the common extent of the accomplishments,” I said, “has too much truth. The word is applied to many a woman who deserves it no otherwise than by netting a purse or covering a screen. But I am very far from agreeing with you in your estimation of ladies in general. I cannot boast of knowing more than half a dozen, in the whole range of my acquaintance, that are really accomplished.”

  “Nor I, I am sure,” agreed Miss Bingley.

  “Then,” observed Elizabeth, her bright eyes on me, “you must comprehend a great deal in your idea of an accomplished woman.”

  I smiled slightly. “Yes, I do comprehend a great deal in it.”

  Miss Bingley carried on as though she were my faithful assistant, “Oh! Certainly. No one can be really esteemed accomplished who does not greatly surpass what is usually met with. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages to deserve the word. And besides all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word will be but half deserved.”

  It was a great struggle not to roll my eyes as I met Elizabeth’s gaze whilst listening to this speech. Elizabeth seemed to be undergoing an equal struggle. When Miss Bingley had finished, I looked straight at Elizabeth and added, “To all this she must yet add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind by extensive reading.”

  I am not sure what exactly made me say that. I had been trying, all evening and quite unsuccessfully, not to pay Elizabeth any pointed attention. I seemed incapable of it. Elizabeth’s cheeks colored slightly as she looked down at the book still in her hands. “I am no longer surprised at your knowing only six accomplished women. I rather wonder now at your knowing any.”

  I was sure Elizabeth had understood my compliment when she looked up at me again, her eyes sparkling and embarrassed. I said, “Are you so severe upon your own sex as to doubt the possibility of all this?”

  “I never saw such a woman,” was her response. “I never saw such capacity, and taste, and application, and elegance, as you describe, united.”

  I held her gaze and was about to reply, when Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst beat me to it. They both cried out against the injustice of her implied doubt and began protesting that they knew many women who answered this description. Elizabeth turned away, biting her bottom lip to keep from laughing aloud, at this complete contradiction of Miss Bingley’s previous statements. I, too, was hard pressed to stifle my laughter. I had never enjoyed a conversation with Miss Bingley so much as I did when Elizabeth was there to share the absurdity of it. Mr. Hurst then called our attention back to the game and Elizabeth left soon afterwards to see to her sister.

  As soon as she was gone, Miss Bingley said, “Eliza Bennet is one of those young ladies who seek to recommend themselves to the other sex by undervaluing their own; and with many men, I dare say, it succeeds. But, in my opinion, it is a paltry device, a very mean art.”

  My patience with Miss Bingley’s disparagement of Elizabeth was at an end for the evening. “Undoubtedly,” I replied,” there is a meanness in all the arts, which ladies sometimes condescend to employ for captivation. Whatever bears affinity to cunning is despicable.”

  This had the desired effect, and the rest of the card game continued in silence. Elizabeth only returned that evening to say that her sister was worse and that she could not leave her again. Bingley was of a mind to call for Mr. Jones, and Elizabeth was persuaded that this might be done if Miss Bennet had not improved by morning. She left again to go above stairs.

  Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst declared themselves miserable for nearly two minutes before playing duets at the pianoforte in good spirits for the rest of the evening. Bingley, however, was genuinely uncomfortable and repeatedly instructed the housekeeper to see to any possible attention that could make Miss Bennet more comfortable.

  “Do not worry yourself too much Charles. It is unfortunate, but Miss Bennet only has a cold. She will be well again in a very few days time.” I tried to offer him some measure of comfort, but it appeared to help very little. I was more concerned than I had let on, too. Elizabeth had looked quite disconcerted when she had reported the decline of her sister’s state. There was nothing I could do to help her either. I prayed that Miss Bennet’s fever would break and that the sparkle would reappear in Elizabeth’s eyes.

  I found it rather difficult to sleep that night, knowing Elizabeth was just a few doors down the hallway. When I finally did sleep, I dreamed of her again.

  --- --- ---

  The next morning, we received favorable reports of Miss Bennet’s health. It seemed her fever had broken during the night, and she was feeling a little better. John appeared later that morning to check on her. He and Elizabeth joined the rest of us in the breakfast room after Mr. Jones had seen to Miss Bennet.

  “John,” Bingley said. “I hope you have not found Miss Bennet worse than you expected.”

  “No, Charles. I have not. However, Mr. Jones suggests that she not be moved yet, and I must tell you tha
t the quiet here at Netherfield will help her recover far more quickly than if she were at Longbourn. May we trespass upon your hospitality a bit longer?”

  “Of course!” cried Bingley. “I will not hear of her removal until her she is completely well. Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth are welcome to stay as long as necessary.”

  Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst exchanged a look of displeasure at this statement. They clearly wanted the place to themselves again. I, on the other hand, could only think that this would mean spending yet more time under the same roof with Miss Elizabeth. I could not decide whether this was good or bad. I wanted to spend as much time with her as I could, but I couldn’t allow myself to do that.

  Elizabeth looked from the Bingley sisters to Bingley to me and seemed uncomfortable. I got the distinct impression that she would rather go home but would stay for her sister. Her obvious love and devotion to Miss Bennet was endearing. I wondered what it would be like to be on the receiving end of such love. Wonderful, I should think.

  John stayed on for a while and conversation turned to Bingley’s impression of Netherfield. “I am quite pleased with it. I think I should be happy to stay in Hertfordshire for quite some time.”

  “Then, do you intend to extend your short lease?” John asked. “You will not quit the place in a hurry?”

  “You know me well enough, John, to know that whatever I do is done in a hurry,” replied Bingley. “Therefore if I should resolve to quit Netherfield, I should probably be off in five minutes. At present, however, I consider myself as quite fixed here.”

  “That is exactly what I should have supposed of you,” said Elizabeth.

  “You begin to comprehend me, do you?” cried he, turning toward her.

  “Oh, yes! I understand you perfectly.”

  Bingley laughed. “I wish I might take this for a compliment; but to be so easily seen through I am afraid is pitiful.”

  “That is as it happens. It does not necessarily follow that a deep, intricate character is more or less estimable than such a one as yours,” was her response.

  “I did not know before,” continued Bingley, “that you were a studier of character. It must be an amusing study.”

  Elizabeth cocked her head and arched an eyebrow. “Yes, but intricate characters are the most amusing. They have that advantage at least.” She glanced in my direction with this statement, and I felt my pulse leap in the most absurd manner. The woman glanced at me, and my heart raced! I was truly in danger.

  “The country,” I said to her, “can in general supply but few subjects for such a study. In a country neighborhood you move in a very confined unvarying society.”

  “But people themselves alter so much that there is something new to be observed in them forever.”

  “That is true, I suppose.”

  “Besides,” John said. “The country is much quieter. A vast deal more pleasant than all that noise in town, don’t you think?”

  Bingley stated, “When I am in the country, I never wish to leave it; and when I am in town it is pretty much the same. They have each their advantages, and I can be equally happy in either.”

  Here the conversation turned, and Elizabeth asked John if Charlotte Lucas had visited Longbourn while she was away.

  “Yes, she called yesterday with her father, Sir William. But, I did not see her. I was busy with Father, and she did not stay for dinner.”

  “She seems a very pleasant young woman,” said Bingley.

  “It is a pity for her she is so plain,” Miss Bingley said. I quickly turned my eyes to Elizabeth. Her own were filled with anger, but she could not openly contradict Miss Bingley without being equally rude.

  “Oh yes, she is nothing to dear Jane,” added Louisa. “Jane has a sort of beauty that would induce a man to write poetry for her.” I could not help rolling my eyes at this. Honestly, where did Miss Bingley and Louisa get off? I wished they would choose whether to insult the populace of Hertfordshire or praise it. They changed their opinions on Miss Bennet and the rest with each passing moment depending on what struck their fancy. It was tiresome.

  John seemed to sense the volatility of Elizabeth’s composure and tried to keep the conversation moving. Since Miss Bennet seemed to be held in esteem by all in the room, he said, “Actually, there was a gentlemen when Jane was fifteen who claimed to be in love with her. He wrote some verses on her that were rather diverting.”

  “And so ended his affection,” Elizabeth added, in slightly better humor for the recollection. “There has been many a one, I fancy, overcome in the same way. I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love!”

  I sent her a quizzical look. “I have been used to consider poetry as the food of love.”

  That eyebrow of hers rose again. “Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Everything nourishes what is strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away.” I grinned at her.

  “Then, what would you suggest to encourage affection?”

  “Dancing, Mr. Darcy,” she replied, without missing a beat. “Even if every savage can dance.” Our eyes met and held fast.

  John cleared his throat and said, “Yes, well. I must be on my way, I’m afraid. Charles, thank you again for your hospitality to my sisters. It is greatly appreciated, I assure you.”

  Bingley assured John it was his pleasure. John continued, “Darcy, might I have a word before I go?”

  “Of course.” I was a bit startled at his address. John never called me Darcy. It was always Darce. He only reverted to Darcy when it was quite serious—and John was rarely serious. We excused ourselves from the company, and I followed John into Bingley’s sparsely stocked library. “What can I do for you?”

  John looked directly at me and said, quite seriously, “You can tell me just what your intentions toward Lizzy are.”

  My eyes widened in disbelief. I hadn’t thought I was that transparent. “I—I beg your pardon?” I sputtered.

  “Look, Darce. I’m not blind. I can see you are attracted to Lizzy—you seek her out at every meeting and hardly speak to anyone else. I also know that a marriage to Lizzy is not exactly what your family has in mind. Lizzy is not in love with you yet, but if you continue arguing with her they way you do, she is bound to realize just how much she likes you. And you two being thrown into the same house together for the next few days can only expedite that.”

  I turned away and paced to the window. John was right. I was attracted to her. And not just physically, though she was beautiful, but she was also so bright and witty and funny. I knew if I let myself, I could easily fall in love with her. Hell, I was halfway there already.

  “I’ve had a similar conversation with Charles already regarding Jane. He says that he’s in love with her and wants to court her, and I know Jane will be very happy with such a circumstance. I gave him my blessing, and he said he would seek my father’s once Jane is well again. My family is not so far beneath his socially. He may be wealthier than we are, but his fortune comes from trade, while my father is a gentleman with long heritage—It isn’t such a stretch for him. I’ll be happy to welcome him as a brother when it gets to that. Your family, however, is another matter.

  “You are a good friend, Darce” he continued. “I know you would never dally with Lizzy, but I was not sure if you knew what you were doing. Nothing would make me happier than to see you and Lizzy together, but I realize how unlikely that is. I don’t want to see her hurt, so I’m putting you on your guard.”

  I heard his comments regarding Bingley and Miss Bennet with some surprise. I hadn’t known Bingley thought of taking it so far. John was right, too, in that Bingley could marry Jane Bennet without the social backlash that I might encounter. It made me happy, also, that John felt Miss Bennet did welcome Bingley’s attentions. I had not been sure and had been on the point of interfering due to Bingley’s overt regard for her. It suddenly occurred to me how officious that would h
ave been. It was Bingley’s choice after all, and it appeared he would now make the courtship official.

  However, I also felt a twinge of jealousy that it seemed Bingely would have his Miss Bennet, while I could not allow myself to have mine. It was exactly designed to show me just how much I wanted Elizabeth.

  John was not quite finished, “If you hurt her, Darce, I’ll have no choice but to call you out over it regardless of being your friend. You know how much Lizzy means to me. And you know that it’s not certain which of us would be the victor if such a thing came about. I’m not one of the dandies that have called you out in town, and we both know that this would be over more than a polite ‘good evening’ or a smile. So, please be careful with her.”

  I stared out at the garden in silence for a few moments. John just let me think, knowing I would speak when I was ready. At last, I turned to face him. “I understand your warning, John, and I understand why you had to issue it. You are right; I like Miss Elizabeth very much.” I paused. Having said it aloud just made it all the more real. I ran a hand through my hair in agitation. “I promise I will think hard about what you said, and I promise I will not hurt her. But, I’m not prepared to say anything further at this time.”

  “Very well, Darce. I just had to make sure you were aware of things.” John offered his hand, and I shook it. Our friendship would not suffer for his warning. In fact, had it been Georgiana, I would have done the same.

  John left for Longbourn, and I went for a long ride, at the end of which, I was no closer to a resolution than I had been before. I knew I wanted Elizabeth, that having her for my wife would be wonderful, but I did not know how to reconcile that with a lifetime of lessons about my obligations in marriage. Could I go against my family, society, and everything I had been taught and seize a chance at happiness?