“Why?” His voice was sharp now, concerned. “What happened?”
“Mr. Bingley’s guest insulted me. He called me tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt him within my hearing. I…” Her chin lifted. “I challenged him to a duel.”
For a long moment, her father said nothing. Then: “What, exactly, did he do when you demanded satisfaction?”
“He stepped back in disbelief. Then disdain settled upon his features.”
“Then you walked home. Alone.”
“I was not thinking clearly, Papa. I only knew I must leave.”
Thomas Bennet rose from his chair, crossing to her. He placed both hands on her shoulders, studying her face. “Most young ladies would weep into their pillows after such an insult. You challenged him to combat instead.” A smile tugged at his lips. “I suppose I should have expected this. You are, after all, my daughter.”
“You taught me well, Papa.”
“That I did. Though I confess, when I began your instruction, I did not anticipate you would use it quite so…decisively.” He studied her with pride. “Do you recall Mr. Collingwood?”
Elizabeth’s smile turned sharp. “He believed his aggressive opening would overwhelm me. His belief that only my wit was rapier sharp proved to be to his detriment.”
“He underestimated his opponent. A fatal error.” Grinning widely, he added, “And Sir Christopher Knott? He, too, was confident in his superior skill.”
“His confidence was his weakness. He focused on offense and neglected his defense entirely.” Elizabeth’s eyes gleamed. “I exploited the opening he left and finished him in six moves.”
“And this Mr. Darcy? What is his weakness?”
“If he proves as arrogant as I suspect, he will make early mistakes. I will capitalize on them swiftly.” She lifted her chin. “If he proves more skilled than expected, I am prepared to be patient. Either way, Papa, he will fall.”
Her father’s grin widened. “Do you intend to…finish this quickly? Or make him suffer?”
Elizabeth considered. “I will give him the opportunity to defend himself properly. But Papa?” Her smile was absolutely wicked. “I do intend to make a point he will never forget.”
“That’s my girl.” He squeezed her shoulders gently, then released her. “Wake me early, my dear girl. I shall need the fortification of strong tea before we proceed.”
After hugging her father, Elizabeth heard his chuckling all the way to her room. Tomorrow, Mr. Darcy would know what it was like to be ‘slighted’ by someone of the opposite sex.
Darcy was stunned.Had he heard correctly? A female challenging a gentleman to a duel was unheard of in his society. He was top of the swordsmanship team at university. During the past six years, he continued to hone his craft at Angelos while in London. Among his peers, he was considered a marksman with pistols.
He glanced around to make sure no one else had heard her challenge. Fortunately, Bingley was already on the dance floor, and his sisters had moved away.
Why would a stranger, a female no less, in a god-forsaken place like Hertfordshire, break social conventions to call him out? As a complex cascade of emotions throbbed through his veins, his first thought was for the lady’s safety, not only physically, but also the scandal that might ruin her and her family.
A flicker of guilt rose in his chest, threatening to choke him. The fault was his, as the weight of his insulting comment crashed down on him. Her threat was concrete proof that his hastily uttered comment wounded her deeply.
He had not meant to injure her. He merely wanted Bingley to leave him in peace.
Blast!
He searched the room for her.Towering over the majority, Darcy failed to see the young woman in the blue gown, the color of cornflowers.
Calling for his cloak, he signaled to his host, Charles Bingley. Once his friend broke away from the blonde ‘angel’ he was admiring, Darcy explained that he must return to Netherfield Park to pen a letter to his cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam.
“You have barely been here an hour, Darcy. Can you not wait until the morning to send your missive? I have just secured the final dance with Miss Bennet.”
“Do not trouble yourself. I shall send my carriage back for you and your family.” Darcy again surveyed the room for her. When he still caught not a glimpse of her, he added, “Might I invite Richard to Netherfield?”
Bingley, ever amiable, grinned. “Of course, my friend. Your cousin is always welcome.”
Nodding, Darcy left the assembly behind.
