“I am not very skilled with a blade,” Bertram said dubiously.
“Your books are more enticing, no doubt. But this is only for fun. If you will be willing to make up the numbers, I shall allow you to be honourably defeated in the first round and retire to the library.”
Bertram laughed. “Very well, sir, but I shall hold you to that. I will engage for no more than a brief appearance on the field of battle.”
Breakfast was spent recruiting more competitors for the tournament. Then, when the gentlemen went off to their meeting, Bea and her father arranged the great hall in preparation, setting up the board with all the names, instructing the footmen to push all the furniture away to the sides of the room, and examining the available fencing swords for suitability.
Her father almost purred with satisfaction as they worked.
“You are looking forward to this,” Bea said, amused. “Have you been horribly bored these past weeks?”
He paused from chalking names onto the blackboard. “I would not put it like that. I have felt a littlespare, to be honest. My Latin is too poor for the scholars’ meetings, and a man cannot be out riding all day every day. You and your stepmother are busy, so I am alone for most of the morning.”
“You could have stayed at home.”
“By myself? No one to talk to? That does not appeal! One cannot always be at home, and there is a deal of pleasure to be had in seeing my two ladies enjoying themselves. Still, I confess I shall be glad to return to my own house… my own bed. I miss the boys, too. Charles is at such an interesting age, and Henry is becoming quite a little man, learning to ride and to shoot.”
“Is it my imagination, or might there be another one arriving before too long? Mama is looking very peaky in the mornings.”
He laughed. “So it would seem, but for myself, I should like a daughter this time — a little girl just like you.”
“Heaven forbid!” Bea said, eyebrows raised. “Another trouble-maker?”
“You have never been the least trouble, Bea,” he said with a smile. “Your manners appal me sometimes, such as when you jilted Walter Atherton without a single kind word, but even if you are occasionally thoughtless, you are never malicious. You have a good heart, you just have to learn to consider the feelings of others a little more.”
That stung! But she could not deny the truth of it, and poor Mr Fieldings’ woebegone face rose up in her mind to chastise her even more. “I was very rude to Walter,” she said miserably. “Do you think he was very upset? I never thought he cared much whether he married me or not.”
“Nor did I,” her father said. “He is lazy, like his father, and he took you because it spared him the bother of exerting himself. It will be good for him to have to earn his living. Sir Hubert tells me that he has done well in London, so there is hope for him yet.”
“You have heard from Sir Hubert, have you? Did he mention Winnie? Is it official yet?”
“No, it is all off, seemingly. Her mysterious suitor has vanished just as suddenly as he appeared.”
“Poor Winnie!” Bea said. “To be jilted at twenty-four — how humiliating!”
“There are worse fates in life,” he said lightly.
“Such as what?”
“Better to be jilted than to become entangled with the wrong man,” he said in surprisingly serious tones. He stepped back to scrutinise the blackboard. “There! I have arranged it so that thestrongest fencers will not meet too soon, and I still have one spot left, in case Mr Fielding should change his mind.”
Bea enjoyed the tournament enormously. There was a great deal of pleasure to be had in seeing men who were usually so formally attired, with starched cravats and fitted coats to give them dignity, stripped to their shirts and engaged in physical combat. Nor was it a game to them. It was thrilling to see the intensity with which they approached each match. Every point was a duel to the death, in their minds.
Mr Fielding, who was not participating, sat beside her, not saying much except the occasional comment on the current match, but his quiet company was pleasant. She was glad that he was no longer avoiding her company, although once or twice she caught a certain look in his eye as he looked at her, a wistfulness, perhaps, that made her feel guilty all over again.
Once he had been defeated, Bertram attired himself properly again and he too came to sit with her as she watched, and gradually his friends, too, as they were removed from the competition. There were few other ladies there. The duchess and her sisters watched for a while, and Miss Grayling hovered around the marquess as much as she could, but Bea’s stepmother had shuddered at the very suggestion that she might attend.
“I cannot prevent you from being there, since your father has always indulged your interest in the sport, and perhaps it is no bad thing to see how gentlemen display their prowess with a blade, but I cannot bear to watch myself. Such primitive violence!”
Bea did not think it primitive at all. She had seen a bare-knuckle fight once at a fair, and that was a display of primitive violence, beyond question. So much blood! And one of the fighters had been knocked out cold on the ground and carried off by his friends, which quite spoilt her enjoyment of the day untilshe saw him walking around later with a tankard of ale in his hand, and laughing as if nothing had happened. But fencing — there was an art to that, and she loved to watch it.
Once again, the quiet marquess, so self-effacing in company, demonstrated remarkable ability. His light-footed grace in the dance was also an advantage when fencing, and he defeated his first opponent without effort. Lord Grayling had a different kind of talent, more powerful and inclined to overwhelm a more timid opponent. He made short work of Lord Brockscombe in the first round. Bertram had not overstated his ability, accepting his defeat at Lord Thomas’s hands with grace.
One by one, the less adept fell by the wayside. The longest bout was between Lord Embleton and Lord Grayling, but in the end the baron’s superior strength had the advantage. Which left a final round between Lord Grayling and Bea’s father.
“You have had an easy run so far, Franklyn,” Lord Grayling said, as they rested before the start of their match.
“One of the benefits of arranging the tournament is to choose my own place in the lists,” her father said. “I imagine I am about to be tested to my limits now, however.”
