He touched his hat in greeting, and Elizabeth saw his eyes glance behind her, as if searching for another Miss Bennet. “I hope I find you well, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth was glad she had not asked Jane to accompany her. The mortification of this encounter was dreadful enough without having to consider her sister’s fragile feelings. “Since you are no longer to wed my sister, I must insist you refrain from addressing me informally.”
He looked embarrassed. “Please forgive me. I would not wish to offend you. My meeting you here must be something of a surprise.”
Elizabeth struggled to find something to speak of. She was unprepared for such an encounter, for there was not one article of news to reach her of Mr Bingley’s being in the neighbourhood. Although, given the Bennets’ relative isolation of late, this was nothing to be surprised at. She felt anew all her anger at his fickle nature and her sister’s broken heart.
“I did not know you were coming down again. I am shocked you would presume to take residence in our neighbourhood.”
“I was recently in Bath and have only just arrived. My agent has been in contact with a gentleman who seeks to purchase the lease to Netherfield, and I have returned to meet them. So you see, I shall not long be in the neighbourhood and have no plans to return.”
“I believe that would be for the best.”
After another silence, Mr Bingley said, “I saw Darcy in Bath two days ago.”
“I am pleased that he is well. I have not had a letter from him for several days, and so I do not know what trouble he has got in to.”
Her comment was to be taken as an amusing idea, for Fitzwilliam was not the sort of man to find himself in misfortune. But Mr Bingley refused to meet her eye, grew visibly paler, and gave every impression of wishing to be elsewhere. Elizabeth was immediately suspicious.
“Do you know something of Darcy’s movements this past week? Did he encounter Mr Wickham?”
“Miss Elizabeth, I must take my leave. You will forgive me if I do not offer my compliments to your family. I fear they would not be well received.”
Elizabeth threw aside all propriety and stepped in front of Mr Bingley’s horse, no longer caring a whit what the gawking folks of Meryton would say about her recklessness. “I insist you tell me what you know! Has Darcy seen Mr Wickham?”
Elizabeth could have sworn she heard him mutter something about her likeness to Darcy.
“Yes,” he replied gravely, “they met once Thursday night and…will have a second meeting if they have not had it already, one that was unavoidable.”
Mr Bingley could not possibly be implying that the only way for Fitzwilliam to preserve their honour and settle the dispute was with pistols. “What? Will Darcy challenge—”
“I am certain Darcy could meet Mr Wickham’s depravity no other way.” With a touch to his hat, Mr Bingley was gone.
Fitzwilliam was going to duel Wickham? She did not know whether to be proud of him for his defence of her family or furious that he would place his life in danger. Shock and confusion won out over any other emotion. She was bewildered, and the thought of sitting in her aunt’s parlour now seemed far too stifling. Elizabeth pensively made her way back to Longbourn.
* * *
At the firstappearance of dawn on Saturday, Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam sat in Darcy’s landau, the only sound in the cool morning air the occasional rattle of the horses’ reins. As Darcy looked out the left side glass, he could just make out the Green Park Buildings and, through the right, the river toward Beechen Cliff. It was an enchanting prospect if one were not on Kingsmead Field for a duel.
Fitzwilliam shifted in his seat and gazed across the open field. “I see a gentleman not far off; I believe that is the surgeon. Wickham has not yet arrived, but we are early. Shall we take the field?” He reached out to open the door.
Darcy had been sitting in silence, staring at his moss agate sleeve buttons. Upon hearing his cousin’s voice, Darcy’s hand shot out and clutched Fitzwilliam’s arm as his hand rested on the handle. His cousin looked up in surprise. For a moment, Darcy did not speak, nor did he remove his hand, his breathing coming in quick shallow intakes of breath.
“Georgiana,” he said in a harried tone, still gripping his cousin’s arm.
His cousin interrupted him with a shake of his head. “Darcy! You cannot think that—”
“Promise me! She is such a lonely child. You must promise me to care for her should—”
“Yes, I shall make sure Georgiana marries the most vain, self-absorbed, cash-strapped, widowed baronet who comes to call her first Season. Pemberley will be bankrupt in two generations, fear not.”
Darcy knew his cousin was trying to distract him, but he stared intently with a gaze known to intimidate lesser men.
Fitzwilliam nodded. “Georgiana will want for nothing. You have my word.”
Darcy released his cousin’s arm. Fitzwilliam removed his hand from the handle and sat back to wait for him to speak. Darcy reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a letter, toying with it in his hands for a moment before passing it to his cousin.
“It is for Elizabeth. Her direction is on the envelope. You must deliver it to her should Wickham—” Darcy paused and glanced at the field. “Should Wickham kill me,” he finished in a faltering voice.
