His pleasant expression fell. “Yes, I suppose that is her new title.” All discourse was now at an end, and after several moments of uncomfortable silence, Darcy took his leave and returned to his cousin, who was admiring the matched set of duelling pistols and asked his impression of the surgeon.
“I am hesitant about forming an opinion. He spoke well and appears to be a genteel, if docile, sort of man. At the first he was affable, but then he grew silent. I could not catch the tone of his conversation.”
“You are not the most talented at understanding people. I am surprised you took the trouble to make yourself known to him at all.”
The rumbling of an approaching carriage caught their attention. It was undeniably new, pulled by a team of six horses, and glistened in the early morning sun.
“What an ostentatious show of wealth.” Darcy shook his head as the large carriage came to a stop. “Most residents of Bath do not even need to keep carriages.”
The surgeon stood nearby and did not remove his gaze from the man who stepped out of the ridiculous carriage. George Wickham gave every appearance of enjoying himself as he took the field, bowing with a flourish toward Darcy and Fitzwilliam. He was followed by another man carrying a pistol case under his arm, who then engaged Wickham in hurried conversation.
“Darcy, remember, there is no need for you to speak with Wickham,” said his cousin. “That is why I am here—to represent you. I will make one final attempt to resolve this peaceably with his second.”
Fitzwilliam was speaking with Wickham’s second, Mr Kenneth, when Wickham turned his attention down the field.
“Come now, Darcy, let us speak plainly!” Wickham called to where Darcy stood next to his horses. “Will you apologise for calling me a liar and a rake?” he asked with a smirk.
“Your second may speak with Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
“I find your attention to propriety a dead bore!”
“It is you, Mr Wickham, who must recant. You attacked my integrity and the reputations of the ladies of my family.” Fitzwilliam caught his eye and shook his head, but Darcy paid him no mind as he stared Wickham down.
Wickham swiftly crossed the distance between them. “I have no intention of apologising. I will proudly tell anyone who cares to listen that the future Mrs Darcy is a whore like her youngest sister. Your sister by marriage will always be a whore, and I can look forward to the day when polite society will question whether your wife’s children have Darcy blood.” In a quieter voice, Wickham continued so only Darcy could hear. “Exposing you and those you care for to gossip and contempt is second only to the joy of looking at you over the barrel of a gun. I have little other means of revenge at my disposal, and I do so wish to see you suffer as you have left me to suffer all these years.”
“Your trials are due to your own extravagant ways and dissolute habits. I shall not stand by and allow you to ruin the reputation of ladies under my protection.”
Wickham merely shrugged. “You ought to know: Lydia’s lovely person could not but please me. I endeavoured, by every means in my power, to make myself pleasing to her without any design of returning her affection.”
Darcy refused to allow him the pleasure of seeing him angry. Wickham winked then continued to insult him. “Now that I further reflect, the same could be said about our fetching Georgiana,” he said with mock consideration. “I do hope that, when I left her in Ramsgate, she felt as though she would never be happy again.”
From deep inside Darcy’s soul, he found the fortitude not to strike Wickham for speaking of his sister. “For the sake of your own selfish interests and convenience, you would perpetuate any cruelty or any treachery. You have no feelings for others. If you refuse to apologise and seek reconciliation, I have no recourse but to see you meet my challenge.”
“With pleasure.” Wickham bowed and made his way across the field. After several paces, he shouted over his shoulder, “Your future bride and I were at a time such good friends. ’Tis a shame shedid not go to Brighton instead of her sister. I would have enjoyed taking a flyer on her. Lizzy would have enjoyed it too.”
Fitzwilliam crossed the field back toward Darcy and gave Wickham a stare of unrestrained loathing as he passed him. Darcy’s feelings changed gradually from indignant contempt to a composed and steady gravity.
Fitzwilliam told him how the barrels of Wickham’s weapons were smoothbore, not rifled, and they had been loaded with only a single charge. The firing distance was twenty-four paces, and after asking whether all was ready, the signal to fire would be the drop of a handkerchief. It took all of Darcy’s self-control not to pace with volatile energy while he glowered at Wickham.
“Once begun, you will both fire one time. If Wickham does not offer an apology that you wish to accept, you both will fire once again unless, of course, one of you takes a severe hit after the first round. Your second pistols will be at the ready, but I do hope you will not need it. Darcy? Darcy!”
He dragged his eyes from Wickham and looked at his cousin. “I heard you.”
“I never imagined saying these words to you, butdo notallow your emotions to master you. You are a gentleman preserving yourself in an affair of honour. If there was ever a time for your propensity for steady purpose, resolution, and impassivity, it is now.”
Darcy nodded once in agreement. Fitzwilliam went on as he marked out the firing distance. “You and Wickham are merely tolerable shots, so the distance is short. I will hand your pistol to you already cocked and ready to fire. You will salute one another after you approach your mark. I know you do not wish to be told what to do, but your life may depend upon it. I want you to turn sideways as you extend your arm and offer the smallest target area possible. Wickham will not admit his fault by deloping, nor is he going to aim to inflict a non-fatal wound. He will fire intending to kill. Stay on your mark until both pistols have been fired, and whatever you do, do not lower your arm until both shots are fired.” He handed him his pistol.
“Is there anything else you wish me to do or not do? I have never been given so many orders in all my life.” Darcy watched Wickham take his weapon. His own pistol felt heavy in his hand, and he had to forcefully close his fingers around the handle so as not to drop it.
“Only one: Do not get killed.” With that, Fitzwilliam walked thirty yards back to stand with Wickham’s second and the surgeon. A neutral third party, agreed upon by their seconds to preside over the matter, stood between them and held the large white handkerchief. Darcy watched Fitzwilliam speak to the doctor, who turned his back to the proceedings.
Darcy stood at his place, his implacable resentment for Wickham pushed aside only far enough to allow him to think on his cousin’s instructions. With cold civility, he inclined his head to Wickham, who only smirked. His heart rate felt too rapid, and he could hear his blood pounding in his ears. His eyes widened despite the early morning sun rising in the east. He felt cold, resolved, tense, but he only felt a brief flash of dread when they both raised their arms.
The handkerchief dropped, and the sound of two pistols firing at once blasted through the quiet tranquillity of the morning.
ChapterTwenty-Seven
Darcy’s fingers still shook when Colonel Fitzwilliam took the pistol from his hand. The world had shifted out of focus after he pulled the trigger, and it was not until his cousin clapped him on the back and congratulated him that Darcy could take stock of his surroundings. Wickham’s second was leaning over that gentleman in uncertainty. The surgeon stood motionless with his medical bag in hand away from the others, although he had turned back around to face the assembled men.
