Day 18
She could not sleep. The fears which had gripped her hours before had only intensified as the wind howled through the orchard, and the trees scratched at the window.
He cannot be dueling that scoundrel in only a few hours. Will he be lost to me forever? Elizabeth lay abed, restless, anticipating her future while listening to the house settling around her, and wondering if he too could not sleep.
Elizabeth sighed and gave up her attempt at rest. Grabbing her dressing gown and threading her arms through the sleeves, she reached for the candle next to her bed.
That Mr. Bingley will be Mr. Darcy’s second is no surprise.
But that my sister should repine her decision to secure the fate of her mother and sisters is.
.. “Also, no surprise,” she whispered, pausing before unlatching the door.
Yes, it was Jane’s choice, but it was not truly of her own free will.
She crept down the stairs, her candle causing shadows to dance across the walls as she walked through the corridor toward the kitchen. A sound from Mr. Collins’ study caught her attention, and she pushed the door open.
The man she loved sat at the desk.
“Elizabeth.” He stood and reached out his hand to her.
She rushed toward him, and he wrapped her in his embrace.
“Elizabeth?”
“William…I…what if I lose you? What if…?”
“My love, I––”
“I do not blame you. I know you had no other choice. Georgiana is your sister. You must protect her and her honor. But,” she said, “what if I do not have an opportunity to…be Mrs. Darcy?”
“You will––”
“You could die.” Her sobs could no longer be repressed, allowing all her fears to come to the forefront.
He walked her to the chaise and sat down next to her, her head resting against his chest.
She cried in his arms until her tears were spent. “What are we to do, William?”
A final sob, like a child crying herself to sleep, broke forth.
“Elizabeth,” he said, gently kissing her brow until she looked up at him. “I have fought too hard to lose you now.”
“What if Wickham kills you?”
“Do you believe him a better marksman?”
Shrugging her shoulders, she answered. “I do not trust him. He is dishonorable and will do whatever he must to be victorious. I must be there.”
Darcy frowned and held up his hand. “No. I will not put you at risk.”
“I will worry until you return.”
“I will worry if you are there. Promise me… I would be in more danger with your presence. My sole motivation would be to protect you.”
“William…please.”
His fingers slowly traced her cheek before resting on her lips. “I love you, Elizabeth Bennet, and will not lose you! I have chosen this life and will finally receive all the happiness I am due! I will return home to you.”
His strange words puzzled her before he tenderly kissed her lips.
“You will be Mrs. Darcy if it is the last thing I do.”
Elizabeth had returned to her chambers, and Darcy reclined on Collins’s chaise, having decided to rest there instead of returning to his room, only two doors down from hers. I am an honorable man, but where Elizabeth is concerned, I often lose all sense of reason.
He took a steadying drink of his brandy, then folded his hands behind his head.
In merely a few hours I will have all of my heart’s desires.
My sister will be safe, Pemberley will be mine, and I will be free to marry Elizabeth.
She has chosen me, and I her. He swirled his drink, watching the amber liquid glint in the candlelight. “But I must calm her fears.”
He stood and walked to the desk, picking up a piece of linen paper. Placing a quill in ink, he leaned over and began:
Miss Elizabeth Bennet,
Be not alarmed, my love, that this letter contains any sentiments that last night were so worrisome to you…
The sun had not yet risen, but its fingers streaked across the horizon, illuminating his surroundings.
A mist was settled upon the ground and encircled the ruins of the original house, stretching across the fields and into the woods.
Darcy buttoned his greatcoat, while Bingley rubbed his arms for warmth.
“I am grateful to you, Charles. You did not have to be my second.”
“I did not,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I believe you would have done the same for me. I cannot explain why, but I know you would.”
“I would, my friend.”
The men paced, attempting to keep warm, while a doctor from the village checked his watch.
“Mr. Wickham should have been here by now,” the older man said. “I can’t imagine what is keeping him.”
“You cannot?” Darcy asked. “The only thing larger than Wickham’s gambling debts is his cowardice.”
The sound of the men pacing for the next quarter of an hour was only matched by the woodland animals waking.
“If he does not arrive in the next few minutes—”
“I will have to seek my recompense in some other way.”
Alas, the sound of a carriage could be heard on the road. Darcy looked up and grimaced. When the equipage stopped not far from him, and Wickham alighted, Bingley stepped forward.
“You’re late. As Mr. Fitz––Darcy’s second, it is my duty to ask if you wish to apologize for the slight given to which the challenge has been extended.”
Wickham snorted. “I do not.”
“Then it befits me to remind you what is at stake. Pistols were chosen. With the assistance of your second, Mr. Gafton, I will load the pistols so the duel can commence.”
“Agreed,” Wickham said. He nodded at Gafton to join Bingley.
“Are you certain you want to go through with this, Fitzroy?”
Darcy ignored Wickham.
“The rules of the duel are as follows,” Bingley said. “You will each get one shot. Whoever draws first blood is the victor. If neither draws blood, or if both do, it is a draw, and your honor has been avenged. Is that clear?”
“Yes,” Darcy said.
Wickham shrugged. “Of course.”
Bingley looked at both men. “Let us begin.”
Elizabeth did not know what woke her. She had finally fallen into a restless sleep but had planned to meet Darcy before he left again to wish him well.
How silly he must think I am. But I do not trust Wickham. He is bent on destroying all that is good and makes no apologies for his behavior. His privilege disgusts me.
She made it down the stairs in time to see Wickham’s carriage roll past on the way to the duel.
She said a silent prayer and, as she walked past the entryway, she noticed a letter addressed to her in William’s hand.
Picking it up, she was shocked when the door flung open, and Anne de Bourgh breathlessly rushed into the room for the second time since the night before.
“Miss Bennet. We must go to Old Rosings. Wickham is going to kill Darcy.”
Elizabeth clutched the unread letter to her chest. “What do you mean? William has just as good a chance as Wickham, and they are only to take one shot. He swore he would come away unharmed.”
Grabbing a wrap, Miss de Bourgh said, “My abigail overheard that Wickham is paying a stable hand at Lord Gafton’s estate to hide in the woods and shoot Darcy.”
“What?”
“Yes! With Darcy gone, Georgiana is once again the only heir, and it will all belong to Wickham. His avarice will stop at nothing!”
Her knees almost buckled as she leaned against the chair. “We must go at once.” Shoving his letter in her pocket and wrapping her shawl around her, Elizabeth rushed outside. “We do not have time to saddle the horses.”
“We must go through the woods. I know a shortcut”—and the women ran out of the door.
The pistols had been inspected by both Bingley and Lord Gafton before the men agreed they were ready.
“Now, Wickham,” Bingley said. “This is your final opportunity to apologize and admit your wrongdoing.”
“I did nothing wrong. The truth is often unpleasant.” He sneered at Darcy, who clenched his jaw, attempting to not allow Wickham to unnerve him.
“When this is over, I will not have too difficult a time convincing Miss Bennet to become my mistress. My wife cannot keep up with my needs.” Wickham turned to Bingley.
“Nor could yours or your sister, for that matter. But at least she left for America. One less crying debutante to concern myself with.”
“Easy, Bingley,” Darcy said, placing his hand on his friend’s arm. “I will avenge us both.”
“And if you do not, I will,” Bingley said through gritted teeth.
“Let us get started. I have a warm bed waiting,” Wickham said, removing his coat and handing it to a servant.
Bingley inhaled deeply. “Very well. I will count off ten paces, then you will turn and fire.”
Both Darcy and Wickham took their positions. Bingley nodded at Darcy, who nodded once.
Thank you, Charles, for being the same friend in this life that you were in my other.
“One…two…three…”
The men began to walk toward their destinies, one more arrogant, but both equally confident.
“Four…five…six…seven…”
Darcy felt the metal of the pistol in his hand and pulled the hammer back.
“Stop! Stop!”
Birds in the distance scattered as the men turned to see Elizabeth and Anne de Bourgh running toward them.
A loud crack echoed through the meadow. The last thing Darcy heard was Elizabeth’s scream as he fell to the ground.