Chapter Sixteen
Darcy felt as though he could barely stay on his feet as he walked across to the drawing room with Elizabeth.
The taste of her lips lingered on his.
He was filled with dread about his meeting with Wickham.
There were two impulses in him. The seemingly dominant one said that he must face Wickham. He was a gentleman of honour, and it was his duty. The other voice told him that he was a father and a brother and soon to be a husband, and that it was his duty to not risk his life.
The room was emptier than he had expected. Mrs. Bennet was absent, as were the two youngest Bennet daughters.
Georgiana was sitting at the pianoforte playing a doleful tune, and Elizabeth looked towards her friend with a frown.
Colonel Fitzwilliam was standing in the middle of the room wearing an unreadable expression.
Bingley was speaking to him. “But really, really. Upon my honour, do they really mean to fight?”
“Are arrangements made?” Darcy asked.
“Pistols, and you will fire together. At dawn. We must ride some distance as the meeting will be at a field in the next shire. Mr. Denny says it is the location generally preferred for such occasions.”
Darcy nodded.
He then made the introductions between Colonel Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth.
After a few words with his cousin, Elizabeth went to speak to Georgiana. There was something captivating about watching the line of her dress glide about her legs, and how her trim figure moved.
It was right to be fascinated by her.
Elizabeth leaned against the instrument, creating a lovely picture as she spoke softly to his sister.
Upon being addressed by Elizabeth, Georgiana banged the keys in a manner Darcy had never heard from her, and she stopped playing.
After a minute, while Elizabeth continued to speak, his sister began to play again, this time at a furious pace, while talking quickly to Elizabeth in a tone that was impossible for anyone else to hear over the notes.
Emily leapt up from where she had been sitting with a book open between her and Mr. Bennet.
“Papa! Papa! Now play. Now play with me.”
Darcy smiled at her instinctively.
And then he felt an aching sickness in the belly. He had threatened to spank her when she refused to leave the room because she was scared. And he meant to fight in a duel the next day. “Of course, my sweet. And what shall we play? Is it time for the tea party?”
“No! I am busy. We shall play draughts. With Mr. Bennet. He says that I give the best advice.”
“If you would like us to play a game of draughts, I am at your service, madam.” Darcy bowed a little before sweeping the girl into his arms. She giggled.
“No, no,” Emily insisted. “You play with Mr. Bennet. I’ll tell you what to move.”
Darcy grimaced.
Mr. Bennet laughed. “You consider this a hard task. I have been receiving…her excellent advice for the past few days.”
“I make the best moves!” Emily cheered.
“Then we shall play,” Darcy said to his child, “if Mr. Bennet is willing to risk defeat.”
“Most willing.”
“He is so funny when he loses a game,” Emily said.
“I shall try to be equally amusing should we lose,” Darcy replied.
Mr. Bennet chuckled again. He looked much recovered from the weakness that he had suffered. His colour was back and he was in good spirits.
“We still plan to marry this evening,” Darcy said as he sat down and quickly arranged the pieces in their rows. “You should look over the settlement documents and sign them.”
“I can scarcely read at present,” Mr. Bennet said. “I have sent for my brother-in-law Mr. Phillips to look them over for me.”
He meant to fight Wickham.
He meant to shoot Wickham.
He meant to kill Wickham.
Wrong. Wrong.
Murder. Shame. Disgrace.
Man of honour.
Fight to protect your honour.
“Move that piece.” Emily pointed at the desired one.
Darcy said, “I believe it is Mr. Bennet’s turn first.”
“No! That piece.”
Mr. Bennet laughed. “The sanctity of the game will not be deeply violated if black moves first.”
Darcy moved the piece.
They played the game, and despite Darcy’s best efforts to suggest sensible moves, it ended in an extremely easy victory for Mr. Bennet.
At seeing the girl’s expectant look, Darcy then clutched at his throat and said, “No, no, no! Alas! I have lost. Oh, my heart, oh my heart. I am pierced through with grief!”
Emily giggled. “Again! Play again.”
Darcy reset the pieces.
Wickham did not deserve death. It had been a sin but not a mortal one.
Colonel Fitzwilliam’s sudden loud laughter made Darcy look over at him.
His cousin exclaimed, “No, but did he really?”
Georgiana, Elizabeth, and the colonel all looked at Darcy.
Georgiana said, “He did. I heard him. It was quite shocking.”
His sister laughed, but there was something brittle in the sound.
“Did I do what?” Darcy enquired.
“Oh, I am not shocked, knowing him as I do now,” Elizabeth said cheerfully, and she smiled warmly at him. Perhaps she was not thinking about it.
“Might I know what you all speak of?”
“Pay attention to me,” Emily demanded. “Move that piece.”
Darcy moved the piece without any attempt to suggest a less disastrous move. Mr. Bennet instantly jumped his own piece.
That gentleman was clearly delighted to win under such circumstances.
“Did you really,” Colonel Fitzwilliam asked, “refuse to dance with this lovely woman because she was too pretty? That is much like you. And a great compliment to Miss Elizabeth’s vanity. I see why she forgave you for your refusal.”
“He could not have made a more pointed statement of interest,” Elizabeth agreed.
Bingley stood from where he had been talking to Miss Bennet. “I told him he should dance with you. I had no notion that he would ever marry again. But I told him to.”
Darcy’s eyes caught Elizabeth’s. She smiled at him. His stomach leapt. He felt the memory of her lips on his and wished to kiss her again.
He was happy in this moment.
And then he remembered that he planned to kill a man the next morning whom he had known as a boy. And he would be scorned by all who knew him if he did not let Wickham shoot at him, now that he had forced him to fight.
Georgiana stared at Darcy with oddly lost eyes. She barely attended to the conversation.
What did she believe after all she had heard Wickham say?
“It must have been the basis for the whole of your relationship,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said to Elizabeth. “I imagine you thought a great deal about the wealthy gentleman who—” He laughed again. “—who thought you were too pretty to dance with. No, but what is the exact story? What did he really say?”
“I see that you are determined to make sport of me,” Darcy said cheerfully from his seat.
There was humour, but underneath everything he felt leaden.
The weight became heavier and heavier in his belly.
“Yes, yes, Emily. There, now I have moved the piece, and Mr. Bennet will have his victory in four moves, I think.”
“Hurrah!” Emily replied. “We’re going to lose! Have we lost yet?”
“I thought you wanted to win.”
“No, I want to lose! It’s no fun when I win.”
“That,” Mr. Bennet said laughing, “explains a great deal about your advice.”
“But Miss Elizabeth,” Colonel Fitzwilliam insisted, “I must hear the exact story.”
Elizabeth studied Darcy’s expression.
He shrugged.
“You can hardly expect me,” Elizabeth said, “to pursue a line of conversation which my husband wishes to avoid—I hope you do not mind that I anticipate the fulfilment of our vows by a few hours.”
“You will follow every command of your lord and master?” Colonel Fitzwilliam asked. “If only I could find such a woman.”
Elizabeth smiled at his manner, but Darcy had a distinct sensation that she was ill at ease.
“Sir,” she said to Colonel Fitzwilliam, “I am as you see me.”
“Your loveliness makes it clear why my cousin pointedly refused to dance with you—but how did the whole proceed after such a promising beginning?” Colonel Fitzwilliam smiled at Darcy.
“He says nothing about how the connection was established except to insist that we understand every particular, which proves that he was motivated by no worldly consideration in accepting your offer of marriage.”
“My offer of marriage?” Elizabeth replied with raised eyebrows. “You are mistaken.”
“I mean to say,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, “that a woman has ways of encouraging a man, of making it clear to him that his interest will be welcome. Darcy, I am sure that you knew Miss Elizabeth was eager for your suit. That is simply what I mean.”
“I believe Mr. Darcy assumes that all eligible women are at all times eager for him to make his most eligible offer of marriage to them,” Elizabeth replied somewhat tightly.
Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed. “You understand Darcy’s character.”
Darcy looked up from the board, which was now one move from Mr. Bennet’s inevitable and complete triumph. “I am not so vain.”
“You are,” the colonel replied with a friendly grin.
“If I did draw him in,” Elizabeth said, “it was not by design. I was utterly astonished when Mr. Darcy made the offer of marriage to me.”
“All of you, stop it!” Georgiana stamped her foot and nearly shrieked.
“How can we banter? How can we talk? How can we forget that murder is in the air? We cannot. Fitzwilliam, you cannot mean to fight George. Lizzy, do you not at least see that we cannot talk? We should not be happy, not when—how can anyone ever feel the right to be happy? I do not wish to ever be happy again.”
She burst into anguished sobs.
Emily rose and went to her aunt, hugging her tightly. “There, there,” the little girl said, echoing how Darcy had talked to her when she cried after Mary died. “Sometimes sad things happen, but there will also be happy events.”
Nausea worked its way through Darcy’s body. He felt sick. A dead body could not be shaken from his mind’s eye. His stomach hurt.
His own voice from earlier echoed in his ears: “By Jove, I mean to put a bullet through your heart.”
It was suddenly too much.