A Duel in Meryton Read online

  A Duel in Meryton

  A Pride and Prejudice Variation

  Renata McMann and Summer Hanford

  Dedication - From Renata and Summer

  In loving memory of our favorite editor. Your dedication to and enthusiasm for our work will be sorely missed.

  Dedication - From Summer

  To a wonderful woman, who was both mother-in-law and friend. It breaks my heart to write a book you aren't here to read. The world is less without you.

  Cover by Summer Hanford

  Copyright 2019 by Renata McMann & Summer Hanford

  All rights reserved

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Epilogue

  By Renata McMann and Summer Hanford

  Pride and Prejudice Variations by Renata McMann

  Regency Romance by Summer Hanford

  Renata McMann

  About the Authors

  Chapter One

  Every year, just before Easter, Darcy rounded up his favorite cousin, Major Richard Fitzwilliam, and they went to Rosings to visit their widowed aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and their cousin, Anne de Bourgh. Their visits had become routine and, as such, moderately boring. That would never excuse them, however. Darcy did not consider boredom a valid reason not to dispense his duties, and familial visits were a solemn duty, especially since their uncle, Sir Lewis de Bourgh’s, death.

  That his cousin felt the same was one of the reasons Darcy got on better with Richard than with either of Richard’s brothers, even his twin. Though born some twenty minutes sooner, and therefore older than Richard, Walter Fitzwilliam matured later. Both Walter and the twins’ older brother, Arthur, used Lady Catherine’s tendency to attempt to manage their lives as a poor excuse not to visit. That excuse would seem more valid if both hadn’t gone through times when they were badly in need of such advice. Instead of avoiding Lady Catherine, Richard and Darcy ignored their aunt’s well-meaning attempts to run their lives, recognizing she meant well.

  “Lady Catherine will expect you to admire Anne’s new gown and compliment her Easter bonnet,” Richard observed as Darcy’s carriage turned up Rosings’ tree-lined drive. Richard’s voice was perfectly bland, though pitched slightly loud from growing up with boisterous older brothers and his years in the military. His eyes, in contrast, held amusement. Mostly at Darcy’s expense.

  “Have a care,” Darcy warned with mock severity. “Someday I will marry. Aunt Catherine will be forced to put aside her hopes for me and Anne. She will turn her sights on you for our cousin, and you shall be required to notice new bonnets and Easter gowns.”

  Richard snorted. “You wed, indeed.” He shook his head as the carriage rumbled toward Rosings’ impressive façade. “For one, you’ve never shown any such inclination. For another, if you keep gadding about with that new acquaintance of yours, you shall never manage to marry. That one makes calf-eyes at the loveliest woman at each assembly, dances with her, and steals her heart. Now that he’s attached himself to you, none of them shall ever notice you, and you aren’t the sort to settle for the second most attractive woman in the room.”

  Darcy frowned. “You mean Charles Bingley? The merchant’s son?”

  “Aye, that’s the fellow.”

  “He hasn’t attached himself to me. He’s simply seeking moral and social compass.”

  “And you are enjoying providing both,” Richard observed. “Don’t bother to deny it. It pleases you to sculpt him.”

  Darcy shrugged. “Someone must. He’s a decent enough young man, but it takes only a moment or two in his company to realize he could easily be led astray, and he must be doubly careful. Some would quickly use his family’s roots in trade to condemn behavior that would be forgiven in someone whose standing is higher.”

  Richard’s gaze narrowed as he studied Darcy. His expression grew more serious. “Darcy, this proclivity of yours to think you know better than others is going to get you into trouble someday.”

  Darcy shrugged and tugged the curtain wider open. He didn’t think he knew better than others. He was certain he did. There was no use trying to convince his older cousin of that, though, for Richard possessed the same trait.

  “While we’re on the subject of your failings,” Richard said. “I will add that, since inheriting Pemberley, you’ve developed a tendency to judge too quickly, and harshly. Walter and Arthur have noted this as well. They nominated me to tell you.”

  They rounded the curve at the end of the drive. Relief filled Darcy that the journey would soon be over. Normally pleased to travel with his favorite cousin, Darcy didn’t like the path of their conversation, though he appreciated that Richard, senior to Darcy by a few years, felt the right to offer his opinions.

  “I know you won’t heed me, Darcy,” Richard said, as they slowed before Rosings. “But at least I’ve had my say. This way, when your pride brings you trouble someday, I shall win the delight of being able to say I told you as much.”

  The carriage drew to a halt, saving Darcy from giving an answer, but not keeping his mind from Richard’s comment. As they alighted, then mounted the wide front steps, worry weighed on Darcy’s broad shoulders. Richard didn’t understand. Darcy now had the care of an estate. He had tenants, servants, and property to manage. More importantly, he had the rearing of his young sister, Georgiana. Yes, Richard was her guardian as well, but he had his military duties. Daily, Darcy must make decisions that affected those who looked to him, and those decisions must be stood by.

  If he couldn’t take a fellow as affable and eager as Charles Bingley and save him from social and financial pitfalls, guide him into being a gentleman rather than some sort of vulgar nouveau riche, Darcy was unworthy of filling his father’s shoes.

  Lady Catherine’s butler, Dutton, met them at the door. They traversed the corridors of Rosings in blessed silence, and were shown into the usual parlor, a ghastly red and gold affair, only to find the room fuller than normal. Their aunt was there, of course, and their cousin Anne and her companion, Mrs. Jenkinson, but the chair on Anne’s other side was occupied as well. In it sat a jauntily dressed young man, who stood to greet them.

  “Darcy. Richard.” Lady Catherine held out her hands for them to clasp. “Perfectly punctual, as expected.”

  “Aunt Catherine,” Richard greeted. He placed a kiss on her weathered cheek.

  Darcy mimicked the greeting, trying not to stare at the stranger. The young man’s visage was comely, his embroidered green coat modish but much too ostentatious for Darcy’s tastes. He wore dark hair in a style that was currently fashionable. What piqued a feeling of mistrust, however, was his placement at Anne’s side. Much as Darcy loved his cousin, Anne was no beauty, nor an entertaining conversationalist. She was, however, Rosings’ sole heir.

  Lady Catherine gestured to the unknown gentleman. “Meet your cousin, Mr. Blackmore.”

  Blackmore bowed, his expression one shade shy of embarrassed. “My mother was merely a second cousin of Sir Lewis de Bourgh,” he said.
“I am hardly due acknowledgement as a relation.”

  “Nonsense,” Lady Catherine said. “Cousin I say, so cousin you are.”

  “What brings you to Rosings, Mr. Blackmore?” Richard asked, returning the young man’s bow.

  “Nostalgia, permitted by your gracious aunt. I visited here once as a child. Your late uncle and this wonderful place made quite the impression, I must admit. I’ve reminisced over the details nearly daily, longing to return.” He made a sweeping gesture and offered Lady Catherine a smile. “I must say, Rosings and her mistress do not disappoint. If anything, my childhood memories did not do the manor or grounds justice.”

  Predictably, Lady Catherine bestowed a pleased look on this Mr. Blackmore. Darcy felt his aunt woefully accepting of flattery.

  “Yes, Rosings is rather all that, is it not?” Richard said amiably. He turned and bowed to Anne, then Mrs. Jenkinson. “Anne, lovely as ever. Mrs. Jenkinson, it’s a pleasure to see you.”

  “Darcy, greet your new cousin,” Lady Catherine ordered. “And Anne. She’s been in tumult all day, awaiting your arrival. Haven’t you, Anne?”

  Anne offered Darcy a grimace, also predictable.

  “Anne, Mrs. Jenkinson,” Darcy greeted with a bow. He turned to Mr. Blackmore. “Blackmore.”

  “Cousin Blackmore,” Lady Catherine corrected.

  Mr. Blackmore offered another apologetic, overly effacing look. “My family wasn’t close to Sir Lewis before he married Lady Catherine, and we only kept up a sporadic correspondence after he married. As I said, calling us cousins would be too generous.”

  “Be generous, Darcy,” Lady Catherine snapped. “And do sit down, both of you. Darcy, go sit by Anne. Your cousin won’t mind moving. Richard, Mr. Blackmore, come sit by me.”

  They all shuffled about, rearranging themselves to Lady Catherine’s satisfaction. Darcy didn’t miss Mr. Blackmore’s slightly disgruntled look, which he smoothed away before taking his place beside Lady Catherine. Once they were all seated, she looked them over, nodded, and rang for tea.

  “Mr. Blackmore saved one of Sir Lewis’ letters,” Lady Catherine said, aiming the remark at Darcy. “He brought it to me. You cousin has allowed me to keep another memento of my late husband.”

  Lady Catherine paused, but Darcy, unimpressed, made no comment. Sir Lewis had corresponded with many people. There must be hundreds of letters out there.

  “Here, see?” Lady Catherine took out a worn page. She proffered it to Darcy.

  Dutifully, he rose to collect the sheet, which looked to have been crumpled at some point, then an effort made to smooth it. Something had been spilled on the address, obscuring it and much of the name, but the letter was largely legible. It was addressed familiarly to George and gave advice about his spending his time at a university. Darcy had received a similar letter. The date put Mr. Blackmore at university at much the same time as Darcy.

  Darcy handed the letter back to Lady Catherine and leveled a hard look on Blackmore. “I don’t recall seeing you at Cambridge.”

  “I was at Oxford.”

  Did Darcy detect a hint of smugness? He retook his seat, realizing he shouldn’t have declared what university he’d attended. Not when his uncle’s letter hadn’t specifically mentioned Cambridge and his words were too general to pinpoint a specific university.

  “It’s nearly time for dinner,” Anne said, speaking for the first time.

  Everyone turned to look at her. Anne never spoke. Not unless addressed, or at her mother’s command.

  “True enough,” Richard said.

  “Yes, well, off with you all,” Lady Catherine said. “Go change. Richard, you’re in your usual room. Darcy, I had to give Mr. Blackmore the room beside Anne’s. The others we tried all ended up having something wrong with them. We fixed the squeak in the floor of the green bedroom, so you shall take that. The rest, we’re still looking into. Mr. Blackmore has overly keen hearing, you see. It interferes with his rest.”

  Darcy leveled a hard look on the man. “Does it now?”

  Mr. Blackmore grimaced. “It’s a curse, I’m afraid.”

  “Suspect that kept you out of regimentals,” Richard said. When Mr. Blackmore looked briefly puzzled, Richard explained, “Acute hearing could be a problem for someone who needed to be near firearms.”

  “That was a consideration, yes,” Mr. Blackmore agreed. “Though I should have liked to prove myself and serve my country, as you have, sir.”

  Richard nodded amiably and stood. “Come, Darcy, I’ll help you find the green room. I know you’ve no notion which it is.” He nodded to the assemblage. “Aunt, cousins, Mrs. Jenkinson.”

  Darcy stood and offered a bow. As he straightened, he aimed another glare at Blackmore, but the other man had turned to bid the ladies adieu. Darcy kept his glower and followed Richard out.

  When they reached the upper hall, Richard cast Darcy a look askance. “I don’t like this Blackmore fellow.”

  “Nor do I,” Darcy agreed. He offered Richard a nod, then went to the green bedroom, fully aware of its location far down the hall from Anne’s room.

  At dinner that night, Mr. Blackmore, seated on the other side of Anne from Darcy, spent the first course ignoring him and Richard. Instead, Blackmore focused his conversational efforts on Anne. Darcy couldn’t help but note that his cousin proved even more unresponsive than usual. She also leaned away from Mr. Blackmore and thus toward Darcy, whether seeking his presence or simply attempting to put distance between her and Blackmore, Darcy didn’t know.

  For his part, he endeavored to think of topics on which to engage Anne, to help edge Blackmore out of conversation with her. Unfortunately, idle chatter wasn’t one of Darcy’s strong suits. He’d never regretted his lack of ability more.

  Eventually, a disgruntled look settled over Mr. Blackmore’s features. He favored Darcy with an annoyed glance and turned to his other side, to Lady Catherine, who’d so far been content to be entertained by Richard.

  “Do you know,” Blackmore said into a lull in conversation, “I have such fond memories of Rosings. You’d never guess, but one of them is of the carriage house roof. My brother and I climbed out onto it. Wonderful view from up there.”

  “Climbed out of where?” Richard asked, frowning. “There’s no window leading to the roof.”

  “The, ah, from the higher bit, onto the lower roof,” Mr. Blackmore qualified.

  “I don’t believe there’s a window there,” Richard reiterated. He turned to Lady Catherine. “Is there?”

  There had been, Darcy remembered. He’d climbed there once with George. No, he wouldn’t think of his long-ago companion as George anymore. It was odd that a memory from childhood brought forth Wickham’s given name.

  Lady Catherine frowned as well. “Once, I think. Long ago? It broke and we had it sealed up. No point in paying tax on it.”

  “Oh, well, a shame, that,” Mr. Blackmore said.

  Lady Catherine turned her frown on him.

  “Er, not that I can fault your reason,” Mr. Blackmore stammered. “Actually, it’s certainly better this way. Safer. I daresay it looks better, as well.”

  “Yes, I daresay it does,” Lady Catherine agreed. “What else do you remember?”

  Mr. Blackmore went on to describe several more aspects of the home. Lady Catherine seemed to relax, pleased with the steady flow of compliments Mr. Blackmore heaped on Rosings. Darcy only grew more suspicious.

  By the time the evening ended, Darcy had reached two conclusions. Mr. Blackmore couldn’t be trusted, and Darcy didn’t care for the man. All that remained was to convince Lady Catherine to expel Blackmore from Rosings.

  Chapter Two

  Nearly a week later, Darcy still hadn’t found a way to break Blackmore’s hold on his aunt, although the man ceased his attempts to engage Anne. Darcy suspected Blackmore’s initial interest in his cousin had been an attempt to ingratiate himself to Lady Catherine. Once he realized she didn’t approve of such attentions, Blackmore had immediately
left off trying to draw out Anne. Even with that respite, however, Anne flagged, overtaken by one of her bouts of ill health. She kept to her rooms more and more, with only brief forays to the library to select books.

  Darcy was relieved when Easter morning finally arrived, for Mr. Blackmore was slated to depart the next day. Lady Catherine expressed regrets, but Darcy would be happy to see Blackmore go. He was curious how quickly Anne would recover following the man’s departure.

  After dressing with extra care out of consideration for Easter service, Darcy descended to the breakfast parlor. Richard joined him almost immediately, followed by Lady Catherine. Dutifully, they both complimented her new gown.

  A moment later, Mrs. Jenkinson appeared. “I am afraid Miss de Bourgh isn’t feeling well enough for church,” she said. “If I may, I should like to remain behind with her.”

  “Yes, you must,” Lady Catherine said, expression worried. “Anne’s been unwell for longer than usual. Perhaps I should call in the doctor.”

  “Call the doctor, for me?” Mr. Blackmore said, appearing in the doorway. He placed the back of a hand against his forehead. “How thoughtful. How did you know I’m under the weather today?”

  Lady Catherine turned to him, expression surprised. “You are not well, Mr. Blackmore?”

  Darcy took in the other man’s appearance. He looked like a man about to attend Easter services, not a man of poor health. “Undoubtedly, we’ll meet the doctor at church. You can present your symptoms to him there, Mr. Blackmore.”

  Mr. Blackmore offered an ingratiating smile, but his eyes held a sly glint. “Please, Mr. Darcy, call me cousin. Or George.”

  “Darcy, your cousin has asked you numerous times to address him with familiarity, yet you resist and never return the compliment,” Lady Catherine observed. “Stop being churlish.”

  Darcy settled for another glare at Blackmore, unable to make an acceptable reply to his aunt’s demand.

  Blackmore crossed the room to sink into the nearest chair. “I truly don’t believe I can make it to services.” He let out a long sigh. “I am trying my best, but I’m in the throes of such terrible malaise.” He shot Darcy a look, askance. “In truth, though it reveals how weak I am to admit as much, I believe the source of my malady is my impending departure from Rosings. I can’t sleep at night, thinking on it. I might be able to rally for church, if I could know I might remain a few more days. A week, at most.”