A Duel in Meryton Read online

  “So, you came here, where we are well aware of all you shall inherit,” Elizabeth said.

  Mr. Collins looked about the table again, expression baffled. “I assumed at least one of you would realize how advantageous a marriage to me would be. Your father will not live forever. In fact, he looks ill to me. He hardly ate anything.”

  “You are right,” Mr. Bennet said, standing. “I do feel ill.” He walked from the room.

  Elizabeth stared after him in shock, then looked about the room to find her sisters and mother all wore similar expressions. One by one, these morphed into varying degrees of hostility. Soon, a table full of women glared at Mr. Collins.

  “I, um, don’t feel well myself,” Mr. Collins said, rising. “If you’ll excuse me?” When no answer proved forthcoming, he offered a jerky bow and hurried from the room.

  ***

  In a state of mild trepidation, Elizabeth trailed Jane down to breakfast the following morning. Their first evening with their cousin had not gone well. After his abrupt departure from dinner, they had seen no more of Mr. Collins, or Mr. Bennet.

  Elizabeth entered to find she and Jane were first to arrive, which did nothing to quell her nerves. Their father usually rose before any of them. Trying to ignore her worry for him, Elizabeth put on a good face, for Jane still appeared paler than normal. Elizabeth didn’t wish to fret her.

  They were joined shortly by Mary, then Kitty and Lydia. By that time, Elizabeth had eaten her fill, but Jane hadn’t consumed much. Elizabeth remained, trying to encourage Jane to eat.

  Heavy steps sounded in the hall. They all stilled to watch Mr. Collins enter. He paused in the doorway and gaped at them. He raised a hand to rub his forehead and Elizabeth took in his pallor.

  “Join us, Mr. Collins?” Kitty said.

  He nodded and tromped into the room.

  “Not feeling yourself this morning, Mr. Collins?” Mary asked, tone over-sweet.

  “I… I am not accustomed to wine with dinner,” he mumbled. He made his way to the sideboard.

  “Don’t most real gentlemen have wine with dinner?” Lydia asked.

  Mr. Collins made no reply as he selected his fare. Elizabeth cast her youngest sister an amused look, but Jane and Kitty frowned. Mary appeared smug.

  Mr. Collins came to the table and sat. “I thought, after breakfast, I might read Fordyce’s sermons to you all.”

  “Ug,” Lydia replied.

  “Oh?” Mary asked. “Why not something from Ephesians? Perhaps around 5:18.”

  “No reading,” Lydia said. “I’m going into town to see Aunt Phillips.”

  “You have tasks here,” Mary said. “Idle hands, Lydia.”

  “We must introduce our cousin around,” Lydia countered. “He’s spent all his funds to come here and find a wife.”

  “Who is Aunt Phillips?” Mr. Collins asked. He took a long sip of coffee.

  “She is our mother’s sister,” Kitty said. “That makes her a connection, especially if you marry one of us.”

  Mary wrinkled her nose, mirroring Elizabeth’s feelings on that subject.

  “I’m sure you’d like to meet Aunt Phillips,” Lydia declared.

  “Does she have any daughters?” Mr. Collins asked hopefully.

  “No, but she knows all the unmarried women in town, and she entertains frequently,” said Jane.

  Mr. Collins’ expression brightened. He took another swallow of coffee. “I should like to meet your aunt. I have much of Fordyce memorized. I can recite to you along the way.”

  “Wonderful,” Lydia said flatly. She turned to Kitty. “Do we still wish to go?”

  Kitty nodded.

  “I should like to walk, if you don’t plan a rapid pace,” Jane said. “I’ve been indoors a very long while.”

  “Why is that, Cousin Jane?” Mr. Collins asked.

  “Jane has been very ill,” Kitty said.

  “I am sorry to learn that,” Mr. Collins said, but Elizabeth could practically see him adding ‘sickly’ to his list of her sister’s qualities.

  “I will remain here and practice,” Mary declared. “I’ve nearly perfected that new sheet music I bought last month.”

  Lydia opened her mouth, but Elizabeth cast her a glare and spoke first, “And I shall remain to see to some tasks I’ve neglected.”

  “Neglected?” Mr. Collins echoed.

  “Indeed. For at least a week.” Elizabeth didn’t elaborate that she’d been at Netherfield tending Jane. She watched Mr. Collins add a lack of industry to his mental list regarding her. “I’ll tell my mother where you’ve gone.”

  Elizabeth saw the others off, and Mary into the parlor and at the pianoforte, before hurrying above stairs to check on her parents. She knocked on her mother’s door first and was bade enter. Elizabeth pushed open the door of her mother’s small sitting room to find Mrs. Bennet seated before a lavish spread.

  “Jane, Kitty and Lydia have taken Mr. Collins to town to meet Aunt Phillips,” Elizabeth said.

  “Thank heavens,” Mrs. Bennet said. “I cannot endure that man’s presence in my home. Look at me, forced to hide in my room while I breakfast.”

  Elizabeth forwent pointing out that Mrs. Bennet routinely used any excuse to have food brought to her. “Have you seen Father yet this morning?”

  “Mr. Bennet?” Mrs. Bennet frowned. “Why would I?”

  “He said he felt unwell last evening,” Elizabeth reminded her mother.

  “Posh. He’s simply avoiding that odious Mr. Collins.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “I’ll go make certain.” She closed her mother’s door and went down the hall to the next, even though her mother’s sitting room adjoined her father’s bedchamber. If Mr. Bennet wished to see his wife, he would have opened the door. A knock on her father’s door brought his valet.

  “Mr. Simmons, is my father awake?” Elizabeth asked. “He didn’t come to breakfast.”

  “Your father is not feeling himself, miss,” Mr. Simmons said.

  “Is that Lizzy?” her father’s voice called. “Let her in.”

  Mr. Simmons backed into the room with a bow.

  Elizabeth followed to find her father propped up in bed. He hadn’t shaved, his countenance pale. She hurried to his side.

  “Papa?” she cried, the word a question. She scooped his hand from atop the coverlet to hold in both her own. “Whatever is the matter?”

  “Nothing. I simply do not feel well.”

  “I’d hoped you’d only tired of Mr. Collins.”

  Her father offered a slight smile. “That, too.”

  “I shall send for Doctor Flynn.”

  “Why?” her father asked. “He can’t make Collins any more bearable.”

  Elizabeth tried to smile at her father’s joke, but his sudden illness robbed the expression of amusement. Or was it sudden? She recalled how tired he’d appeared when she and Jane returned the previous morning. She hadn’t seen her father in over a week, having been at Netherfield. “How long have you been feeling unwell? Has the doctor been yet?”

  Mr. Bennet looked past her with a grimace. “Mr. Simmons insisted we call him several days ago.”

  Elizabeth swiveled to see her father’s valet still waited by the door. “What did Doctor Flynn say, Mr. Simmons?”

  “He said I am perfectly well,” Mr. Bennet said

  Elizabeth didn’t turn back to her father, her gaze leveled on his valet.

  “Doctor Flynn said your father must rest and not tax himself,” Mr. Simmons said.

  “Thank you.” Elizabeth turned back to her father, hiding a frown. “In that case, I shall not reprimand you, but instead shall offer to read to you,” she said with as much cheer as she could muster.

  Her father let out a relieved sigh. “That would be kind of you, Lizzy.”

  “I’ll return shortly. May I assume you wish to continue with the book on your desk?”

  He settled lower in his pile of pillows. “You may, though I warn you’ll find it dry. I’m making a study of
history.”

  “Which part?”

  “All of it.”

  Elizabeth nodded and rose from his side. She maintained her pleasant expression until her father’s door closed behind her, then gave in to a frown. Her father was never unwell. Then, neither was Jane. Could it be the same illness? Jane was younger, and strong, and she’d grown quite sick. Elizabeth schooled her features, unsure whom she might encounter as she traversed the halls and fetched her father’s book.

  She was glad she hadn’t joined the others on their walk. Her father needed her, no matter that he wouldn’t have asked. Besides which, she reflected with a wry smile, whatever her father was reading was likely to be more interesting than Fordyce’s Sermons. Gibbon may have said that history was ‘little more than the register of the crimes, follies, and misfortunes of mankind,’ but any part of it must be more interesting than listening to Mr. Collins recite Fordyce’s version of how women should behave.

  Elizabeth read to her father for two hours, detailing various Roman exploits. He complained that she skipped some, and she reread a bit. She then switched to Aesop’s Fables, which she found by his bed, since, unlike history, these did not have to be read in order, so she could skip to her favorites. Eventually, his eyes drifted closed and his breathing evened out. When he started snoring, she decided he was deeply asleep. She marked their place and closed the book.

  As she stepped into the hall, Jane topped the staircase. She hurried forward with a smile, looking better than she had since before falling ill. Not wishing to disturb their father, Elizabeth gestured Jane to silence and then into their room.

  “Would you like to do some mending?” Jane asked. “I thought I might. Mama chided us all for our lack of industry. She was waiting for us in the parlor when we returned.”

  “Did you have a pleasant walk?” Elizabeth took in the bright sparkle in Jane’s eyes. “Did you meet anyone in particular?”

  A flush colored Jane’s cheeks, but her smile only grew. “We met several people. At Aunt Philips, we met a Mr. Wickham. He’s an officer. He recently joined the regiment here.”

  “Oh?” Elizabeth pressed, sure a new officer couldn’t be the source of Jane’s smile.

  “He’s rather handsome, and friendly. You will like him, Lizzy. He’ll be at Aunt Phillips tomorrow evening. Oh, Lydia accomplished her goal. Aunt Phillips invited us all to dine there tomorrow evening, along with several officers.”

  “That’s good news,” Elizabeth said. She eyed her older sister. “But I’m certain it is not all of your news. Come now, who else did you meet, Jane?”

  The pink in Jane’s cheeks brightened. “We also happened to meet Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley. They were riding in the lane. They were on their way here to ask after me.”

  “How considerate of them,” Elizabeth said. Having gotten the truth from Jane, she saw no reason to tease her sister further. “Was Mr. Fitzwilliam with them?” Elizabeth felt mild curiosity as to whether the gentleman had asked after her. He’d been a pleasant companion at Netherfield.

  Jane shook her head. “He was calling on the Lucases.”

  “Indeed? I wonder why.”

  Jane shrugged. “Who can say? They did ask after you, though, the gentlemen.”

  Elizabeth issued a wry smile. “Both of them?”

  “Well, Mr. Bingley did,” Jane amended. “Mr. Darcy appeared interested in the reply, however.”

  Mr. Darcy probably hoped Elizabeth had fallen ill, given the way he’d constantly glowered at her at Netherfield. “That was very kind of Mr. Bingley.”

  “And of Mr. Darcy,” Jane said.

  Elizabeth shook her head but didn’t press her sister. Jane would never admit ill of anyone, even someone as quarrelsome as Mr. Darcy. “Did you say you intend to do mending?”

  Jane nodded.

  “Would you mind very much mending in Father’s room?” Elizabeth asked, for she’d tasks in the garden she might see to, if someone else would stay with their father. Elizabeth didn’t wish to make too fine a point of it, but she’d been indoors the entire day, and much of those previous.

  “In Father’s room?” Jane echoed, brow creasing.

  “He’s not feeling well,” Elizabeth said. “I’ve been reading to him, but he’s asleep now. I should like someone to be there when he wakes.”

  “He’s unwell?” Jane’s tone held worry. “I thought he simply didn’t wish to dine with Mr. Collins any longer.”

  “I thought so, too,” Elizabeth said. “Apparently, he’s been increasingly unwell while we were away. So far, he’s kept his condition from all but Simmons.”

  “Have you called Doctor Flynn?” Jane asked, expression anxious.

  “He’s already been. He advocates rest and quiet.”

  “Certainly, I will go sit with Father,” Jane said. “It’s the least I can do, and you’ve only recently spent more than a week nursing me.”

  “I would never begrudge either of you even a moment of my care.”

  “I know.” Jane smiled. She went around the bed to retrieve her mending. “Should we tell Mama?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “We’ll let Father decide when to do that. Who knows? He may be much improved tomorrow and we shan’t need to.”

  “Yes, of course.” Jane smiled. “I’m sure he’ll be well tomorrow.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The following morning, Elizabeth headed out for a walk while Jane read to their father. She went first toward the Lucases, thinking she might invite Charlotte along and regale her with tales of Mr. Collins. When she neared, however, she spotted Mr. Fitzwilliam’s horse tied out front. Much as Elizabeth had enjoyed his company at Netherfield, she veered away. She didn’t wish to interrupt whatever business Mr. Fitzwilliam had with Sir William Lucas. Nor did she wish to be caught indoors socializing, or to endure possible questions about the wellness of her family.

  Instead, she indulged in a long, brusque walk with only her thoughts as companions. This proved an error, as those thoughts kept returning to Mr. Darcy and how aggravating he was. Why she must constantly think on the man she couldn’t fathom. They’d only his insult at the assembly and a few brief words at Netherfield between them. Yet, whenever she found no ready means of distraction, his image rose in her consciousness.

  She disapproved but felt it quite possible her preoccupation sprang from stung pride. No gentleman had ever insulted her so directly before, or so harshly. What a contrast Mr. Darcy was to his sister, who’d been a lovely companion, a bright spot in Elizabeth’s time at Netherfield. Miss Darcy seemed to genuinely care about Jane, and to enjoy her and Elizabeth’s company. Elizabeth would be eternally glad that Miss Darcy and Mr. Fitzwilliam had been there.

  Mr. Bennet was asleep when Elizabeth returned from her walk and remained so for most of the day, but woke shortly before they were due at the Phillips for dinner. Elizabeth readily volunteered to stay home with him. Jane had spent the morning reading to their father, and she’d even less opportunity to enjoy society recently than Elizabeth had. Mary offered to remain as well, but Elizabeth knew how hard her younger sister had been working on her new sheet music and how much she longed to entertain with it and refused her.

  Predictably, neither Kitty nor Lydia offered to stay. Not that Elizabeth would have accepted. She wouldn’t torment her father thusly. What she did do, was read to him until he fell asleep. She then watched him for a time, trying to believe he breathed easier than the day before. When the hour grew late and the others still hadn’t returned from the Phillips, Elizabeth tiptoed from her father’s room and sought her bed.

  Unsurprisingly, given how late it seemed when Jane joined her in their room, Elizabeth arrived downstairs for breakfast before any of the others. Her sisters and cousin trickled in, all conversing amiably about their dinner at the Phillips. Elizabeth marveled at the difference of a day. The morning before, her sisters could hardly stomach Mr. Collins. Now, they conversed as friends. Occupied with her thoughts and not blessed with her sisters’ mor
e favorable attitude toward the man, Elizabeth didn’t attend to their conversation. As she poured her second cup of tea, Mrs. Bennet came in. She leveled a frown at Mr. Collins but said nothing as she took her seat.

  “…was raised alongside Mr. Darcy like they were brothers,” Lydia said, Mr. Darcy’s name catching Elizabeth’s attention.

  “Who is like Mr. Darcy’s brother?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Mr. Wickham,” Kitty said.

  “The officer I mentioned.” Jane dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “The new one we met at dinner last night.”

  Mary frowned. “He was too handsome.”

  “Nonsense,” Mrs. Bennet said. “An officer can’t be too handsome. Jane, pass me the preserves.”

  “What does the too-handsome Mr. Wickham have to do with Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth asked as Jane proffered the preserves to their mother.

  “Mr. Wickham was the son of old Mr. Darcy’s steward and they were raised together,” Lydia said.

  Mrs. Bennet smeared a spoonful of preserves on a roll as she said, “Mr. Wickham said that Mr. Darcy was supposed to give him a living, but when the incumbent died, that horrible Mr. Darcy gave it to someone else.”

  “And do we believe this Mr. Wickham?” Elizabeth asked. For all Mr. Darcy seemed overly dour, he didn’t strike her as dishonest.

  “He’s an officer,” Lydia said. “And he’s too handsome to lie.”

  Elizabeth exchanged an amused glance with Jane. “I don’t believe it works that way,” Elizabeth murmured. Aesop said that people are known by the company they keep. Mr. Darcy kept company with Mr. Fitzwilliam and Mr. Bingley. More importantly, they kept company with him.

  “I find his story unlikely,” Mr. Collins said. “If Mr. Darcy did deny Mr. Wickham what was owed to him, he should be able to seek legal recourse.”

  “We asked about that,” Kitty said. “Mr. Wickham said there was a minor technicality in the wording of old Mr. Darcy’s will that made it so he couldn’t seek legal recourse.”