Charles Bingley was not having a good day. He was hiding under one of the hedges after Mr. Darcy had summarily demolished him in battle. His sword was probably hiding under one of the bushes, too.
Binglet had requested the chance to be trained under the deadly arts under his friend Fitzwilliam Darcy as his own had been unceremoniously cut off.
Bingley trained under Master Noboru in Japan in the deadly arts but his training was discontinued after he received word of Mother and Father's demise. Parentless, he and his sisters returned home to be taught under London masters but after witnessing his wife's stellar skill with the sword and hand-to-hand combat, he realized he could not protect their estate, much less their unborn child.
He was shook out of his revelry when he felt the cold metal of a katana pressed against the side of his neck. He felt himself take in a shaky breath.
"Do you yield?" A gruff voice sounded from somewhere to his left.
Mr. Bingley shut his eyes. "Yes."
A sigh. "Wrong answer, my friend." And the deadly katana was lifted away.
"What is the matter?" Darcy asked him, tossing Bingley's own sword in his lap.
Bingley looked mournfully at the sharp blade. "I'm buggered at this, Darcy."
"Nonsense," Darcy's manner was stern. "You are a beginner at this and this is simply how beginners are."
"But I studied under London masters in the deadly arts the same amount of years as you did, Darcy. And now, I'm taking more. I can't learn how to swordfight when I can barely hold a candle to my wife."
"And what is wrong with that, Mr. Bingley?" Her voice sounded from above, like the angel she was.
Bingley scrambled up to offer an arm to his pregnant wife. Obliging, Elizabeth passed the honor to Bingley. Jane held her husband's hand in her own and smiled up at him.
"I didn't marry you for your skill with the sword, Mr. Bingley. I married you because your manners were pleasing and your fine ease coupled with your good breeding."
"Don't forget the money." Bingley teased.
"Yes, how could I forget the money?" Jane raised a brow at that.
"If you would not mind, Mr. Bingley, I could assist you with your training." Elizabeth good-naturedly asked, "I fear my husband, shall we say, takes training to the extreme." Beside her, Darcy snorted.
"Or," Jane interjected, "You could just practice with the musket. It is not often you will have to use your hand-to-hand combat skills in conquering the undead."
Darcy shook his head. "Beg your pardon, Mrs. Bingley, but Charles is a master in the European gun weaponry. Less so with the Oriental deadly arts."
Elizabeth frowned. "That is unfortunate. Perhaps you should have started him off with Aikido, dear, instead of going straight to Kenjutsu."
Charles looked at his friends fretting over the method of how to go about his training. He looked at his patient wife who interjected at certain points and laughed at their witticisms. He looked at himself, at his thin frame, slender from luxuries and came to a conclusion.
"It's fine, Mrs. Darcy." Charles' voice sounded strange to his own ears. "I will continue my training under Mr. Darcy and strive to do my best."
Darcy shot a victorious look at his wife. Elizabeth wrinkled her nose at him playfully. Those two, they were so compatible.
Beside him, Jane gripped his hands and kissed his knuckles. Her eyes were shining. "I'm so proud of you, dear. I know it's discomforting to continue training after years of relaxation but it shall be worth it."
Bingleyt sighed. "Yes, I know that. Well, I suppose I need to find my sword now. It's probably still sticking out of a bush."
"Are you perhaps referring to the bush that was 6 feet high?" Jane's incredulous voice asked.
"Yes," Bingley grinned, "I threw it at poor Mr. Darcy when he tried to take a stab at me."