Chapter 21
Darcy gaped at his retreating friend. He took a calming breath. He looked around if they were overheard. He, a coward? Why would Charles say such a thing? He was not a coward! He was doing his duty! The word stuck in his throat; it gave his mouth a bitter taste.
He was shocked that his attachment to Miss Elizabeth was not a secret. He was about to bury her in his heart. He was. It was just so damn hard. He had spent the previous days buried in work in his office. He did not dare take a break because he knew that thoughts of her would come as they did every night. It was hell. He drank to numb the ache. And then Charles came and just told him that he was a coward. Hell, no. He deserved a bloody medal for the pain he put himself through. In full indignation, he followed his friend into the great room.
Bingley was ready for the fight. Darcy needed one as well. He was waiting for Darcy on the piste1. Bingley was at home on it. He hardly was five or six when his father engaged a master for him. He was an energetic child; his father thought to tire him out with the lessons. He was, as probably every male child, very eager to learn. His nature was not academic in general. With fencing though, he was a natural. He stood out from his peers, always. At university, it became his saving grace. He was admired for his exceptional fencing skills. Many wanted to fight him. And this was probably the only area in which he was better than Darcy. Well, that and his ability and willingness to smile and converse with people.
Darcy and Bingley had fenced many times. Most of the time, Bingley was the winner, but a few times Darcy bested him. Bingley was determined to make his friend work for it this time. Usually, it was he who advanced and started the fight, so he decided that this time, he would let Darcy do the work. Darcy joined him on the carpet with a determined expression on his face. Good, Bingley thought. This was going to be a good bout2.
They both took their positions. Bingley waited. This disconcerted Darcy, and he finally engaged. The fight started. Darcy lunged, stepped forward with one leg, but it was not enough. Bingley simply stepped back and forced Darcy to leave his position and place. Bingley almost leisurely parried his attack. It was almost too easy. Darcy forced himself to calm down and concentrate. Just in good time to parry Bingley's riposte3. And so it went. The bout was quite balanced. People had gathered around them. As both were known as good fighters, it was always a treat for others to watch two good fencers try each other. Of course, bets were quickly made as well.
Bingley enjoyed fencing. For him, it was a combination of dance and speed. He enjoyed studying his opponent and his movements. Over the years he developed the ability to tell from a look what his opponent was about to do. This gave him much power over them. He would be able to parry effectively and surprise the other with a counterattack. As he did just now, Darcy was too late in realizing what he was doing and Bingley touched.
'You are still thinking too much. Allow yourself to just feel.'
'Shut up, Bingley. En garde.' They started again.
Darcy was good. As with everything he tried, he mastered fencing as well. His stature being broad and tall, he was surprisingly quick on his feet. A lot of his opponents made the mistake of thinking him slow. Well, they only made that mistake once. The other advantage Darcy had was his intelligence. He was patient and most of the time he was in total control. He played with his opponents. He did not play to win; he played for the game of cat and mouse. He was waiting for the one mistake his opponent would make and turned it against him.
Bingley wanted to teach him a lesson? He let him. When he became overconfident, he would make a mistake. And so it happened. Bingley was surprised by Darcy's sudden thrust. He did not often use that move. Darcy won the second match.
In the third, both attacked and parried. Their dance was graceful yet full of energy. And so they went for a while. Finally, Bingley issued a false attack designed to force Darcy into a reaction that opened the way to a genuine attack. Hit.
'Merde.' Darcy shouted surprised. The bout was over. They bowed to each other. Darcy was still in high dudgeon. He marched off and had to win two more fights with others before he turned to change in the dressing room. Bingley was waiting for him.
'Shall we go to the club?'
'I am still too wound up. Let's go to mine. After dinner, we can talk.'
'Caroline is waiting for me to go home for dinner. I guess I can make her wait.'
Darcy's London housekeeper, Mrs. Wilson, loved it when her master was within. He usually spent the majority of the year in the country at Pemberley or visiting with friends. She knew Darcy did not enjoy the season. It was not his world. He rather spent his evenings at the theatre or with his few good friends having a good talk over dinner. Thankfully, he was not one of those that spent hours gambling and frequenting questionable houses. Mrs. Wilson served her master by running an efficient household and she tried to offer him her loyalty and motherly affections. The poor lad lost his mother too early and then his father left him as well. So, instead of enjoying himself, since he was not yet three and twenty, her master was burdened by managing his huge inheritance.
He had just arrived back at Darcy House on Thursday, three days ago. He was altered. She could not put her finger on what had changed, but her master was not himself. He worked and worked, would not see anybody, and his bottles needed refilling. That had never happened before. Something bothered him, she was sure of it.
She was very happy then when he announced that he was going out today, and she was even happier when he returned with Mr. Bingley. That one was a good boy, a great friend to Mr. Darcy. Maybe he could get him out of his mood streak. She greeted them and told them that Cook had prepared a good stew in a pie and the cake he baked would be a travesty not to try.
The food was indeed good and they gorged themselves on it. They both worked up a good appetite. The friends went to the billiard room for a game and to talk.
'Let us talk about you first.' Bingley nodded while he chose his cue. 'Are you really considering Miss Bennet?'
'Yes. I would like to say she is an angel, but it is sorely inadequate. I have said it too many times. I am yet to be 24. Am I too young to marry? Maybe. But I also recognize that she is such a woman that if she were of the ton, I would have no chance with her. She would be picked up like that.' He gestured with his hand.
'Do you know what it was I liked best about her? The fact that she, same as her sister, by the way, did not engage in empty compliments, empty flirting, empty conversations. She did not bore me with subjects that a man has no idea about and, especially, interest in. How many women do we know that are actually pleasant to talk to?' Darcy looked at his friend. He was right. Their conversation was delicate; they did not push their opinions on others, they did not talk over others, and they did not disparage.
'You must be right.'
'I know I am right. I think we were given a gift in their persons. But let's just talk about me. After you warned me not to raise expectations, I walked with her and talked to her when we went there with our invitations. I apologized to her and explained my stance. She agreed to give us a chance to get to know each other.'
'You-you talked about it with her? Just like that? So what, are you now courting?'
'No, we just agreed to get to know each other without the pressure. I will have to be more circumspect. I tried to act accordingly at the ball already.'
'I see. That would mean you would have to go back.'
'And that is what I intend to do. Caroline has gone too far. You are right, I always give in to her. Not this time. She presumes to know what is best for me, but not for my sake but hers. I cannot allow that.'
'I do not know what to say, Charles. That is very refreshing to hear from you. At the same time, I would also appreciate it if you talked to her about her mission to become Mrs. Darcy. It will not happen. She is wasting her time with me.' Bingley sighed.
'Yes, I will do that. I have done it before though.'
'I am going back for myself. I realize that I have to learn the estate business. As you will not be available, are there any books you can recommend?'
'I will make a list and send it to you.'
'Thank you. Now, what are you about?'
'Nothing. I am going to Pemberley next week.'
'When will you be back?'
'I do not know. The season starts early next year with parliament reopening in early January.'
'I was referring to Miss Elizabeth.' Darcy missed his ball. He sighed.
'I know. There is nothing to discuss, nothing to say. She is a wonderful lady… but not for me.'
'Why? What is the requirement to become Mrs. Darcy?'
'You know very well.'
'The ton? Darcy, you have been at the edges of the ton for years. Have you found any ladies that compare? Has any lady of the ton made you want to dance a reel as you did in my parlour?'
Darcy played his ball. He did not hit it right. It was not his day.
'Your turn.'
1 Fencing carpet
2 A contest in its entirety between two fencers
3 A counterattack by a fencer who just has blocked an attack by the opponent with a parry
