Unforgiving Temper (52 page)

“Nevertheless, I will persist!”

“You cannot! He was wrong to do what he did;
but it was I who provoked him. He was angry and intoxicated, and I
should not have been there. I would never have gone back to get
Lydia's letters if I had any idea he would be there at that hour of
the night. Fortunately you and the colonel arrived in time, and
that must be the end of it.”

“You cannot be serious! He was not so drunk
that he did not know what he was doing. Do you honestly blame
yourself for
his
contemptible behavior?”

“If that is what it takes. I am resolved to
stop this duel. You cannot place yourself in danger for my sake. I
will not allow it! I should never forgive myself if you were
injured or worse. To be in this world without you is unthinkable,
and if I were to be the cause of it –”

“What did you say?” Darcy started in
surprise.

“I said I will not allow you to place
yourself in danger for my sake.”

“After that!”

“I said if I were to be the cause of it.”

“No, you said 'To be in this world without
you is unthinkable'.”

“Well, yes, I, ah…what I meant was that
Georgiana would be inconsolable should you be injured or killed,”
Elizabeth stammered. “You are all she has! I cannot allow you to
jeopardize your sister's happiness.”

“And what of
your
happiness? Last
April, I was the last man in the world with whom you wished to be
acquainted. May I hope that your feelings have changed in some
small degree?”

“If I told you they had, would you call off
this absurd duel?”

“No,” snapped Darcy. “There is much more to
this than you are aware.”

“Then enlighten me, please!”

“Some things are better left alone.”

“Perhaps, but this is not one of them! If you
choose not to explain yourself, I insist you abandon this quest for
my honor.”

“I cannot do that.”

“This is ridiculous!” Elizabeth rose angrily,
swaying slightly as she stood, and Darcy was instantly at her side.
Gently holding her by the arm, he gazed steadily into her eyes,
which did nothing to help the weakness in her knees.

“You have not answered me. Have your feelings
changed?”

“Does it matter?” Elizabeth retorted.

His frustration flared. “Your answer will not
alter the certainty of a duel in the morning, but I should like to
know all the same.”

“You had best accustom yourself to
disappointment, sir, for it will make no difference to tell you
anything when you are so eager to get yourself pointlessly killed!”
she cried, jerking her arm away from him and turning her back.

Elizabeth was trembling visibly, although
whether from fatigue or fury Darcy could not say. He stepped
closer, and was just in time to see tears on her face before her
eyes suddenly rolled back. He barely had time to catch her as she
crumpled. Sweeping her up in his arms, he hurried towards the
stairs, calling for a footman to fetch the doctor. In another
moment he was joined by an anxious Georgiana and Richard.

“Fitzwilliam, what happened? Oh, I was afraid
of this. I knew she was not strong enough. Careful! Do not go too
fast, you will jar her.”

Glancing down at Elizabeth's expressionless
face, Darcy thought of her passionate words regarding his
appointment with Grissholm. She had argued fiercely for Georgiana's
sake, but there had been something more in her fervent pleas. Would
she mourn him if things turned out badly? Had her feelings changed?
She had stubbornly refused to admit it, but she had not denied it
either; and his past experience with her frankness told him she
would not have hesitated if that had been the case.

Elizabeth stirred in his arms, her eyes
fluttering open. Then a sudden bloom of crimson on her face warmed
his heart. Unlike the last time he had carried her up these stairs,
he knew she would be alright.

“Mr. Darcy! Put me down at once! I am
sure I can manage on my own.”

“I beg to differ, madam,” Darcy replied
evenly, ignoring her struggles. After a moment, she gave up and
submitted with as much grace as she could muster. Darcy's mouth
pressed into a tiny smile at her acute embarrassment. The smile
remained as he continued up the stairs, obediently heeding
Georgiana's constant stream of directions to slow down and be very
careful. For the moment, any concerns he might have for the coming
confrontation with Grissholm were forgotten. Elizabeth cared what
happened to him – whether she was willing to admit it or not – and
she was alive and safe within his arms.

Richard stood silently in the early morning
mist as Darcy sliced the cold air with short, rapid strokes,
measuring the weight of his sword and warming his muscles to the
exercise. Across the clearing Grissholm flicked his own sword
impatiently and spoke quietly to the man Richard recognized as the
viscount's second. In the next moment, both Darcy and Grissholm
looked up, locking eyes across the distance. Grissholm gave a
single curt nod to signal his readiness and Darcy's chin lifted in
answer. The anticipation on both men's faces plainly showed the
coming conflict would not be swift, and it would not be over until
one of them was dead.

“Gentlemen.” Dr. Lawrence's voice echoed
loud in the little glade and Darcy's grip tightened on the elegant
short sword; a gesture that did not escape Richard's notice as he
moved away from his cousin.

Coming to a halt in front of
Dr. Lawrence, he bowed curtly to Grissholm's second. Jamison
Bonham was as proud and disagreeable as he had been at their first
meeting.

“Rule 21 of The Code requires me to attempt
reconciliation.” Bonham's mouth twitched in mocking contempt. “Does
the challenger wish to compose the quarrel without bloodshed?”

Richard met the disingenuous civility with
cool disdain. “My principal cites Rule 23.” Richard's blunt words
made clear what everyone already knew; that the offense was of such
a nature that no apology or explanation could be received.

“Very well, we shall begin.”

Turning on his heel, Richard returned to
Darcy as Grissholm came to position and waited. Grissholm and
Bonham's obvious confidence confirmed what he had feared. Darcy
would need every skill he possessed – and more – if he was to come
out of this alive.

“Remember to keep your promise,” Darcy
murmured quietly. “If I should fail, you must keep your
promise.”

“I will Darcy. Georgiana will be safe with
me.”

“And Elizabeth.”

Richard hesitated.

“
And Elizabeth.
Give me your word you
will look after her, Richard. It is the least I can do for her if
things go badly. She would have had a safe and peaceful existence
in Hertfordshire if I had never entered her life.”

“I will look after Georgiana
and
Miss Bennet
if it goes badly, but you must think of
succeeding! Have faith!” Richard's encouraging smile faded to sober
concern as soon as Darcy turned and moved onto the field opposite
Grissholm. With a brief, formal salute, they both dropped into the
en garde
from which only one would emerge alive.

“I have waited a long time for this,”
Grissholm purred. “You will finally pay for your actions at
Cambridge.”

“Lies and innuendo, that is all you had. I
was barely acquainted with the lady, and you know it!”

“So you say. But you cannot deny
I
have had the pleasure of Miss Bennet's
intimate
acquaintance.”

The leering smile ignited Darcy's fury and he
sprang to the attack, instantly forcing Grissholm back a few steps.
Darcy's thrust was quickly blocked and parried. They separated, and
circled, each looking for the advantage.

Then Grissholm lunged, delivering a
succession of maneuvers that grew with lightening rapidity into a
hard-pressed assault. Darcy battled fiercely to meet him stroke for
stroke. The almost musical ring of the dueling swords sounded
through the grove as they clashed rhythmically again and again.
Each man was now fully engaged in the brutal pursuit of their own
personal justice. Richard watched with grim silence, his lips
pressed together in an earnest, silent prayer for his cousin.

There was another brief separation before
Darcy again advanced on Grissholm. His attack was met by a fluid
retreat and riposte which sent Darcy back. Grissholm then pressed
relentlessly with a rapid series of lunges, forcing Darcy further
back, step by step. With expert form, Darcy parried and thrust only
to be reversed again, as Grissholm lunged forward, his tip catching
the fabric at Darcy's elbow and slashing the sleeve open to his
wrist.

A spasm of panic shot through Richard at the
near hit. They had counted upon Grissholm having given up his
training, having lost some of the speed and skill that he had
displayed at Cambridge. Clearly that hope had been a vain one, for
Grissholm still moved with all the sinuous, lethal grace of a
master swordsman. His blade flickered in a blur almost too fast to
be seen, and it was requiring all Darcy's efforts merely to keep
the lightening-quick blade from piercing his body. Tiny beads of
sweat were already starting to gather on Darcy's brow as Richard
watched him stumble backwards, desperately parrying yet another
confident advance.

Dread seeped into Richard's veins as he
watched the fatigue grow in his cousin's every movement. He was
outmatched. Darcy was going to die today.

And there was absolutely nothing Richard
could do about it.

After a brief, fierce exchange of
right-of-way, Grissholm lunged with a final, forceful thrust toward
Darcy's heart. Darcy countered quickly, but it was not enough.
Grissholm's sword plunged deeply into Darcy's side.

With a dissatisfied growl Grissholm pulled
back, his retreating blade drawing a line of dark red blood that
blossomed on Darcy's stark white shirt. A low grunt of astonished
pain came from Darcy as he clutched his side and staggered, then
sank to the ground.

Richard rushed forward, pulling anxiously at
the bloodied shirttail. “Darcy! How bad is it?”

“Lay him back so I can see,”
Dr. Lawrence commanded brusquely. With quick, efficient hands,
Lawrence worked to stem the bleeding and assess the injury. He
looked over to an impatient Grissholm and reported, “He needs
dressing.”

Giving Richard a concerned frown, he set to
work. The wound was a clean cut, but deep – and they both knew
deadly infection thrived in such injuries. Grim-faced, Lawrence
poured a pungent solution over the laceration causing Darcy to
stiffen and hiss viciously through clenched teeth.

“Wrap it well, Lawrence. Grissholm is
waiting.”

“Oh, no – not today! Anything I do now will
not hold for another round.”

“He is right, Darcy,” Richard added. “Let me
talk to Bonham – ”

“No! Do the best you can and stand aside, for
I will have this business done here and now.”

“This is madness, Darcy. You must have time
to recover.” Dr. Lawrence struggled to win what he knew to be
a battle already lost. “Your honored father gave you good
principles, sir; but I do not believe he meant for you to end your
life in this manner. If he were here, he would – ”

“My father is not here, Doctor; and
you
are here as my physician, not my conscience. Kindly
confine your advice to the subject of medicine.”

Lawrence could say no more and Richard looked
away from Darcy's fierce expression, caught up in his own private
skirmish with reason and honor. The defense of Elizabeth Bennet's
reputation was a noble cause, indeed; but the thought of Darcy's
death and the far-reaching effects it would bring was
unbearable.

How could he continue to honor Darcy's
express wish that the duel proceed unopposed, no matter who
prevailed? Darcy would certainly be no match for Grissholm now that
he was injured. All the determination in the world would not be
enough.

His mind made up, Richard rose from Darcy's
side, ignoring the angry objections that followed him, and signaled
a meeting with Bonham.

Swallowing back the bile that rose in his
throat as Grissholm's second swaggered arrogantly toward him, he
kept his voice even. “Will your principal acknowledge first blood
and consider the challenge satisfied?”

“But, Colonel, yours is the challenger, not
mine!” Bonham scoffed contemptuously. “He has invoked the rule
which refused any reconciliation. Has Lord Grissholm's display
of superior skill inspired a sudden change of heart?”

Richard's jaw tightened at the implication of
cowardice. “As we are playing by the rules, I would remind you of
numbers five and twenty-one. Blood has been shed and a
reconciliation
must
be attempted.”

“Yes, it has,” Bonham's lips quirked smugly.
“Very well, I shall consult with my principal.”

With a heavy sigh, Richard returned to report
the meeting. Lawrence's ministrations were all that kept a livid
Darcy from flying at him.

“What do you think you are doing?!”

“I am trying to save your life.”

“Do not interfere, Richard.”

“You cannot win and you know it. The odds
were not in your favor before it began, and with this injury, you
shall not last another five minutes. Be reasonable, Darcy. What
good will you be to Georgiana – and Miss Bennet – if you are
dead?”

“The Colonel has a point,” Lawrence added.
“You have a deep wound and a damaged rib, at the very least. If the
pain doesn't stop you, the loss of blood will.”

“I cannot concede. You saw what he did to
her, both of you! Would you have me absolve him of it? No, it is
too great an offense to let stand.”

Richard shook his head sadly. “Convention
allows you to be a chivalrous fool, but do not let it make you a
dead one. Which do you think your dear Elizabeth would prefer you
to be?” The impropriety of mentioning Miss Bennet's Christian
name and in such an intimate way grated against his nature, but he
was trying to save Darcy's life. The look he saw in response told
him he had succeeded in breaching his cousin's intractable
determination.