Page 19 of Dishonorable Gentlemen (Bennet Gang #1)

A Point of Honor

Darcy sat before the rather plain, though imposing, desk in the study of Bingley’s leased manor house, Hurst in a similar armchair beside him. They both waited for Bingley to voice his reason for asking them to join him there, away from the ladies. Across from them, Bingley drummed his fingers on the smooth wood of the desk, the dark green curtains behind him casting him in a somewhat sallow light as they filtered the weak autumnal sunlight.

“I have no notion what to do,” he finally blurted.

“About?” Darcy asked. Though he suspected he knew the answer to that question, he felt it better to be certain before offering advice.

“About Miss Bennet. About Netherfield Park.” Bingley shook his head. “About any of it.” He slid a page across the desk. “I received a reply from Mr. Parkland. He’s put an exorbitant sum forth as the price of the place. I appealed to his sense of justice, but he writes that Collins does his job well and makes everyone wealthy, and says that unless I do buy the place, what goes on locally is none of my concern.”

“He is correct in that,” Darcy admitted. As corrupt as he’d come to believe the local landholders and magistrate were, it truly was none of their concern.

“What is it you want to do?” Hurst asked.

“I want to court Miss Bennet without her being threatened, or me.” Bingley shrugged. “That should not be so much to ask.”

Darcy considered that for a moment. “Let us say that we believe Collins would harm her, or you, in some way, which I put forth for the sake of argument only, as I cannot quite credit that.”

“I cannot take the risk that he’ll hurt Miss Bennet in any way,” Bingley interrupted.

Darcy nodded in acknowledgment of that. “Which is why we will move forward under the supposition that his threat is not hollow. Therefore, the safest thing to do is to end your suit. To, in fact, leave Hertfordshire altogether. For her sake, and your own. I will add, as well, that we have evidence in the form of the letter Miss Mary left that Miss Bennet sees that as the best solution as well.”

Darcy knew his suggestion made sense, but he was uncertain he could abide by it even if Bingley accepted the idea. Leave the Bennet sisters, all of Meryton, to the machinations of Collins? This region was not Darcy’s concern. None of the land or people here were his responsibility, but turning his back on them seemed wrong.

The muscles in Bingley’s jaw rippled as he clenched his teeth. “Abandoning my suit of Miss Bennet is the one thing I will not do.”

“You could elope with the girl,” Hurst suggested. “Take her and run.”

Darcy turned to him in shock.

Hurst shrugged. “It would solve a lot.”

“It would sully her honor, and Bingley’s,” Darcy cast back. “And what of her sisters? Who would marry them then?”

“They are comely girls. Looking at Dovemark, they must have some sort of dowries.” Hurst shrugged. “Someone will wed them.”

Horrified by the notion, Darcy slanted a look at Bingley, worried he would see excitement for the idea.

Fortunately, Bingley was shaking his head. “We cannot leave. My sister has invited the Hargreaves here.”

“And Lord Franklin is not the sort you want to make an enemy of,” Hurst said. “Especially not if he remains heir to an earl. He is a vindictive, petty man who would hold a rescinded invitation against you.”

“That is a consideration, to be certain,” Bingley acknowledged. “Of more concern to me, now that I’ve had time to think on the matter, are your impressions of the man.” His glance included both Darcy and Hurst. “I fear we bring another Collins into the lives of the Bennets and Oakwoods. Though I have not met Lord Franklin, I feel the need to protect them from him.”

Hurst snorted. “Are you certain that is due to our impressions of the man? Not Caroline’s suggestion that he will attempt to woo Miss Bennet?”

Bingley flushed.

“Rescind the invitation, return to London, and bear the brunt of Lord Franklin’s ire.” Darcy raised a hand when Bingley opened his mouth to protest. “I am not saying that you should remain away forever, but that you might give tempers here an opportunity to cool. We know that Mr. Collins has not pursued Miss Bennet for years. It is only your presence and the threat that you might purchase Netherfield Park that spurred him into pressing a suit now.”

Bingley looked down at the hands he rested atop the desk, thoughtful.

“Sensible as your plan is, Darcy, it fails to address one issue,” Hurst said. “Two, if you are feeling chivalrous.”

“And those would be?” Darcy tried to keep annoyance from his voice.

Hurst held up a finger. “For one, Lord Franklin will come to Meryton regardless. He will not leave a potential usurper to his inheritance uninvestigated.” Hurst held up a second finger. “For another, from what I have gleaned mingling with the locals over cards, the only way many of them survive under the harshness of the taxes here is through the generosity of the Boney Bandits.” Hurst leveled a look at Darcy. “It is rumored that you are the impetus behind a militia arriving here to hunt them down. I have no notion what is to be done about that now, but we are responsible.”

Darcy scowled. Hurst sounded like Miss Elizabeth.

Bingley turned to him in surprise. “Are you responsible, Darcy?”

Heat scorched the back of his neck but Darcy squared his shoulders. He’d done nothing wrong in attempting to rid a community of bandits. “I wrote to my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and asked that he use his influence to have a militia unit brought in, yes.”

Worry filled Bingley’s eyes. “That was not very well done of you.”

“How was I to know they are local heroes?” Like Robin Hood.

An unusual sternness overtook Bingley’s visage. “I believe that was made fairly clear to us on our first visit to Meryton.”

Darcy looked away, annoyed to realize that Bingley was correct. The local populace had made no secret of their adulation for the two Frenchmen. Darcy had simply assumed that he knew what was best for their community. That he knew better than they did.

Realizing he clutched the arms of his chair tightly, he eased his grip.

“Regardless,” Hurst said into the silence. “Done is done, and we seem no nearer to a plan.”

Bingley sighed, deflating into misery. “We cannot leave without putting the Bennets and Oakwoods into possible danger. I cannot purchase this estate, even were I willing to come up with such an exorbitant sum, without putting them and possibly myself in danger.”

“Then you must remain and, as Miss Mary requested, end your suit,” Darcy concluded.

Bingley stared at his hands again, clearly miserable.

He raised his face, a smile breaking through. “No. I will go to Collins and swear not to purchase Netherfield Park. You said yourself that his pursuit of Miss Bennet stems from a fear that I will take the estate. I will remove that fear. He will return to ignoring his cousins and I will be free to court Miss Bennet.”

“What of chivalry and the local populace?” Hurst asked.

A wave of Bingley’s hand brushed that aside. “We will come up with a solution. In the meantime, I will be free to renew my suit.”

Taking in the joy on Bingley’s face, Darcy hated to say what he must. “And if she has been amenable simply out of hope that you will take the estate and remove Mr. Collins as magistrate? What then?”

“She will not know of his oath to Collins,” Hurst pointed out.

Bingley swallowed, his happiness dimming into determination. “She will know because I will tell her. In truth, it will solve another quandary, the impetus of her apparent affection.”

“That is your chosen course?” Darcy asked.

Bingley nodded. “It is.”

Something uncoiled in Darcy’s chest. The desire not to depart, he realized. Not yet. He hadn’t learned enough about Miss Elizabeth. Hadn’t spent enough time with her.

Had not learned if she truly was the half-sister of a future earl. Because if she was, if he dared to permit thoughts on that possibility, then Miss Elizabeth Bennet was not a simple country miss with relations in trade. She was a worthy candidate for mistress of Pemberley.

And if she was not an earl’s relation…would that truly make her so unsuitable?

Bingley came to his feet, startling Darcy from his thoughts and saying, “I am off to Meryton.”

“Now?” Hurst asked.

Bingley gestured to the mantel clock. “It is the hour for making calls. The sooner I speak with Collins, the sooner I can renew my attentions.”

Darcy rose. “I will accompany you, if I may?”

Bingley nodded and turned to Hurst.

He shook his head, though he rose as well. “Somehow, I do not find the company of the Bennet sisters as fascinating as the two of you seem to.” He aimed a knowing look at Darcy.

Ignoring that, Darcy excused himself to retrieve his hat and coat, leaving Bingley to send for their mounts.

Bingley set a quick pace along the wide country lane that led from Netherfield Park into Meryton, and Darcy did not mind. Caught up in his friend’s enthusiasm, he permitted his own to grow. They would soon be done with secrecy and machinations. They would be free to call on the Bennet sisters as much as they liked. He would come to know Miss Elizabeth better, to understand if she might be worthy of bearing the Darcy name.

Paying a lad at the inn to keep their mounts waiting, they crossed the street and entered the garish antechamber that Darcy had hoped never to again see. Ignoring Mr. Collins’ horrendous taste in décor, they strode across the room to where Robert Collins sat behind his desk.

Regarding them with considerable worry, he blurted, “He is not here.”

Bingley looked about, as if he could refute those words. “Not here? Will he be long?”

Robert looked about as well, his jerky, nervous movements sending stabs of alarm through Darcy. The younger Mr. Collins leaned across his desk. In a low voice, though they appeared to be alone, he said, “He received a letter from Mr. Parkland. It said that you were attempting to purchase Netherfield Park and that he had set a ridiculous sum, but that if you agreed to it, he would accept. My brother flew into a rage and left.” Robert swallowed convulsively.

Dread pooling in his gut, Darcy asked, “Left and went where?”

The younger man winced. “T-to Dovemark. To, he said, to make Miss Bennet his.”

Bingley was across the room and out the door so fast that Darcy stood for a moment, startled at the other man’s speed.

“Do not worry, I am certain Miss Bennet will refu—”

Rallying, Darcy raced after his friend, Robert Collins’ words breaking off behind him.

Bingley beat him to horse but, despite the fiendish pace his friend set, Darcy caught up to him on the roadway. Together, they galloped up the drive, not dismounting until they reached the front steps.

The door flew open to reveal the startled looking butler. As a footman hurried down the steps to collect their mounts, Bingley bounded up, Darcy on his heels.

“Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy,” the butler exclaimed. “Is something amiss?”

“Where is Miss Bennet?” Bingley demanded.

“Ah, sir, that is not for me to say. If you would care for me to escort you to Mrs. Oakwood, I—”

“Is Mr. Collins here?” Darcy cut in.

“Mr. Collins?” The butler shook his head, confusion clear on his face. “The magistrate?”

“The same. ”

“Not that I am aware of, Mr. Darcy. If you have urgent need of him, may I suggest his office in Meryton?”

“He’s around back,” the footman said from where he now held the reins of both mounts. “Sarah saw him go around back a bit ago, and she told Cook, in case tea will be needed, and Cook tol—”

Bingley didn’t wait to hear who the cook told, nor did Darcy. They were off running, circumnavigating a house that was, as Darcy had suspected, larger than the facade suggested. As they ran, memory of Miss Mary’s mention of a spy came to him and Darcy realized that Collins knew precisely where to find Miss Bennet, and when she was most likely to be in the garden, virtually alone.

Vulnerable.

As they drew near the walled garden, Miss Elizabeth’s voice reached them, saying, “…your hand off my sister, sir.”

“I think not,” Mr. Collins’ voice sneered. “She has much too strong a right hook. I learned my lesson last time.”

“Apparently you did not.”

That was Miss Mary, Darcy realized, her voice distorted by anger.

“What do you plan to do with that?” Mr. Collins cried.

“Elizabeth, do not.” Miss Bennet sounded strained but not alarmed.

“You see? Your sister does not want you to protect her from me.”

Bingley burst into the garden, Darcy a step behind, to the sight of the backs of Mr. Collins and Miss Bennet, his hand clasped about her right arm, squeezing. Before them stood Miss Elizabeth and Miss Mary, the former brandishing a knife.

“I do not want her to harm you because you are such a petty, vindictive excuse for a man that if she so much as knicks you with that blade, I am certain you will see her hang,” Miss Bennet snapped, her words dripping scorn.

“That is no way to speak of the man who will soon be your master in every way.” Collins yanked Miss Bennet’s arm, pulling her against him.

From nowhere Darcy could see, a knife appeared in Miss Mary’s hand as well.

“Unhand her,” Bingley yelled, barreling forward.

Collins whirled, releasing Miss Bennet. He sneered. “And just what do you think—”

Lowering his head, Bingley collided with Collins.

Miss Elizabeth and Miss Mary leaped out of the way, holding no knives that Darcy could see, causing him to question his earlier impression. Miss Elizabeth caught Miss Bennet, pulling her away as Bingley and Collins crashed to the ground.

Darcy dived for Bingley, yanking him up even as he raised his fist to deliver a blow, trying to prevent his friend from going too far. If Collins challenged Bingley—

“What the devil?” Collins roared. He struggled to his feet, his face red except where yellow-stained teeth formed the slash of a snarl. His piggish eyes narrowed to gleaming slits. “How dare you? I will see you on the field of honor, sir.”

Miss Bennet gasped, pulling free of her sister. “No. I forbid it.”

Uncertainty overtaking anger on his face, Bingley turned to her, shrugging free of Darcy’s grip.

“You will let a woman dictate to you?” Collins sneered. “I challenged you, Bingley. Meet me or be branded a coward.”

“Dueling is against the law, as you well know,” Darcy snapped.

“I believe I can convince the local magistrate to look the other way,” Collins cast back, smug.

Miss Bennet stepped forward, nearer to Bingley. “Please do not duel him. No harm was done to me or to my honor.”

Bingley shook his head. “He is a fiend and a cad.”

“I am begging you not to.” For all their softness, her words held intensity.

“Cowering behind a woman, Bingley?” Mr. Collins taunted. “And she is a woman. I should know. I have seen all of her. Every. Little. Inch.”

Bingley surged forward, but Collins dodged back, stumbling into a flower bed. He tripped and caught himself on a tree, but the vile grin didn’t leave his face.

“I accept,” Bingley cried.

Miss Bennet, her face white, rushed up to him again. “He is lying. My honor has never been stained, and a duel has already been fought to prove his words untrue.”

Bingley looked down at her, confused.

“Let us all take a moment to seek cooler heads,” Darcy said firmly.

“Bingley already accepted.” Mr. Collins sounded so smug, it was all Darcy could do not to strike him and evoke a second challenge. “He must meet me or be branded a coward, and give my fair cousin into my care.”

Miss Bennet whirled to face him. Behind her, Miss Elizabeth and Miss Mary both moved forward, more menacing than Darcy would have thought two young misses could be. Miss Bennet held up a staying hand to them just as Darcy clamped one of his own on Bingley’s shoulder. Attacking Collins again would only make matters worse.

Miss Bennet looked her cousin up and down, disdain pinching her features. “I will never wed you, under any circumstances. Better I die in shame, unmarried, than ever consent to your touch.”

“And your sisters? How will they fare with the stain on your honor?” Collins asked, smirking.

“We will bear up perfectly well, thank you,” Miss Elizabeth snapped.

Beside her, Miss Mary nodded.

“It matters not.” Collins pushed away from the tree, then straightened his coat. “Mr. Bingley accepted. He will meet his fate on the field of honor.” With slow, deliberate torment, he added, “Just as your father did.”

Miss Bennet drew in a sharp breath, almost a sob. She whirled to face Bingley. “Do not do this.”

“I must,” Bingley said wretchedly. “I did accept. I am honor bound.”

Desperation and fear shone in her eyes. “If you duel with him, I will not marry you either. Ever. You have nothing to win by going through with this.”

Bingley stared at her, miserable.

“But he has his honor to lose,” Collins called from where he still stood in the turned soil of the bed.

Miss Elizabeth turned to him. In a voice like ice, she said, “Leave.”

He stared at her.

“Now.” She raised an arm and pointed.

A shudder went through Collins. He tugged on his coat again in an obvious attempt to hide the involuntary motion, and plastered on an oily smile. “I have accomplished all I came here to do. My second will meet you soon, sir.” Turning, grinding a heel into the dormant flower bed, he clomped off across the garden in the direction of the stable.

With a gesture to Miss Mary to remain, Miss Elizabeth set out after her cousin on silent feet.

Releasing Bingley’s shoulder, Darcy followed. He didn’t know how far she meant to follow Collins, but he would not trust the man alone with her.

Darcy needn’t have worried, for she did not leave the garden, merely stood in the arched stone doorway and watched while Collins retrieved his horse. Darcy stood beside her, their shoulders not touching. Once Collins had hauled himself into the saddle and departed, Miss Elizabeth turned to him.

“You must dissuade Mr. Bingley from dueling.”

Darcy shook his head. “I am not certain I can.”

“If Mr. Bingley comes to harm on her behalf, it will destroy my sister. ”

They both looked down the walled garden to where Miss Bennet stood before Bingley, speaking with a passion much in evidence despite their inability to overhear her low words.

“There is little to be done now except to hope that Mr. Collins will retract his challenge,” Darcy observed. If Bingley went to him with his promise never to purchase Netherfield Park, would that put an end to this? After all, Collins could not be certain he would win. He evidenced no athleticism.

“I do not believe my cousin will be dissuaded,” Miss Elizabeth murmured. “His father was not, and from what I recall, they are very similar.”

“Then he and Bingley will duel.” Taking in the look of stubborn determination on his friend’s face, recalling the insult Collins had flung at Miss Bennet, Darcy doubted anything could dissuade Bingley now. “I am afraid it is a point of honor.”

Miss Elizabeth shook her head, her face full of worry.

Darcy could only second the sentiment. Miss Elizabeth took a step, as if she would return to the others, but Darcy halted her with, “You had a knife. I saw both you and Miss Mary with knives in hand.”

Miss Elizabeth went completely still for a heartbeat, then turned back to him, her expression bland. “We often have knives with us in the garden.”

“In the garden?” He repeated, baffled. They had not looked like tools. Nor had either miss held them as one would a gardening tool.

“Yes. I am certain if you ask your gardener, he will agree that knives can be very useful.” With that, she pivoted away again, unhurried strides taking her back down the path.

Darcy stared after her. He wasn’t entirely certain what he’d witnessed upon entering the garden, but he was sure that something strange had been about to happen. The question was what?