An Unequalled Affection

Part 5

They had walked miles in near-silence and were his thoughts not already so consumed by the trial that lay before him, Richard might have smiled.

To think this was all it took to render Wickham a silent companion!

He glanced at his friend, noting the way Wickham swallowed a yawn, his eyes fixed blearily on the horizon, and wondered, not for the first time, if this had been his best choice for a second.

Best does not matter. He was my only option! This thought soured him and he ploughed his annoyance into walking at a speed that made Wickham stumble to keep up.

"You need not hurry so," he grumbled. "'Tis not as if Bingley can begin without you."

Richard shot him an irritated look.

"He can call my late arrival cowardice."

"Aye, and that would be worse than wearing a bullet for your troubles." Wickham's response was little more than a whisper, clearly not designed to reach Richard's ears, but reach him it did.

"You speak as if you think Bingley will triumph." He set his jaw, stung that even George Wickham seemed positioned against him. "In which case you and Darcy will have plenty to talk about -"

"Oh, don't become agitated." Wickham smiled, with effort. "I am here, am I not? I have pledged my assistance."

"I did not realise it was so great a burden to you."

"Rising before dawn when one spent the evening drinking? I'll say that is a burden indeed." Wickham laughed, clapping Richard on the back. "It is well I think so highly of you, friend."

Richard winced. Wickham had deployed the word friend in just that manner quite frequently within the last few hours. It was no accident, he was sure, but a sharp reminder that in doing this, Wickham was earning a favour he would one day extract from his friend and superior officer. Richard shook his head. He could not worry about that yet. He would deal with Wickham's plans when they came to fruition. Assuming I survive that long.

Richard refused to believe the dandyish Charles Bingley could ever prove a better rifleman than him and for that reason, he feared little about their coming altercation. But duels were not entirely a matter of skill. He had witnessed enough of them in his time in the military - the fact that they were frowned upon and roundly discouraged did not make them an impossibility - to know that there was a degree of luck to one's performance that could not always be predicted.

In that case, I must be at peace also, he reminded himself. For my cause is the just one. He had proposed to Jane Bennet with an entirely free and easy conscience and if Bingley thought he still had a claim to her affections then he would have another think coming.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam!"

Bingley spotted their approach and hailed them from the centre of the clearing he had named, and Richard swallowed a curse. Yes, it looked as if Bingley and Darcy both had been there quite some time.

"You have not been waiting long, I hope?" he ground out from behind clenched teeth.

"Not long." Bingley shrugged his shoulders and shot Darcy a wicked grin. "Although we did begin to wonder if you had thought better of the errand and decided to stay at the barracks.

"You thought I would choose cowardice?" Coming from anyone other than the coddled Charles Bingley such a suggestion would be an insult. Delivered as it was, by a man who could scarcely bear to button his coat wrong, it was comedy.

"We rather hoped matters might be resolved in some other way than this." It was Darcy who offered this suggestion, looking pleadingly towards Richard. "Might we speak?"

"I believe it is customary for the seconds to share words," Richard remarked, with a gruff nod towards George Wickham. He excused himself to greet the doctor, who was sitting patiently on the upturned stump of a tree, clutching his medical bag and looking as if this was quite the easiest payment he had earned of late.

Darcy sighed, trudging over towards Wickham as if he would rather make conversation with a snake. Richard had a fleeting sense of despair that, had he chosen anyone else to be his second other than his cousin's mortal enemy, the chances of them reasoning a bloodless resolution to this mess was high. With Wickham, who could tell?

The men conducted their discussion in whispers and Richard looked away. If his fate was to be decided by other men, he would at least not watch the decision being made.

I am no coward: if I must face the barrel of a gun then I shall do so without equivocation.

"Very well!" Darcy exclaimed, exasperation and something else - fear? — colouring his words. He fixed a helpless gaze on Richard for half a moment before Charles commanded his attention.

"No resolution?" His voice quavered just a little, fear or excitement, Richard was not sure which. He wore the strange eagerness of a recruit, keen to take a weapon and launch himself onto the battlefield in search of glory. Glory? Richard grimaced. He had seen little enough of that in battle and he was sure to see none now. Had he anything he cared less to lose than Jane Bennet herself, he was certain he would not be here. I have killed and injured enough men in my time, I do not care to be responsible for another -

"Places, then." Wickham's eyes gleamed with interest as he directed the combatants into position.

Richard took one of the two guns Darcy held out and Bingley took another and, taking one last breath, he sent a tiny prayer upwards to the God he was not entirely sure he still believed in, counting out his paces.

One...two...three...

"Wait! Oh, please stop!"

Both men froze, turning not to face each other but to face the sound of the cry, and in a flurry of concern, two young women burst into the clearing. For the slightest moment, Richard's heart was in his throat. It was Jane! And yet - no, it was not Jane. Elizabeth Bennet stood, dragging a white-faced Mary behind her.

"Miss Elizabeth!"

Charles spoke before Richard was afforded the chance to, his voice pitched with the perfect balance of surprise and shame. He swiftly concealed his weapon so that by the time Elizabeth's eyes rested on them only Richard still clutched a gun.

"You cannot possibly think Jane would want this!" Elizabeth implored him, her bright eyes dimming with disappointment. "You must - you must find some other way."