Chapter Eight

Edmund

E dmund woke exceptionally early the next day and leapt out of bed. What an adventure they had all had yesterday! He looked out of his window. Would he see Marianne walking Nelson on the lawn, perchance with Lady Barrington? If so, he would dress quickly and hurry down to join them. But no! ’Twas still dark and there was no one around.

At least we do not have to worry about Lord Steyne anymore. In point of fact, we know we need not have worried about him for some time, ever since he became Mr. Teysen.

Edmund wondered what would happen to the man now he had been returned to prison, for when he had escaped last summer, he had been awaiting trial for threatening behavior.

That will be up to the courts, but whatever his sentence is, I do not believe it will be long, for whether he is Lord Steyne or Mr. Teysen, he has wealth.

“Ah! You are up, sir.” Voyle was at the door. “I thought I heard movement from your room.”

Voyle must have the ears of a bat.

“Why are you up and dressed at this hour, Voyle?”

“I always rise at this time. Those in the kitchen rise even earlier.”

“What? You mean Cook and all the others? Every day?”

“Of course, sir.” Voyle seemed a trifle impatient. “How else do you think...?” He stopped abruptly and looked down. Perchance he felt he was being too bold?

“Pray continue,” Edmund said. “I will take no offense.”

“Well, I was only going to say that by the time the family rises, fires are already burning in the grates, are they not? Rolls and pastries have been baked, and coffee has been ground.”

Now Edmund understood. The vast machinery of the house sprang into action long before he and his parents arose.

Voyle smiled. “I will bring you some hot water, sir– and will be back directly.”

Edmund felt a little ashamed that he had never quite appreciated the strange hours the servants needed to keep. And yet he had sometimes been aware of slight sounds on the stairs and muffled voices in the distance in the early morning.

I should have pieced all together, should I not?

There were other things he should have worked out, too; he should have anticipated how he would grow to feel about Marianne long before he made his stupid vow about not wanting to marry for years and years, if ever.

I wonder what she is doing now.

Edmund lay down on the bed again.

She must still be asleep, for she endured such a long day yesterday with the carriage ride from Bristol followed by dramas of every variety.

He closed his eyes and imagined Marianne lying beside him in his bed, her red hair spread out across the pillows like the rays of a brilliant sun somewhere hot. Egypt, perchance?

Edmund stretched out his hand and imagined touching the soft white muslin of her nightdress– then he turned onto his side and whispered in her ear, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Then he ran his hand over the contours of her body, lowered his face to hers and trailed kisses down her sweet neck. Dare he undo the ties of her robe?

“Is anything the matter, sir? If you are tired, I can come back later. ”

Damnation! For there was Voyle standing before him.

“No, no, I am not tired. Please leave the water there, Voyle. I will wash myself this morning. You may go.”

“But sir, should I come back to help you dress? Your cravat can be tricky.”

“I will deal with it myself!”

Dawn was breaking by the time Edmund was fully dressed. The dratted cravat had taken longer to tie than he had thought. He had never paid much attention to how many times Voyle usually wrapped the cloth around his neck, and at first attempt the whole thing just lay in a puddle of crushed linen about his collarbone. The second attempt was not much better, for he felt he was being slowly strangled, such was the tightness of the knot.

The third attempt was more comfortable– although when Edmund looked in the mirror, he had to admit that the effect was not of his usual sartorial elegance. ’Twas more reminiscent of a child’s first attempt to dress themselves.

Ah! But I cannot wait to see Marianne.

Edmund sent a silent prayer heavenwards. How he hoped that the dramatic episode when he had chased Mr. Teysen along the roof yesterday would have finally driven from Marianne’s mind her unjustified hatred of him.

In truth, there were times last night at Lady Barrington’s when I felt her looking at me with a great deal of tenderness; she thanked me many times for making such a brave attempt to keep her from harm. Admittedly, she included Carter in these thanks as well, but I like to think she addressed me particularly fervently.

Edmund hummed to himself as he ran his fingers through his hair, attempting the artfully tousled look that Voyle was expert in creating.

I will use the lemon pomade, for just as the potion holds my hair in place, maybe ’twill help to secure Marianne’s affections. Lord! I wonder if that is too much?

Now, what could Edmund do to pass the time until it would be proper to call at Number 4? He stood in the corridor outside his chamber. The house was extraordinarily quiet, and ’twas evident that his parents were still abed.

I had such a good time helping Cook measure the sugar yesterday. Perchance I might help with the preparation of food again this morning? I am sure the kitchen staff would be glad of an extra pair of hands.

Edmund skipped down the stairs, not quite full of the joys of spring, for ’twas only February, but certainly with the sort of bounce in his step that he had not felt for a long time.

Would today perhaps be the day that he might finally be able to untangle his perplexing feelings for Marianne? He already recognized the friendship that lay within his heart, but there was a transformation in progress. Friendship was rapidly moving towards another feeling.

Edmund hesitated in the hall. Was it quite proper that he should use the servants’ staircase and descend to their quarters? If the servants wandered up through the main house at will, would they not be rebuked and reminded of their place?

And yet, Voyle comes into my room at the most inappropriate times. I have no privacy.

Edmund decided his intrusion below stairs would be acceptable if he was discreet. Creeping down, he heard the back door opening, whereupon he concealed himself in a shadowy alcove till he could ascertain who had entered.

“Ah, Jane! ’Tis you,” a voice said.

“Dearest Martha,” Jane said. “I know I said I would come round later, but sometimes news cannot wait.”

I have caught them in the act! I am witness to the secret channel of communication that goes backwards and forwards between Number 1 and Number 4.

“Come and sit down in the kitchen,” Martha said to her sister. “There is a pot of tea on the table, and you can rest your feet and tell us all your news.”

Edmund was very disappointed to hear this– for he could scarce follow the maids and sit listening openly with the other servants.

“No, not today,” Jane said. “What I have to say is for your ears only.”

Thank the Lord! Oh! I cannot wait to hear what gossip Jane has brought with her from Lady B’s house.

“Well, be quick,” Martha said, “for the others will be wondering where I have gone.”

“Wait! Can you smell lemons?” Jane said.

Edmund smoothed his hair down and pressed himself further back into the recess.

“Maybe,” Martha said. “Cook must be cutting up fruit. But tell me– what is your news?”

“’Tis to do with a letter,” Jane said.

“A letter?”

“Yes, Mrs. Pembroke was writing a letter very late last night in her chamber.”

Was she writing to me?

“I went in to ask if she needed help undressing,” Jane said, “but she said there was nothing I could do for her, and then it was I noticed a tear in her eye.”

“Oh no,” Martha said. “As if she has not suffered enough.”

I agree wholeheartedly with that sentiment.

“Exactly,” Jane said, “so I stayed with her a while. I even put my arm on her shoulder, and she did not seem to mind.”

How I wish I had been the one to comfort her.

“And then she told me that she was intending to start again, to make a new life for herself.”

This sounds promising.

“What does she want to do?” Martha said.

“She intends to become a governess,” Jane said. “She has written to her friend Charlotte to ask for help finding a suitable family in the Lake District.”

What ?

“Oh dear,” Martha said. “She will not like being a governess.”

“No! And I told her how lonely she would be, for the governess is neither above stairs nor below.”

“But why would she want to do that, when she could marry any of the eligible young men in Bath? There are many would be pleased to ask her.”

She could marry me!

“That is what I told her,” Jane said, “but she said she did not wish to marry.”

“There has been talk,” Martha said, “of how she might marry Mr. Templeton.”

Both the maids started giggling. Whether ’twas the thought of marriage itself, or the thought of Marianne marrying Edmund, ’twould be hard to say.

Then Cook’s voice was heard. “Martha! What are you doing out there? ’Tis nearly time for you to take tea to Lady Templeton.”

“Coming,” Martha said.

“I can see how busy you are,” Jane said, “but I was bursting to tell you this news. I will come by again later and we will talk some more and have that cup of tea you promised.”

“I look forward to it. And bring some news you can share, for you know everyone here lives for your daily account of the goings on at Number 4.”

If I ever have my own household, I will make quite sure that I only employ maids who are not sisters of Jane or Martha– and, moreover, are preferably mute.

Edmund waited till Jane had left and Martha had gone upstairs with his mama’s tea, then he entered the kitchen.

“Good morning, Cook. How are you?”

“Good morning, Mr. Templeton. How might I help you this morning?”

“I wondered if I might help you,” Edmund said. “I so enjoyed coming to the kitchen yesterday with Carter. Perchance you and I could make some scones, as we used to years ago.”

Cook seemed rather flustered today, and not quite as friendly as she had been the day before.

“’Tis not right that you are down here, Mr. Templeton, especially when we are rushed off our... er, I mean, you are a gentleman and belong upstairs.”

What a mistake I have made! She had been about to say, “especially when we are rushed off our feet.” Who do I think I am? I am making Cook’s already busy life much more difficult, merely to indulge my childish desire to play at cooking .

“My mistake, Cook. I apologize.” Edmund backed out of the kitchen.

“No, wait,” Cook said. “Mr. Templeton, pray forgive me if you think I am speaking out of turn– after all, I have known you since you were a tiny babe– but I can see that something is troubling you today.”

“There is nothing amiss,” Edmund said. “In fact, I am on my way to the city to take the air.”

“This early?”

“I believe I must.”

“But you have not yet had your breakfast. Here, take this with you.”

Cook bundled together a few pastries and some cuts of meat left over from last night, and tied them up in a napkin.

“These are for you, sir. You enjoy these tidbits and maybe have a good walk to clear your head.”

Edmund nodded his thanks; he did not trust himself to speak.

I have tidbits now from Cook. I am treated as Nelson is. And yet that is unfair, for Cook is a kind woman; she senses something is wrong and is offering her support in the way she used to when I was a child– by feeding me.

Edmund went up onto the street and then ran along Brock Street and through The Circus, running and running as fast as he could until he reached the very center of the city, the mighty Abbey. There he sat on a bench and wolfed down Cook’s tidbits.

My Marianne intends to leave Bath! And I feel as if my heart is breaking in two.

*

Marianne

“Marianne! The carriage will be ready to take us to Laura Place soon.”

“Thank you, Aunt. I am all but ready. I just need a minute in my chamber.”

Marianne ran up the stairs. She and Lady Barrington were due at the Wyndhams’ house this morning to pay a call. She still felt a little tired after all the excitement and drama with Mr. Teysen yesterday, but knew she would particularly enjoy the visit.

But first I need to re-read Frederick’s letter– the one he sent me in Clifton.

Opening the top drawer of her chest of drawers, she looked briefly at the two leather pouches containing the miniatures– her past– but her heart maintained a steady, sensible rhythm. Then she picked out Frederick’s letter from a neat pile.

I do not mind admitting that at first I was extremely surprised to receive this letter from Frederick, for he has never written to me before.

Her eyes ran over the letter once more.

My dear Marianne,

I trust this finds you well.

Please forgive my boldness in writing to you, but there is something I must address urgently. I know that my sister Charlotte has mentioned a certain possibility to you, in short, that she thinks we would be a good match.

Marianne felt amused as she remembered the absolute consternation these opening words had caused in her heart when first she had read them– but her anxiety had soon been set aside, for the letter continued thus:

This has led me to write to you, for although I love you as a brother loves a sister, I want there to be no misunderstanding– for my heart is engaged elsewhere. I have recently met a young lady that I feel could well be the person I wish to spend the rest of my life with. I intend to ask her to be my bride, and if she accepts, we will be married before I return to my post.

My dear Marianne, forgive me if I have ever given the impression that what I felt for you was any more than fraternal love. Perhaps my sister Charlotte, in her eagerness to see us both married, has tried to push us together, thinking us well suited? How I hope this is the explanation for this predicament, for I would not wish to be the cause of further heartbreak for you.

When we next meet again, I hope to be assured that I have not offended you by explaining my feelings in this way.

Yours affectionately,

Frederick

As soon as she had received the letter in Clifton, Marianne had written back to Frederick saying that she had never thought of him as a future husband, but as a very dear friend who had helped her when she was in despair; she wished him every happiness with the young lady who had been fortunate enough to win his heart.

And now I am to find my happiness as a governess– pray God this is the right choice.

Marianne was looking forward to seeing Captain Wyndham again this morning.

For we will be able to laugh at the misunderstanding that Charlotte’s match making has provoked– and I hope to hear that he is now engaged to the lady he truly loves.

“Marianne! The carriage!” Lady Barrington’s voice could be clearly heard even though the chamber door was closed .

“Coming, Aunt.”

As Marianne, Lady Barrington, and Nelson traveled through the streets, they saw invalids in sedan chairs on their way to the Mineral Water Hospital. Lady Barrington winced and clutched her back.

“I must book treatments soon, for I am a martyr to my lumbago.”

Marianne made sympathetic noises, and Nelson gave a wheezy sigh. Then they spotted Edmund lounging on a street corner.

“He is looking a little disheveled this morning,” Lady Barrington said.

And he is pulling at his cravat in the strangest way. Oh! Now ’tis unraveling, and he is trying to re-tie it.

Marianne waved to Edmund, and he waved back– but with such a sorrowful look.

He must be worn out after his rooftop escapade– unless something else is amiss?

Very soon they reached Laura Place and entered the Wyndhams’ home. Marianne looked around her in wonder. She had not been there since she had been in the throes of her bereavement.

Now I find I can look back upon the terrible time after Richard’s death without fear; for a new chapter as a governess is about to unfold, far away from Bath. This is what I long for with heart and soul. Is it not?

At first the conversation was general; the weather, the state of the streets, and whether the river would flood again that year. But ere long, there was a chance for Marianne and Frederick to talk privately.

“How happy I was,” Frederick said, “to receive your letter from Clifton and know that I had not offended you.”

“Dear Frederick, you could never offend me, and I am so glad you wrote, for ’tis important to clear up misunderstandings before they become too big to deal with.”

I blush to say this, for the whole of my stay in Bath so far seems to have been nothing but a series of misunderstandings which I have strived quite desperately– and unsuccessfully– to negotiate.

“And might I ask,” Marianne said, “what the young lady said? ”

Frederick’s eyes twinkled and he smiled most engagingly. “She said yes! Both sets of parents are delighted, the engagement will be in the paper soon, and a special license has been obtained. We will be married in London before I return to my regiment.”

“Warmest congratulations!” Marianne glanced over her shoulder “Ah! I do believe your parents are conveying the same news to Lady Barrington as we speak.”

“Is it not wonderful, Marianne?” Lady Barrington said. “Captain Wyndham is engaged to be married. Ah! I feel spring is coming. There is love in the air.” Then she winked at Marianne.

How my aunt never loses a chance to remind me that she has set her heart on my marriage. Well, she is going to be sadly disappointed. I do hope Charlotte replies to me soon.

“Do we both agree,” Frederick asked, “that my sister Charlotte tried to interfere a little between us?”

“We do! For she told me you were very fond of me and often asked after my health.”

“And she told me,” Frederick said, “that she suspected you nursed secret romantic feelings for me.”

“Marianne! What are you two laughing about? I must know!” Lady Barrington said.

“’Twas just something amusing that Charlotte said in her letters, Aunt,” Marianne replied.

Then she turned back to Frederick. “Thank God the country is no longer at war and you and your new wife will be able to enjoy much time together.”

“Thank you,” Frederick said. “That is exceedingly generous of you to say that, my dear.” He coughed. “Under the circumstances.”

“Do not worry that I am about to dissolve into tears. That time has passed. In point of fact, I wrote to Charlotte last night about my future plans.”

“And what are they, pray?”

“I intend to become a governess. ”

Frederick’s smile drooped a little. “Is this what you want?”

“It is.”

“I would hate to feel that you are being pushed into this because of your circumstances. If there is ever anything I can do to assist you, please do not hesitate to ask.”

“I admit that it is a necessary and prudent path for me, financially speaking,” Marianne said, “but that does not mean I will not find fulfilment in the vocation of teaching.”

Does it?

“I wish you well, then,” Frederick said, “but you must know there are many eligible men who would regard it as an honor were you to accept their proposals.”

“Please do not make the mistake Charlotte made and try to steer my life. I must be allowed to decide my own destiny.”

“I apologize. But might I at least caution you not to make any sudden decision? There is no terrible rush, is there?”

“I am resolved to leave Bath as soon as I can,” Marianne said.

How can I explain to Frederick that I am in love with Edmund but that he has resolved to embrace the single life as long as he can? I will not stay in this city and chance seeing him again– for how could I bear it? He is the only man alive I wish to be joined with, and if I cannot have him, then I will turn my back on the whole business of matrimony and family.

*

Edmund

I wonder how long Marianne is going to spend visiting this house? How I long to see her beauteous face again– and attempt to dissuade her from becoming a governess. Perchance if I stand here awhile, I can address her as she exits and ask if she might like to stroll round the city with me– we might visit the Pump Room again. I must be patient.

Edmund was standing in Laura Place opposite a row of golden Bath stone town houses. It had been quite an effort to track Lady Barrington’s carriage, especially when he was both exhausted and despondent, yet he had managed to keep it within sight.

Suddenly, his attention was caught by faces at an upper window. ’Twas Marianne! How darling she looked. Next to her was Lady Barrington, cradling Nelson. And then there was someone rather less welcome.

No! ’Tis Captain Windbag! This must be his family home. Why in God’s name would Marianne want to visit him?

Edmund shivered. He was feeling hungry, too, for Cook’s tidbits seemed a long time ago. Just then, he saw a couple of army officers swaggering along the pavement.

“Do we not know you?” one of them said.

“Yes,” said the other. “You attended the same concert as we did, back in January.”

“And you were in the Labyrinth at Sydney Gardens,” the first said with a rather unpleasant laugh.

“Yes,” the second said, “until you disappeared!”

How mortifying that they remember my humiliation– when I had mistakenly thought one of them was Captain Windbag.

Edmund looked into their smug faces then shrugged his shoulders. “I do not recollect meeting you.”

“Suit yourself,” the first one said.

“I shall,” Edmund replied.

And then, maybe because he was cold, or maybe because he was still reeling from the shock of finding out that Marianne was visiting Captain Windbag, Edmund followed the officers along Great Pulteney Street.

“In actual fact, I do remember you,” he said as he caught up with them.

“I thought you did,” the first man said. “I am Captain Hasket, and this is my friend Captain Hardy.”

“Edmund Templeton, at your service. ”

“Templeton, eh? A name well known in Bath,” Captain Hasket said. “Your father is a very rich man.”

“You live up in the Royal Crescent, do you not?” Captain Hardy said.

“Guilty as charged,” Edmund said. “And where might you be staying?”

I will be friendly towards these two– and hope to find out more about Captain Windbag, for I do not fully trust the man, nor his intentions towards Marianne.

“Our lodgings are in the lower part of the city,” Captain Hasket said. “We are here for the season, to see what sport there is before we must rejoin our regiment.”

“There are plenty of card games in the Upper Rooms,” Edmund said. “And dice as well. But if you want to place a wager on some races, I can give you advice, for I know where the best horses are bred.”

“That is not the only sport we are looking for,” Captain Hasket said.

“Yes! We seek the fairer sex,” Captain Hardy said.

The two men laughed– in a most disagreeable way.

Women are not sport! These men are dangerous: I must warn Marianne.

“I have met another from your regiment,” Edmund said. “Captain Wyndham.”

“Oh, yes,” Captain Hasket said. “I saw you talking to him at the concert.”

I was listening to him, not conversing– I was scarcely allowed to utter a single word.

“I believe there is a rumor flying around that he is recently engaged,” Captain Hardy said, “but I cannot vouch for its veracity.”

Engaged? Surely he cannot be engaged to my Marianne?

Edmund’s heart beat wildly, until he remembered that Marianne was intending to leave Bath at her earliest convenience and become a governess. This is no way indicated that she had recently given her heart away.

“To whom is Captain Windbag engaged?” Edmund said.

“Captain Windbag?” Hasket frowned deeply. “Be careful what you say, sir. You go too far. Captain Wyndham is a distinguished officer.”

“Even if he is indeed intoxicated with the exuberance of his own verbosity,” Captain Hardy sniggered.

“I ask you to withdraw your comments, Mr. Templeton, for I am not as forgiving as my friend Hardy here.” Captain Hasket stood to attention. “Otherwise, I will be forced to challenge you to a duel. ’Twill be pistols– or perchance swords– at dawn. Verily, I will hesitate no longer. We will fight! Consider yourself well and truly challenged.”

Edmund felt sick to the pit of his stomach. What in God’s name had he provoked with his ill-judged jibe?

Hasket affected a pugilistic pose, with fists clenched, legs braced and nostrils flared most unattractively– before bellowing with raucous mirth for a full ten seconds. Then he punched Edmund lightly on his shoulder. “Mr. Templeton– your face! ’Tis quite the picture of terror.”

“Yes, dearie me,” Hardy said. “I think I might split my sides with laughing.”

“You must know,” Hasket said, “that I would never challenge you to a duel.”

“You did not mean it?” Edmund said. “Thank the Lord! I suppose ’twould not be wise, for you could be in trouble with your regiment.”

“That would only be if they found out,” Hasket said. “But that is not the real reason I would not challenge you.”

“What is?”

“You are but a namby-pamby weakling.”

“Indeed,” Hardy said, “Hasket would make mincemeat of you.”

“Remember,” Hasket said, “that we have been trained in the use of firearms. I do not believe you have.”

“I have not; that has been beyond the scope of my education,” Edmund said, “but it does not mean I am not brave and would not fight for a just cause.”

Hardy gave a pitying smile. “Brave men die every day from lack of training.”

“Yes,” Hasket said, “and if you think I would fight to the death merely because someone called my friend windbag , then you are even more of a muttonhead than you look.”

By now the men had reached Sydney Gardens. Edmund did not much like these two characters, nor did he appreciate being the butt of their jokes– but he decided he would be wise to refrain from replying to Hasket’s last comment, for whatever he said could lead to more unwelcome jests. Or possibly something far worse.

Edmund also decided ’twas time to part from the two captains– for now– but he would instead follow them at a discreet distance, hoping to overhear further revelations about Captain Windbag. For Edmund was still not entirely convinced that the loquacious Captain Wyndham did not have designs upon the fair Marianne.

The two officers walked ahead into the Labyrinth, still snorting with laughter, and Edmund hung back for a few minutes. ’Twould not do for them to realize he was following them– but ’twas relatively easy to work out which way they went, such was the volume of their conversation.

They must have developed these excessively loud voices by shouting commands on distant battlefields.

After a decent interval, Edmund crept into the Labyrinth, taking care to stay concealed. It was a while before he managed to locate a convenient hedge behind which to listen to their inane conversation in more detail.

“Should we tell Wyndham about this fellow who is so rude?” Hardy said.

“’Tis not worth spending another second on that bonehead,” Hasket replied.

“Fair enough. And if truth be told, ’twas quite funny to call Wyndham windbag, was it not?”

“It certainly was! I must say I felt jealous of Wyndham at the concert, though, talking to that shapely redhead. What was her name?”

“Mrs. Pembroke,” Hardy said. “A widow, I do believe.”

Hasket gave a disrespectful cackle. “She is a very tasty morsel. Ah! What I would not give to have a woman like that in my bed.”

Edmund let out a scream of rage.

“What was that?” Hardy said.

“I have no idea,” Hasket replied. “Maybe ’tis someone who is as lost as we are in the Labyrinth. It can be mighty frustrating wandering around here. Do you think this path is the way to the center?”

Edmund ran on to where he knew there was a shady section of the hedge with sparse branches. As boys, he and Henry used to leap through this shortcut sometimes if they were having trouble negotiating the maze. And if Edmund wanted to, he could squeeze through there right now, confront these damnable fellows, and reprimand them for the disgusting way they were talking about his beloved.

Edmund leaped into the hedge enthusiastically– before he remembered that when he and Henry used to do this in years past, they were both much smaller. And so, perhaps, were the plants.

This is scratchier and more constraining than I could ever have imagined.

With some wriggling and pulling– and a deep laceration to the sleeve of his jacket– Edmund managed to struggle through until he stood in front of the astonished officers.

“You!” Hasket said.

“Hell’s teeth!” Hardy’s eyes were near popping out of his head.

Hasket regarded Edmund closely. “What have you done to yourself, man? And why are you here?”

“Are you following us?” Hardy said. “Do not think we have forgotten your strange behavior the last time we encountered you in the maze.”

“How dare you disrespect Marianne? I mean, Mrs. Pembroke,” Edmund shouted. “You are loathsome!”

“Marianne, is it?” Hasket sneered. “First name terms, eh?”

“I challenge you,” Edmund said.

“You challenge me?” Hasket laughed. “What on earth could you challenge me to?”

“I will fight you!” Edmund held up his fists.

“A fist fight is not what decent gentlemen do,” Hardy said. “That is definitely for the lower orders.”

“You are not decent gentlemen,” Edmund said. “If you were, you would not speak of Mrs. Pembroke– or any woman– in that way.”

“Look here, Templeton,” Hasket said, “you are seriously beginning to annoy me.”

He walked towards Edmund and pushed him to the ground.

Edmund leaped to his feet. “If you will not indulge in a fist fight with me, I have only one option.”

“You have no options,” Hasket said. “Be away with you before I really lose my temper and run you through with my sword.”

“I challenge you to a duel,” Edmund said.

“Do not be ridiculous!” Hardy said. “Captain Hasket is trained to fight; you could not win against him.”

“We shall see!” Edmund said, catching Hasket unawares and flinging him against the prickliest part of the hedge, then kicking him in the shins for good measure and boxing his ears. “You will withdraw your comments about Mrs. Pembroke, sir– or I will have satisfaction– at dawn, tomorrow.”

Hasket then went for Edmund with a roar.

“Let go of my throat,” Edmund croaked.

“I accept your challenge, you measly worm!” Hasket yelled. “Hardy will be my second. And dawn tomorrow it is– on the far western area above the Crescent Fields, for there will be no one around at that time.”

“Do not be late,” Hardy said as the two soldiers disappeared down a path.

Edmund clutched his neck.

They mean it this time! Oh, what have I done?

The day was going from bad to worse.

Was I supposed to ask him whether ’twas pistols or swords? Should I take both? And where will I get them from? Oh, why could I not have held my tongue?

Edmund grimaced. He was a gentleman and knew he could not have kept silent, for the man had insulted Marianne. And that was unforgivable.

For I know now that I love her, with all my heart, body, and soul.