Page 53 of The Scandal of the Deceived Duchess
A Letter of Honor
London, England, September 1814
“Sir, a letter just arrived for you,” said the butler. “I have been told that it is from Sir Thomas Carlyle, 1st Baronet of Windom, Sir,” he added with a bow, extending his arm so that the communication was within Jonathan’s reach.
“Thank you, Chives,” said Jonathan, taking the proffered correspondence presented to him on an ornate silver salver.
He sat reclined on the settee in the drawing room belonging to the London townhouse he rented for the occasion of his stay in England. It was suitably located in the West End. The interior design that was too pastoral was not to his taste, but it would have to do on such short notice.
Pressing his lips together, Jonathan took a moment to study the ornate cream-colored paper that was thick and obviously very costly. There was a seal of red wax on the front. He sighed.How has it come to this? All I wanted to do was talk some sense into the man – I love his daughter; is that so difficult for him to understand? Now I have to fight him. What will happen should I kill him? Will Amelia hate me forever?
“Yegoing to open that?” asked Jake, nipping at a glass of whiskey. He sat opposite him in an elaborate silk-upholstered armchair. “Or just stare at it?” It was his way. Jake was a pragmatic man; he never saw any reason for delaying the inevitable.
Jonathan groaned. “We both know what this is.”
“Sure, we do, but there is no way around it, Jonathan.Yeare just going to have to go through with it, and that is that,” said Jake.
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one who has to fight a duel…and maybe kill the father of the woman you love.” Jonathan ripped upon the seal belonging to the epistle as if it were a hateful enemy and began to unfold it roughly.
“Yeare one of the best shots I have ever seen. Whereveryelook, the musket ball follows. Ye won’t be killing anybody; not ifyedon’t want to that is,” said Jake. He took another sip of his drink. He was as calm as a man strolling in the park. “What’s it say?”
“Here, take a look for yourself,” said Jonathan, handing him the correspondence.
London, September 1814
Dear Sir,
As you are well aware, you have tarnished my honor with regard to your conduct concerning my darling daughter. In such situations, I would usually demand a written apology and be done with it. However, this transgression to my honor, and within the sanctity of my own home no less, is too great, and a situation I cannot countenance to ignore. This is something I am certain you can understand.
You have given me no other option but to demand satisfaction at your earliest possible convenience. As I issue this challenge, the choice of place, time and weapons are at your discretion. However, may I suggest we conduct this duel on my estate in Berkshire to avoid any unnecessary entanglement with the law?
Sir Arthur Cartwright, 4th Baronet of Wycombe, a close friend and confidant of mine, will act as my second.
I expect your response in writing with the nomination of your second, choice of location and weapons by the morrow, latest noon.
I am, Sir, your Obliged and most humble servant
Sir Thomas Carlyle, 1st Baronet of Windom
Jonathan whistled. “It appears that we have a lot of work to do.”
Jonathan arched his eyebrows. “What is there to do? We tell the man that we agree to fight on his estate and our choice of weapons and so forth.”
“I disagree. I think we should send a letter of apology…”
Jonathan got to his feet abruptly. “Apologize to that man…for what? He unashamedly accused me of seducing his daughter and conducting,” Jonathan pleated his brow as he tried to recollect what Sir Thomas had accused him of, “ah, yes, and conducting a clandestine courtship with his daughter. The man is so full of himself that he would even deny his own daughter’s happiness.”
“Areyequite finished?” Jake waited for his friend to calm down a little. “I suggestyepouryerselfa large dram of whiskey from the decanter over there and sit down and listen to what I have to say.” Jake chuckled. “I read this pamphlet on dueling decorum a while back. It was a rather interesting read, I must say.”
“When do you find the time to read, Jake?” asked Jonathan, remaining in his seat.
He laughed again. “On board ship when there’s nothing to do –yeknow during those long waits when the wind is not up. Well anyway, this booklet was written by a group of Irishmen and they called it the ‘Code Duello.’ In other words, it explains all of the rules concerning a duel. Most countries follow them nowadays.” Jake looked at Jonathan seriously. “Yestill haven’t gotyedrink…now, go and get one and I will tellyewhat I learned.”
The air hissed past Jonathan’s lips, making a deep gushing sound. Finally, he went over to the liquor cabinet and did as Jake suggested. He returned to his seat and sat down with a sigh. After he had taken a large swig, he turned to look at his friend, “So, what do you have in mind that might get me out of this miserable situation.” Jonathan drained the whiskey in one gulp, smacking his lips to countenance the burning liquid.
Jake cleared his throat. “It is not so much that I will getyeout ofyerpredicament, but more…how shall I say…how we can soften the blow so to speak.”
“And how do you propose we do that?” Jake was already losing his attention, as Jonathan went to fetch himself another drink. To him the situation was hopeless. He had heard about the famous duel between Aaron Burr and Alexander Hamilton, both prominent American politicians, in the year 1804. It had ended badly with one of the antagonists dead.
