Page 32 of Her Whole Heart
Elizabeth nodded, unwilling to contradict Jane when she was enjoying her call. The truth was, she never felt entirely secure riding sidesaddle. “You may be right.”
Jane nodded, satisfied, and returned to her conversation with Mr. Bingley. They canvassed at least three other breeds of horses before Mr. Bingley noted that he had been with them for more than three quarters of an hour and rose to take his leave.
“Thank you for calling, Mr. Bingley,” Jane said.
“Not at all, I quite enjoyed it,” Mr. Bingley said. “Miss Bennet, would you be interested in attending the theatre with me?”
Jane’s eyes widened. “Yes, of course. I should like that very much.”
“Excellent,” Mr. Bingley said. “I shall send a note, and we shall find a time that is convenient for all of you.”
Elizabeth thought Jane must like Mr. Bingley very much not to mention that she would have to speak with Lady Carlisle. It was a good sign, for Jane never forgot her manners.
She curtsied as her sister and the man made their farewells. She wondered, as they spoke, whether Mr. Bingley was truly ready to marry. He still seemed a little . . . well, young, to tell the truth, and not only due to his age, which could not be more than a year older than Jane. He was a pleasant, thoughtful, handsome gentleman, and Jane clearly preferred his attentions to those of the other men she had met at the two balls and various other engagements in these past weeks. No wonder, for the other men had leered and teased while Mr. Bingley had simply spoken with her and seen to her comfort.
No, at least thus far, Elizabeth could approve Mr. Bingley’s interest. That was all it was at this point.
Quincy crossed his arms over his chest and regarded Darcy with a lifted brow. “You wish to learn the arrow?”
“It is a French strategy my cousin has picked up in his travels,” Darcy replied. Once he had known what to look for, his men had discovered what Fitz was truly hiding. At least, he hoped as much. He would not underestimate Fitz again. He ought never to have done so inthe first place.
Darcy trusted Quincy, for not only was he one of Angelo’s best instructors, one with whom Darcy regularly fenced, he was also a cousin to his coachman, Anders. The Anders family was a large one, and his relatives worked in any number of places in and around London. Quincy was only a few years older than Darcy, but very knowledgeable about fencing in Germany and France as well as Italy; he was the one to ask.
“It is a quick, exaggerated lunge, meant to catch the opponent flat-footed,” Quincy said thoughtfully. “Not really an elegant movement in my opinion, but often effective. Used more with the epee than the foil.”
“Can you teach it to me?”
Quincy’s dark eyes assessed him. “You have only four days. I can teach you the basic movements and how to avoid it. Whether or not you will be able to perform either creditably by Monday depends upon you.”
He had asked to see Quincy earlier, but the man had other students. “I can ask no more.”
“Very well.”
They took their places on the floor and began.
“Presuming I have understood your description properly,” Quincy said, “your cousin will remain in a deep knee bend with a fully extended arm. The bent leg allows him to spring forward with great force, and the straight arm to defend against any counterattack.” He demonstrated.
Darcy watched carefully, walking around Quincy to view the stance from every angle.
“Next,” Quincy continued, “he will turn his shoulders to the side, thus.” He squared his shoulders, then twisted his torso slightly to the left. “This reduces the area you have available to strike.”
It certainly did. Darcy frowned in concentration.
“If the man who is performing the movement does so properly,” Quincy said, “he will target your arm and shoulder. Therefore, you must beattuned to the very moment he pushes forward so that you may step sharply to the side and back. Distance is what you must strive to maintain so that you have the time you require.”
It would be quite a trick to know which side Fitz was targeting, too—Darcy would hate to move the wrong way and thus directly into his cousin’s path. He was grateful he would have time to prepare. Even having a few days to prepare would make a significant difference. Had he held fast to his illusion of superiority, Fitz would have beaten him soundly, and in public too.
“Would you be available to work on this with me at Darcy House tomorrow?” he asked. Georgiana was home, but fencing with an instructor was not as troubling for her as watching her brother and cousin engaging in a match.
“For the usual fee,” Quincy replied.
“Of course,” Darcy said. “And if I win on Monday, I will double the amount.”
Quincy smiled. “What time?”
Chapter Eleven
Elizabeth entered Beecham House with Jane, Amelia, and Diana on Friday afternoon. While still chilly, it had not been as cold as the days had been recently. They were greeted, their coats and scarves taken, and then the butler led them to Miss Torrington’s drawing room, where she awaited her guests. A woman with white hair simply arranged sat in a comfortable wing chair nearest the fire with a small spaniel in her lap. She did not rise, and Elizabeth quickly realised that both she and the dog were asleep.
