For Eliza, I thought.
I took aim.
But as I did so, I saw not Willoughby and not Eliza, but Marianne. I imagined her face as she heard that Willoughby was dead; I imagined her grief, and I was horrified, for, if she was still enamoured of him, she would not grieve easily or quietly, but would suffer with all the depth of her being. If I killed him, I would cause her great pain, and with her nature, it was a pain she would not be certain of overcoming. And so I raised my arm and fired into the air.
Willoughby fell to his knees, and had to be assisted to his feet by his seconds.
I walked over to him and looked at him in disgust.
‘You are not worth shooting,’ I said.
Then Green brought me my coat, and we climbed into the carriage. It pulled away, jolting over the heath before turning on to the road.
We went back to Green’s and Wareham’s lodgings. By the time we reached them, a wind had sprung up, and it had driven most of the fog away, revealing a cold, clean light as a pale sun broke through the clouds.
‘You deloped,’ said Wareham, as we went inside. ‘Why?’
‘Because there is another young woman caught in Willoughby’s toils,’ I said, as I took off my outdoor clothes and threw myself into a chair, ‘and I feared that, if I killed him, she would love him for ever.’
‘Another one?’ said Wareham. ‘How many women does the fellow have?’
‘A face like that brings them fluttering like moths to a flame,’ said Green, as he sat down on the sofa, flinging his arm along the back of it.
‘Ay, I wish I had his handsome features,’ said Wareham, laughing, as he caught sight of his crooked nose and scarred cheek in the glass. ‘It would make a change. I would dearly love to have all the women dangling after me. I would parade myself through the ballroom and pretend not to notice them following me, then I would turn around, astonished, and smile, just so’ — he simpered — ‘and bow’ — he bowed low — ‘and consider which lucky lady to take onto the floor. And then consider which lucky lady to take into my bed!’
‘Whereas I do have his handsome features,’ said Green.
‘True, but in all the wrong places!’ said Wareham.
‘Brandon is the handsome one amongst us,’ said Green.
‘Which is like saying the clean one amongst chimney sweeps!’ said Wareham.
‘Perhaps he is handsome enough to win the lady for whom he spared Willoughby’s life,’ said Green.
‘I cannot think what you mean,’ I said.
‘No?’
‘No.’
They roared with laughter, and Green leapt on me and wrestled me to the ground.
‘Admit it!’ he said as he held me down.
I threw him off, and in another minute the positions were reversed.
‘Never!’ I said.
‘Never?’ said Wareham, adding his strength to Green’s.
They had me!
‘Oh, no, you don’t get up until you admit it,’ said Green, as I struggled.
‘Very well,’ I said, pretending I was beaten. ‘She is someone I met at Barton.’
They let me up and I dusted myself off before launching myself at Green, and then Wareham, catching them off guard and knocking them down one after the other.
We wrestled for some time until at last we were out of breath, and Green said, ‘Well, what is her name?’
‘A gentleman never bandies a lady’s name.’
‘Camilla,’ guessed Green.
‘Arabella,’ said Wareham.
‘Griselda!’ said Green.
‘If you must know, it is Marianne,’ I said, sitting up, for I knew that I could trust them and that her name would go no further; and, moreover, I was longing to speak of her.
‘Marianne,’ said Green thoughtfully.
‘Be still my beating heart!’ said Wareham, clutching his chest.
‘And is it serious?’ said Green.
The mood changed and they both looked at me expectantly.
‘Yes, I think it is,’ I said.
Green let out a whoop! and Wareham clapped me on the back.
‘At last! You have been unhappy for long enough,’ he said.
‘And look set to be unhappy for some time to come,’ I said. ‘The lady has no interest in me. The last time I saw her, she was besotted with Willoughby.’
‘She will not be so besotted when she discovers his true character,’ said Green. ‘You have only to tell her about Eliza and she will be cured of her affliction. No woman could love him after that.’
I sat down and rested my elbows on my knees.
‘It is not so easy,’ I said.
‘Why not? If you like her, and you can show him to be a scoundrel — ’
‘That is just why I cannot tell her. It cannot come from me or it would look like jealousy.’
‘Is that really the reason?’ asked Green, as he continued to look at me. ‘Or is it because you think that she would hate you for destroying her dreams?’
‘Both,’ I admitted.
‘Then what are you going to do?’ asked Wareham.
‘I am not sure. His presence in town is perhaps a sign that he has already tired of her, in which case she might already be aware of his true character, and she might even now be rejoicing in the fact that she has escaped him. And if not, I am hoping that she will soon realize his heart is not deep enough for her.’
‘And then you can court her,’ said Green.
‘Yes, I can.’
To court Marianne, I thought, and I smiled. What could life offer me that was better than that? Unless it was to win her.
Wareham was growing restless, for he was a man of action, not words, and he jumped up as soon as I had finished, saying, ‘Well, that is settled then. Just remember to invite us to the wedding! And now we must have something to eat! There is nothing like a duel to sharpen the appetite. You will stay for a second breakfast, Brandon?’
‘No,’ I said, rising, too. ‘I want to go and see Eliza, and then I am going to Delaford, to look at the cottages on my estate and decide which one of them would make the most suitable home for her.’
They bade me farewell and I went to Eliza’s lodgings, stopping at the shops on my way to buy her a new comb to cheer her. I chose one with a mother-of-pearl inlay, and I was rewarded by her delight in it.
‘It is so pretty,’ she said.
‘And how are you feeling today?’
‘Much better, and longing to be up again,’ she said.
‘It will not be long now.’
I told her I was going to Delaford to choose a cottage for her.
‘Oh, thank you,’ she said. ‘I am so weary of the town. I am longing to be in the country again. Even in the winter it is better than being here, where there are nothing but grey streets outside the window. Have the leaves fallen yet at Barton?’
‘They have just started to fall.’
‘I want to walk in the copse and kick the leaves and see them swirl up in the air and hear the dry crackle as they swish to the ground,’ she said with a sigh.
‘It will be soon, Eliza.’
I praised the baby, who was sleeping in the crib, before I left, and then set out for Delaford.
Tuesday 15 November
I have found a suitable cottage for Eliza, one I am persuaded she will like. It is a pretty building with a small garden, and it has views down the valley. I have given instructions for one or two improvements to be carried out, and as soon as she is well enough to travel, I mean to take her there.
Friday 18 November
I returned to town and told Eliza about her cottage. She was cheered by the news, and she is looking forward to the move.
I have some business to attend to, but then I will accompany her to Delaford, and afterwards I will return to Barton, where I hope to find that Miss Marianne has recovered from her infatuation with Willoughby, and that I can court her.