‘I do not believe it!’ she said, rallying.

‘Then you must ask Sir John Middleton,’ I said. ‘You have paper on your table. Write to him and ask him if he knows a man named Willoughby.’

‘I never suspected ...’ she said, ashen. She looked at the paper and then said, ‘No, I will not write. I know you to be honest. If you say it is so, then it must be so. But Willoughby. To have abandoned me, promising to return, and then to leave and never to think of me again? Do I mean so little to him, and his child, too?’ she asked, as fresh tears began to fall.

‘Hush,’ I said. ‘You are with friends now.’

I knew that friendship could do little to alleviate her suffering, but what it could do would not be wanting.

‘He is not the man I thought he was,’ she said, drying her tears. ‘And I? What am I? I am not the person I thought I was, either, for I thought I was a dearly loved woman who eloped with her fiancé, but instead I am a dupe. And yet I love him still. Oh! I have been so wrong. I cannot bear it.’

She covered her face with her hands, and I put her head on my shoulder whilst she wept until she could weep no more.

‘Never fear, you are not alone,’ I told her. ‘As soon as your lying-in period is over, I will take you to the country. There you can grow strong and happy again.’

‘Strong, perhaps, but I do not believe I will ever be happy again,’ she said sorrowfully.

I made allowances for her circumstances and her condition, and soothed her and talked of pleasanter things. But she did not listen to me. Her mind was still in the past, with Willoughby.



Friday 28 October

I have found a nurse for Eliza, and hired a maid and a manservant to look after her, and installed her in more elegant lodgings, but now the only thing I can do for her is to sit with her and cheer her until her child is born, for her time is very near. She does not complain, though I can see that she is in discomfort, and she has begun to show an interest in her life after her child is born, for I tempt her with thoughts of her own establishment in the country, where she and her child can be together.



Wednesday 2 November

My feelings are all confusion, for Eliza has had her child, a girl, as like her mother as it is possible for a newborn baby to be. I am thankful for her safe delivery, and full of tenderness when I look at the child, but I am conscious of feelings of guilt as well, for I should have protected her from such a fate.

However, there will be no debtor’s prison for her, no consumption, no early death. I will make it my business to see that she is well cared for. I am convinced that she is young enough to regain her spirits and that, in time, she will be happy again.



Friday 4 November

Having seen Eliza through her ordeal, my thoughts turned to her seducer, and I went in search of Willoughby. I was about to board the stage and travel back to Barton when a chance remark from an acquaintance told me that he was in town.

‘Saw him at my club last night,’ said Gates.

‘Thank you, you have spared me a journey, and an embarrassing scene at the end of it,’ I said, for I had not been looking forward to confronting Willoughby at Barton, where it would worry my friends and neighbours. ‘Is he staying at the club?’

‘No, he is in lodgings.’

‘Do you happen to have his direction?’

He gave me the address and I went there straight away. Willoughby was out, but I said I would wait and the landlady let me in. I sat and waited an hour for him. He entered in high good humour, looking as handsome as ever, and with not a care in the world.

‘What, Brandon? I never thought to find you here. I thought you were attending to urgent business,’ he said impudently. ‘Well, what is it then? You must have some reason for coming here, and I cannot suppose it is for the pleasure of my company. You never struck me as a man who courted pleasure! Indeed, the last time I saw you, you were doing everything in your power to avoid it.’

I took my glove and slapped his face. He looked startled, and his hand went to his cheek, and then he laughed.

‘What! Are you calling me out! I cannot believe it. For laughing at you? No, that is impossible. For what then? I have done nothing — unless you wish to call me out for taking Miss Marianne for a drive when you were called away?’

‘I am not here about Miss Marianne, though, God knows, if I were her brother, I would be tempted to give you a thrashing, ’ I said. ‘I am here about Eliza Williams.’

‘Eliza Williams?’ he asked incredulously, and then something wary entered his eye and the smile left his face. ‘I know no one of that name.’

‘Then let me refresh your memory. She is the young girl you met in Bath, and then seduced and abandoned,’ I said.

‘Oh, hardly that. She took no seducing — ’ He stopped as he realized that he had admitted to knowing her, but then he shrugged and went on, ‘And as for abandoning her, I did no such thing.’

‘You left her alone in a strange city where she had no friends,’ I said, restraining the impulse to knock him down. ‘The very circumstances that should have aroused your compassion instead aroused your cruelty. She was an orphan, with no one to protect her, and so you used her as you pleased.’

He shrugged, and said, ‘And if I did, what business is it of yours? You cannot mean to champion every waif and stray you discover. Not even your chivalry would stretch to that.’

‘She is my ward,’ I said.

He went pale.

‘Your ward?’ he asked, and he put his hand out behind him and supported himself on the back of a chair.

‘Indeed. My ward. I am here to tell you that you must marry her. You cannot give her back her heart, but you can at least give her the protection of your name,’ I said shortly.

‘Marry her? Come, now, Brandon, you cannot expect me to marry her. She is not at all the sort of girl I would wish to marry, and besides, she has not a penny to her name. A man does not marry his mistress, Brandon, you know that,’ he said, gaining courage again and smirking at me insolently.

‘She is not your mistress. She is a young girl of good family who has been cruelly deceived. I have been lenient with you in offering you a chance to marry her, but I confess that I am pleased you have refused, for I would not have liked to see her tied to a man of so little worth. If you will give me the name of your seconds, we will meet at a time and place of your choosing and settle this matter.’

‘Now look here, Brandon, you are a man of the world. Let us settle this as men of the world.’

‘That is what I am here to do.’

‘On the field of honour? Oh, come now, Brandon, you are making too much of it. I am sure she will be happy as long as she has an income. I am not rich, but I can give her something, I am sure. And then, when Mrs Smith dies and I inherit my fortune, I can give her something more. I will set her up in her own establishment, with a maid and everything comfortable.’

‘If you will not repair the damage you have done to her by marrying her, then you will name your seconds. Which is it to be?’

He protested, but as he was adamant that he would not marry her, there was only one course of action open to me.

Leaving him, I sought out some of my friends from my regiment. As luck would have it, Green and Wareham were in town. I made my way to their lodgings and I found them in their shirtsleeves, cleaning their pistols.

‘Brandon! Come in, man, come in,’ said Green, as he opened the door.

I went in, and found that Wareham, too, was at home.

‘Good to see you again, Brandon,’ he said, looking up from cleaning his gun.

‘And you.’

After the customary greetings, I said, ‘Gentlemen, I am not here on a social visit. I am in need of your help.’

They looked at me curiously and Green said, ‘That sounds serious.’

‘It is,’ I said, taking off my hat and gloves. ‘I need you to act as my seconds.’

They were immediately alert, and wanted to know all the details. As soon as I had satisfied them as to what had happened, they agreed at once to act for me.

‘The dog!’ said Green.

‘He should have been in the army. It would have taught him a sense of duty,’ said Wareham.

‘I would not have wanted a man like that in my regiment,’ I said, to which they both agreed.

‘You have challenged him already?’ asked Green.

‘Yes. I have just come from his lodgings.’

‘You know we will have to give him a chance to marry her?’ said Green. ‘There is a code of conduct in these things and we must stick to it, if we want to consider ourselves gentlemen. ’

‘Of course. I have already given him a chance and he told me he would not marry a penniless girl.’

Green’s face showed his disgust.

‘Nevertheless, we have to give him another chance,’ said Wareham.

‘As my seconds, I would expect you to do no less.’

‘What weapon do you think he will choose?’ asked Green with interest.

‘A pistol, I suspect. He probably fences, but I doubt if he has any experience with a sword.’

‘And will you agree to his choice?’

‘I will.’

‘Whatever it is?’

‘Whatever it is.’

‘He will be able to choose the ground,’ said Green.

‘Let him,’ I said. ‘It makes no difference to me where I fight him.’

‘Then we will go and see him now, and return as soon as possible,’ said Wareham, reaching for his coat.

They left me to kick my heels whilst they sought out Willoughby and returned just over an hour later.

‘Well?’ I demanded.

‘He still refuses to marry her. He says he would rather die at once than die a slow death being married to a woman with nothing to recommend her but a beauty which has now surely gone.’

‘It is a pity he did not think of that before he seduced her,’ I remarked. ‘And what weapon has he chosen?’

‘Pistols. The place to be Hounslow Heath, the time tomorrow at dawn.’

‘That suits me well.’

‘Where are you lodging?’

‘In St James’s Street.’

‘Then we will meet there in the morning and travel to the heath together.’



Saturday 5 November

I slept soundly and I was roused by my valet well before dawn. The morning was cold and I dressed with alacrity, eating a hearty breakfast before Green and Wareham called for me. I put on my coat, grateful for the warmth of its capes. Then, donning my hat and gloves, I went out into the mist-shrouded morning.

Lighted flambeaus pierced the gloom, their flames flickering fitfully as they strove to push back the dark, revealing the grey streets beyond.

I heard the muffled cry of the night watchman, ‘All’s well.’

‘All’s well for some,’ said Green, as I climbed into the carriage.

‘For us,’ I said. ‘I am ready to finish this business.’

‘Ay,’ said Wareham. ‘Let us be done with it.’

The carriage pulled away. The horses’ hoofs sounded strangely muted, and the turning of the wheels was no more than a grating whisper as the carriage bumped over the cobbles.

‘This damnable fog,’ said Green, peering out of the window. ‘I hope it clears by the time we reach the heath, or you will not be able to see each other, let alone fire.’

We were in luck. When we stepped out onto the heath, we could see for twenty paces, enough for our business.

There was no sign of Willoughby’s carriage.

Ten minutes later Willoughby arrived, attended by two men who looked nervous, as well they might. They were dandies, not soldiers, and had probably never been seconds in their lives.

‘I will give him another chance to change his mind,’ said Green.

He went over to Willoughby, they had words, and Green returned, saying, ‘The duel is to go ahead. It is for you to choose the distance, Brandon.’

That done, the seconds met in the middle and loaded the pistols in each other’s presence to ensure fair play, then Green and Wareham returned to hand me my weapon.

‘Willoughby’s man is to count the paces. After the count of ten, you may turn and fire at will. Is this agreeable to you? ’

‘It is.’

‘Then let us get it over with.’

I removed my coat. Across the heath, Willoughby removed his. The fog was lifting minute by minute, and I could see him clearly. We came together and stood back to back. His man counted the paces. One ... two ... three ... four ... five ... I thought of Eliza abandoned and left all alone ... six ... seven ... eight ... nine ...