Page 81 of Henrietta

He came upon them in the next moment. There was a sudden clearing in the trees, and there they were: the paces had been measured, the principals had taken up their positions and Timothy and Corky stared at each other from the edges of the clearing. It said a great deal for the preoccupation of the group that they did not immediately perceive Arthur, who pulled his horse to a skidding stop only a few feet behind Timothy – whose eyes did not flicker from Mr Hargan’s handkerchief, held briefly aloft in the air.

Arthur threw himself off his horse and propelled himself forward as Mr Hargan’s handkerchief dropped, and Timothy and Corky raised their arms. Arthur was too late, he knew that, even as he collided with Timothy, slamming his body to the ground and his arm to the side. Timothy’s finger was already tightening on the trigger, and Arthur braced for the searing crack of gunfire – but it never came. Not a sound. Not even a flash. Nothing.

Mr Hargan let out a shout of surprise: so, too, did Corky and Mr Whitfield. Beneath Arthur, Timothy made no noise. Arthur scrambled to roll him over, an act he had performed dozens of times before, for his dragoons – in bloodier and more horrifying conditions, but this was worse. His heart was slamming against his ribs as he braced himself for what he would find.

‘I say,’ Timothy wheezed. ‘You’ve clean knocked the stuffing from me.’

The tension left Arthur’s body before his mind even understood the words.

‘Are you hit?’ he demanded urgently. ‘Timothy! Are you hit?’

Timothy raised his head to peer down at himself. ‘I don’t think so. Hard to tell, y’know.’

Arthur helped him gingerly to his feet, and Timothy gave a tentative shake of each of his limbs, as if even now a bullet might be hiding in one of them.

‘Corky deloped!’ Mr Whitfield called.

‘I was going to delope too!’ Timothy complained. ‘Didn’t get the chance before—’ Reminded anew of Arthur’s presence, he glared at him. ‘What are you doing here? Who told you?’ He shared his glare amongst his companions. ‘Who told him?’

‘They didn’t tell me, you buffoon.’ Arthur’s relief was giving way to anger. ‘You announced your intention to the whole street this morning, and Major Morgan heard you – I didn’t at first think you capable of such idiocy, but then I found your note.’ He gripped Timothy by the shoulder and gave him a shake. ‘What on earth were you thinking, going through with such a thing?’

Timothy pushed Arthur away. ‘As a man of honour, I could hardly—’

‘This is nothing to do with honour,’ Arthur snapped. ‘This is boyish silliness – your nonsense rivalry gone too far!’

‘It was not nonsense! It was betrayal!’ Timothy declared. He looked to his friends for support.

‘Well, I thought it was about lemonade,’ Mr Whitfield confessed.

‘What are you talking about?’

‘I own,’ Corky admitted, ‘I don’t fully understand what happened myself.’

Ire rekindled in Timothy’s breast. ‘Don’t you?’ he said. ‘I saw it as bright as day – those damned sweet williams upon Mademoiselle de Nicolet’s gown! When we made a solemn vow to renounce her, you saw your opportunity to undercut me – do you deny it?’

Corky was indignant. ‘By Jupiter, I did not give them to her!’

‘Then how, pray,’ Timothy said very haughtily, ‘did she get them?’

Mr Hargan gave a little cough. ‘Ah – well. My apologies – I thought, since Corky wasn’t going to use them …’ Timothy and Corky turned to regard him with building outrage. ‘They were my flowers in the first place!’ Unable to prevent a smile from coming to his lips, he murmured to himself: ‘I still cannot believe she wore them.’

‘Good God, man, why did you not say anything?’ Timothy demanded.

‘You told me the whole thing was over lemonade – how was I to know it was about flowers?’

‘Just as silly, if you ask me,’ Mr Whitfield muttered.

Mr Hargan’s defence was not considered, by either Timothy or Corky, as adequate: their upbraiding of his character was fulsome, colourful and rather bonding – never had they found themselves in such agreement.

‘Good God.’ Arthur pressed his hands to his face. ‘This is too absurd. To think you might have been killed over such idiocy.’

‘Never meant to kill him,’ Corky assured Arthur. ‘Always meant to delope.’

‘You didn’t even pull the trigger,’ Timothy berated him. ‘What the devil do you mean by it, Corky? Not the thing, y’know.’

‘I did pull the trigger,’ Corky insisted. ‘Nothing happened.’

‘Yours did not go off, either,’ Arthur said.