An Unpleasant Sort of Man (Pride and Prejudice variation)

Chapter 1

“Darcy! So good of you to come! I am much obliged.”

The words sounded strange in the silence surrounding Oakham Mount, covered by a late November mist and hoar frost.

“I have not much time to lose, Wickham, and even less desire to speak to you, so spare me the niceties and tell me what you want!”

“Very well…I imagine my letter surprised you. I admit I was surprised that you wrote back.”

“Wickham, you must know that I have learnt to expect nothing good from you — mostly the worst. If you intend to ask for money, do not waste my time.”

“No, no. In that regard you have been very clear. I shall not ask you anything, as I am aware you lack any compassion and even less affection for me. Perhaps because your father granted me so much of both.”

“You dare play the victim even with me? Do you have the impertinence to mention my father after you treated his memory so contemptuously? Do not anger me further with your nonsense!”

“I do not intend to anger you. You should calm yourself and keep your voice down — someone might hear you! Although we are in the middle of nowhere — that is why I chose this place to meet, at this early hour.”

“Say your piece, Wickham, and be done with it! Now!”

“Very well. I am asking nothing else from you but discretion, Darcy. I have found myself a comfortable position in the regiment, and I intend to keep it. I hope no rumours in regard to my past will interfere with my present situation.”

“So, you brought me here to ask me not to reveal the truth about you?” Darcy replied sarcastically. “While you have certainly spread all sorts of lies and false claims to pollute my name.”

“I have done no such thing!” Wickham responded, offended.

“Of course you have — you always do, to whoever is willing to listen to you. I assume you whined to everyone that I refused you the living left by my father. But surely you forgot to mention the three thousand pounds you received in compensation.”

“You keep mentioning those three thousand pounds like they were a fortune! That sum is long gone on my daily living expenses! You attempted to clear your conscience with it, but you know too well that if my godfather were alive he would have supported me far more!”

“Had my father still been alive, he would have fallen ill with regret and sorrow seeing what you have become. You have been offered all the support anyone could hope for — and responded with deception and dissipation to everything you were granted.”

“It is easy for you to speak so when you were born to inherit Pemberley!”

“What shameful ingratitude, Wickham! Name one thing that you witnessed me doing that was refused to you while you grew up at Pemberley. You were even sent to Cambridge with me.”

“Yes, but the difference remained! I was always considered the son of your father’s steward.”

“The only difference was that I valued my name, and I strove to earn my father’s trust. I fulfilled my duties to the best of my abilities, precisely because I was born to inherit Pemberley and all the responsibilities that came with it. How you were treated depended on your actions.”

“You were always too severe on me. You cannot deny that you were resentful of your father’s affection for me. That is the reason you denied me the living. After all, it mattered little to you who took it!”

“You are wrong! It mattered to me that the living be given to an honourable, loyal, and deserving man. You claimed you were not interested in serving the church and would prefer to study the law. You asked for compensation and were granted it. And after you wasted it, you suddenly became fond of the church again. Such effrontery!”

“You are not being fair in reprimanding me so harshly! It is customary for a young man to try several careers before he decides which one suits him.”

“Your insolence knows no limits, Wickham. Nor does your propensity to twist the truth. I never disagreed with your quest for a career. If I had had any trust in you or had I seen any genuine efforts on your part, I would have further supported you, regardless of those three thousand pounds. But instead, you behaved like the worst of scoundrels, like a thief!” Darcy shouted.

“You were always severe and disdainful towards me. You never even entertained the notion that I could be part of your family. You always resented that your father favoured me.”

“You were accepted and raised as a member of the family and proved you were not worthy of it. I was far less severe with you than with myself. Had my father known you were seducing maids and tenants’ daughters, leaving debts in your wake, wasting the money and possibilities he provided to you, and neglecting your school work and any form of education — and remember you only graduated with the help I provided!

— his affection would have surely faded. ”

“Your father was a different sort of man from you! He could understand that a young man needed diversion and entertainment. You pride yourself in being like him — and that might be true in regard to mastering your estate — but he was never as stern and haughty and resentful as you!”

Darcy released a laugh so bitter and cold that the air seemed to chill even further. The wind started to blow, while clouds covered the sky. A storm was building, ready to start — in the clouds as well as between the two men.

“Wickham, if I were resentful I would have punished you as you deserved for imposing yourself on Georgiana, or left Fitzwilliam to deal with you. And do not presume to have known or understood my father! Certainly, you did not respect him or his affection enough when you concocted the plan regarding Georgiana. Or should I say Georgiana’s dowry?

I still regret my weakness in letting you go free last summer.

I could have easily had you killed for trying to elope with my sister and nobody would have blamed me!

“But enough of all of this. I shall leave before I completely lose my temper. I have no desire to speak of you or to you again if I can avoid it.”

“I am glad to hear it. That is all I am asking for. But you must know that Miss Elizabeth Bennet noticed our strange encounter in the street in Meryton. She asked me afterwards, when I was invited to her aunt’s house, and I admitted we were previously acquainted but not on the best of terms. I told her—”

Darcy’s sharp laugh cut through the cold air again.

“Do not bother. I can easily guess what you told Miss Bennet. But do not worry about me telling her the truth. I shall leave Hertfordshire in a few days and be done with all of it. What lies you spread about me do not concern me. As long as you behave like a gentleman and an officer, your position is safe. But somehow I doubt very much that your appearance of honour will last longer than a few months, if that. You might be favoured with the gift of easily making friends but keeping them is another matter altogether.”

“Your discretion will assure mine, Darcy. Keeping our past undisclosed is in our mutual interest, especially concerning last summer. I would not wish to be forced to mention Georgiana’s name in any delicate circumstances.”

“I beg your pardon? Do you dare to threaten me?”

“I am only speaking my mind. As for Miss Elizabeth,” Wickham continued in a tone heavy with derision, “I am not worried about you telling her anything as she would certainly not believe you. Upon my word, I have never met someone who despises you so intensely — and certainly not a woman. And her family seem to hate you just as much — which is laughable, considering how desperate they are for any man with some fortune to marry their daughters.”

The offensive jeer in Wickham’s voice, his shamelessness and lack of any decency, defeated what remained of Darcy’s patience and civility.

His fist — clenched in repressed anger — flew before he could control it, hitting Wickham’s face so hard that he took several steps back, staring at his opponent dumbfounded and incredulous.

“You hit me! Have you lost your mind, Darcy?”

“Be thankful that I still have some control over my temper, Wickham. I did hit you, but I have not lost my mind yet. Do not dare ever speak of Georgiana again. Do not ever dare threaten me in any way. Do not write to me, do not approach me unless you wish to face the consequences of my wrath. As for Miss Elizabeth Bennet and your other new friends, I am sure you will not keep them for long. They will sadly discover your character soon enough. I only hope it will not be too late for some of them.”

“There is nothing I wish more than to never see you again, Darcy! I hope you will leave Netherfield soon so we never chance upon each other!” Wickham uttered. “As long as you keep your part of the agreement, I shall keep mine.”

Left alone, Darcy paced around, restless, resentful, seething, furious with Wickham and with himself.

He had never hit a man unexpectedly before, nor had he lost his temper to the point of being unable to control his actions.

Anger overwhelmed him, and it all burst out of him as he hurled his fist against the nearest tree.

From the shock, his foot slipped in the mud and he almost fell, his head striking the tree.

He struggled to regain his balance as he looked at his hand then touched his bruised forehead with his fingers, noticing the bleeding.

Hesitantly, he struggled to grab the reins, thankful for his horse’s obedience.

Eventually, he managed to mount and rode off towards Netherfield.

Not for a moment did he notice that only steps away, hidden behind a huge old oak tree, resting after a long walk, lost in her thoughts and rejoicing in the beauty around her, Elizabeth Bennet had listened to the entire scene.

Bewildered, doubtful, and very much unsettled, she left her hiding place only after the two men had left, staring motionlessly after them from a distance.

She could not breathe, nor temper her heart that was racing wildly, and with a will of their own, weaker than ever before, her feet started to move, taking her towards Longbourn.

Her mind, completely blurred by her painful tumult, tried to see some light and a little reasoning to comprehend what she had just witnessed.