Rain & Letters #2
“The weather seemed determined to prevent every other occupation,” he replied lightly. “I thought I might venture a call and enquire whether the sea air continues to suit you all.”
Georgiana glanced at Elizabeth before speaking.
“You are welcome, Mr Wickham. Pray sit down.”
He accepted the invitation with another easy bow.
Georgiana resumed her seat at the pianoforte, though her hands remained very still upon the keys.
Wickham took the chair Mrs Younge indicated, settling himself with easy familiarity.
“The weather has quite defeated Ramsgate this morning,” he said lightly. “One begins to think the sea means to keep us all indoors.”
Kitty laughed. “We were meant to see the harbour.”
“Then I must hope the town redeems itself before your visit ends.”
He spoke easily of the parade, the assembly rooms, and several families already come down for the season. Georgiana listened with evident pleasure.
Elizabeth observed that while he spoke readily of places and people, he said little of himself. When Mary asked where he had lately been settled, his answer remained very general.
Elizabeth regarded him with quiet attention.
“You are lately come to Ramsgate, then, Mr Wickham?”
“Only a short time,” he replied easily. “The sea air is said to recommend itself to many situations.”
Georgiana spoke then, with a warmth she had not shown before.
“Mr Wickham has known the place longer than we have. He was telling us yesterday that he had visited it in his youth.”
Wickham smiled at her.
“Yes, Miss Darcy and I first saw Ramsgate many years ago. Our families were then well acquainted.”
Elizabeth glanced briefly toward Georgiana, whose colour had risen slightly, before turning her attention again to Wickham.
Georgiana spoke before Elizabeth could reply.
“I remember Ramsgate a little,” she said, her voice quiet but pleased. “We were here once before.”
Wickham inclined his head with an easy smile.
“Indeed we were, Miss Darcy. It is many years ago now, though the place seems little altered.”
Elizabeth glanced toward Mrs Younge. For the briefest moment her work had stilled in her hands before resuming again.
Mary, standing beside the pianoforte, regarded Mr Wickham with composed attention.
Elizabeth turned back to him.
“You must know the town better than we do, then, Mr Wickham.”
Wickham gave a modest shrug.
“I should not claim such authority,” he said easily. “My acquaintance with Ramsgate belongs chiefly to earlier days.”
“Earlier days at Pemberley?” Elizabeth asked.
“For a time,” he replied. “My father had long served the Darcy family, and I was fortunate enough to enjoy the late Mr Darcy’s kindness.”
Georgiana listened attentively, though she did not speak.
Wickham continued with several agreeable recollections of Pemberley in former years, describing its grounds and the river with easy familiarity.
Elizabeth observed that he spoke readily of childhood scenes, yet remained curiously indistinct whenever the conversation approached his later life.
Mrs Younge folded her work and rose.
“The morning is advancing, Mr Wickham. We must not detain you from your other engagements.”
Wickham stood at once.
“I fear I have already trespassed too long upon a rainy morning.”
He bowed to them all with his usual easy civility. Georgiana returned the bow with visible pleasure.
When the door closed behind him, the room seemed quieter than before.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Kitty was the first to break the silence.
“I think him very agreeable,” she declared. “Ramsgate must be much improved by his presence.”
Mary did not immediately reply. Georgiana returned slowly to the pianoforte, touching the keys without beginning to play. Elizabeth remained by the window.
Jane’s letter returned to her thoughts. The accounts she had read that morning sat uneasily beside Mr Wickham’s easy manner.
There was nothing she could call contradiction. And yet something, she thought, did not entirely align.
Elizabeth considered the matter more closely than she had done before.
If Mr Wickham had indeed pursued the law, as some accounts suggested, his circumstances must be very singular.
Her uncle Phillips, an attorney in Meryton, was seldom at leisure from morning until evening, and often complained that the business of the town left him little rest even on Sundays.
Yet Mr Wickham appeared to possess a great deal of unoccupied time.
Elizabeth could not immediately reconcile the two.
That evening, Elizabeth found Georgiana alone in the small sitting room upstairs, a book resting open upon her lap.
“I hope I do not disturb you.”
“Not at all.”
Elizabeth sat beside her a moment before speaking.
“I wondered whether it was strange for you to see Mr Wickham again after so long.”
Georgiana was silent a moment.
“It was unexpected,” she said at last.
Elizabeth watched her thoughtfully.
“And how do you feel about it?”
Georgiana hesitated, considering the question more seriously than she had before.
“I am not entirely certain,” she said quietly. She lowered her eyes to the book in her lap, turning a page though she had not been reading it.
Elizabeth was silent a moment.
“I wondered,” she said at last, “whether you know what has brought him to Ramsgate.”
Georgiana looked slightly surprised.
“I do not believe he mentioned any particular reason.”
Elizabeth hesitated.
“It only seemed curious to me. If he has indeed completed his studies, one would expect him to be settled by now.”
Georgiana listened attentively.
Elizabeth continued gently.
“My aunt Phillips often says that her husband, who is an attorney in Meryton, scarcely has a moment to himself. She declares that the business of the town would occupy three men if they could be found.”
Elizabeth smiled slightly.
“So I could not help thinking that if Mr Wickham has chosen the same profession, he must either be very fortunate in his practice—or very much at leisure.”
Georgiana reflected a moment.
“I had not considered it before,” she said slowly.