Chapter IV #2
Given Mrs. Bennet’s inability to hold her tongue, the proposal she had received from Mr. Collins was known throughout the neighborhood.
Most, especially the young ladies with thoughts of romance dancing in their minds, commended her for refusing such an unappealing suitor.
Pen was no different, laughing with Elizabeth at once.
This was when Elizabeth set her plan into motion.
“Mr. Collins was not the only diverting figure in Kent. Lady Catherine de Bourgh, his patroness, was a most amusing subject of study.”
“Oh?” asked Pen, thoughtful. “Do I recall correctly that Lady Catherine is Mr. Darcy’s aunt?”
“I see you learned of that, too,” said Elizabeth.
“It was unavoidable.” Pen shook her head. “Mr. Collins informed anyone who would listen.”
“Mr. Darcy was also in Kent while I was there.”
Pen appeared surprised. “You saw Mr. Darcy again?”
“I did. Mr. Darcy and his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, visited their aunt at Easter. The gentlemen stayed for three weeks.”
“That must have been a trial,” laughed Pen. “As I recall, you did not get on at all with Mr. Darcy.”
Silently thanking Pen for the opening she provided, Elizabeth nodded. “Mr. Darcy and I often disagreed when he was in Hertfordshire, but I saw a different side of him in Kent.”
Intrigued, Pen said: “That is astonishing, Lizzy. You were quite set against him in the autumn.”
“Perhaps I was,” agreed Elizabeth, falling back on the same account she had given her family.
“But Mr. Darcy, when you come to know him a little better, becomes a different man. I do not say that he is any more agreeable, rather that I understood him better when I saw him in company with his family.”
“That is curious,” said Pen, searching Elizabeth’s eyes for falsehood. “According to Mr. Wickham, Mr. Darcy is among the worst of men.”
It was Elizabeth’s turn to regard Pen. “What do you know about Mr. Wickham and Mr. Darcy?”
“What everyone in the neighborhood knows,” replied Pen with a shrug. “Mr. Darcy is the wealthy man who blasted Mr. Wickham’s prospects in direct contravention of his father’s wishes.”
This was the first material evidence Elizabeth had ever received of Mr. Wickham’s actions to spread the story about the neighborhood.
Until Mr. Darcy had departed from Meryton, Elizabeth was certain she was the only one who knew the tale.
Though she had heard whispers about it, she had never asked, and no one else had ever informed her of what they heard.
For a moment, Elizabeth considered how best to answer. In keeping with her determination not to relate anything in detail, she did not wish to betray what Mr. Darcy had told her about the business between himself and Mr. Wickham. More subtlety was required.
“That is interesting, Pen,” said Elizabeth, “for I heard that story myself. The curious part is that Mr. Wickham told it to me, while in the next breath he claimed he would never defame Mr. Darcy out of respect for his father.”
Pen’s eyes widened. The Harrington sisters were not the most discerning, their characters more like Lydia than Elizabeth, but she knew they were not bereft of understanding.
“What is most curious, Elizabeth, is that I know of several others to whom Mr. Wickham has related the tale of Mr. Darcy’s supposed betrayal.”
“It appears Mr. Wickham has less reverence for his patron than he suggests.”
Pen nodded, but when she did not reply, Elizabeth continued.
“Please do not suppose that I am saying anything about Mr. Wickham. However, it strikes me that Mr. Wickham has been free with his denunciation after he said he would not speak of it, while Mr. Darcy said nothing, even when I asked him about it at the ball.”
“You asked Mr. Darcy?” gasped Pen.
“I referenced it,” replied Elizabeth. “Mr. Darcy refused to answer, though he offered an oblique warning about Mr. Wickham. It seems Mr. Wickham has trouble keeping friends, though I know nothing more than that.”
When the Harringtons went away, Elizabeth watched Pen, noting her whispered conversation with her sister.
And so it continued. Elizabeth shared little tidbits of information with her neighbors, a comment about Mr. Wickham’s habits here, a mention of his behavior with the ladies there, a question about his practices at the merchants in town, or just listening to her friends speak of him, then interjecting with a casual remark about whether he was worthy of their trust. Though she shared everything in small pieces, never enough to convict Mr. Wickham in anyone’s eyes, what she shared took root in the neighborhood.
The day after the visit with the Harrington sisters, the Bennet ladies visited Lucas Lodge, a common stop given the proximity of the estates and the close friendship between the families.
On Elizabeth’s agenda was the business with Mr. Wickham, but her purpose that day was a little different.
Lady Lucas was a woman like Mrs. Bennet, but of more importance was Sir William, a man involved with every detail of the neighborhood and not hesitant to share what he knew with anyone who would listen.
Of equal significance, Sir William had always esteemed Mr. Darcy for his position in society.
“Elizabeth,” said Sir William in greeting when the family stepped into the room. “Thank you for your kindness in visiting my daughter in Kent. Charlotte has already written to me, expressing her appreciation for your presence. Maria has also had much to say.”
“Not at all, Sir William,” replied Elizabeth with a smile. The man was pompous, excessively civil, and impressed with his importance as a knight, but Elizabeth had always esteemed him. “I was happy to visit my dear friend and pleased that she extended the invitation.”
For some time after, they spoke of the visit, Sir William asking about some points he had heard from Maria, seeking clarification or her perspective.
Elizabeth enjoyed his company, so she was content to converse with him for a time.
Then Sir William, as she had expected he might, provided the opening she needed.
“I understand from Maria that Mr. Darcy visited his aunt after I returned home.”
“Yes, he did,” said Elizabeth, suppressing a smile. “He was in the company of Colonel Fitzwilliam, who is the second son of the Earl of Matlock.”
Sir William appeared impressed. “Maria informed me of the connection. How did you find the colonel?”
“He is an excellent man,” said Elizabeth. “I enjoyed his company.”
For several moments, they spoke of the visit, Elizabeth’s impressions of Mr. Darcy and his cousin, Sir William offering his regret that he had not stayed long enough to meet them. Then Sir William’s comments turned in an unexpected direction.
“Tell me, Elizabeth, have you heard of the rumors started by that soldier in the regiment who was acquainted with Mr. Darcy before?”
“I have,” agreed Elizabeth, wondering if her comments had already made their way to Sir William’s ears.
Sir William regarded her. “And what is your opinion of it?”
Elizabeth paused, considering what she should say.
A glance around the room revealed that they were the center of attention.
It was not overt, for Mrs. Bennet and Lady Lucas still had their heads together in an attitude of exchanging secrets, and Lydia was speaking with Maria, but Kitty’s attention was fixed on her, and Jane and Mary, seated near their mother, watched with interest, and a little disapproval from Mary.
“To own the truth, I do not know what to think,” replied Elizabeth carefully. It would be better if she could say what she must to Sir William alone, but it appeared she was not to receive that benefit.
Lydia, still the most vocal member of the family supporting Mr. Wickham, huffed with annoyance. “That is strange, Lizzy; ever since you returned from Kent, you have sat in judgment of Mr. Wickham.”
“Not judgment, Lydia,” retorted Elizabeth, not willing to indulge her sister’s nonsense. “I merely use the gifts I possess and refuse to be deluded by a man who accuses and does not offer any proof.”
Though Lydia glared, Elizabeth cared little for her sister’s displeasure. Mrs. Bennet looked at her, curiosity mixed with concern, while Lady Lucas appeared uncertain.
“Tell me, Elizabeth,” said Sir William, “did Mr. Darcy speak of Mr. Wickham?”
That was a question that Elizabeth could not ignore, nor could she make light of it and try to deflect him.
Though she did not want to reveal all that Mr. Wickham had told her, for she judged the time was not right, Elizabeth thought she could navigate the business, invoking something of what she knew, but refraining from making any direct accusations she was certain would scare Mr. Wickham away from Meryton and leave the merchants without payment.
“Mr. Darcy was as circumspect as ever, Sir William,” said Elizabeth, deciding on an oblique response. “It is not his way to make overt declarations about others, even if he feels he has been wronged.”
Sir William appeared to consider this. “No, I do not suppose that he would, for Mr. Darcy is not a man to make grand statements. Did he give you some reason to suspect Mr. Wickham capable of falsehood?”
“Mr. Darcy never spoke of Mr. Wickham,” said Elizabeth, reflecting it was the truth—the man had written of his nemesis, but never spoken to Elizabeth about him.
“Yet, I learned while at Rosings that he thinks little of Mr. Wickham, and his cousin supported him in every particular. Of any direct offenses, I know little; however, I did hear that the living of which Mr. Wickham is so fond of speaking was not a bequest.”
“Mr. Wickham has said it was,” insisted Lydia.
“Did he offer any proof?” was Elizabeth’s mild reply.
“Did Mr. Darcy?” retorted Lydia.
“No, Lydia, Mr. Darcy did not. Then again, Mr. Darcy has not spoken on the subject, preferring to let his reputation speak for itself.”
Lydia snorted with disdain. “And an excellent reputation it is.”