Chapter 23
THE FIRST COMPLAINT came from a man who hesitated to make it.
Elizabeth and Jane were in Meryton with Kitty and Lydia on an errand for their mother.
They found several officers near the milliner’s, though Mr. Wickham was not among them.
The sight of uniforms and familiar faces satisfied Lydia, but Kitty looked beyond the group twice before Mr. Denny crossed the street to greet them.
“You will not find Wickham this morning,” he told her. “Colonel Forster found employment for him.”
“Employment?” Lydia repeated. “What employment can there be before dinner?”
“The sort that is discovered when a man is difficult to find at the proper hour.”
Mr. Denny smiled as he spoke, but the smile did not reach his eyes. Lydia laughed and asked whether anyone had punished Wickham, but Kitty colored.
“He has done nothing wrong,” she said.
Denny glanced at her. “I never said that he had.”
“You made it sound so.”
“I meant that the colonel wished to speak with him. Nothing more.”
The explanation might have satisfied Lydia, who had already begun to ask about a ball rumored for the following week, but Kitty remained quiet. Elizabeth saw Denny look at her again, this time with something nearer concern than amusement.
They entered the draper’s shop while the officers continued toward the inn.
Mrs. Philips was inside, examining a length of figured muslin she had no interest in buying.
She greeted her nieces in a voice that drew every eye, announcing that Mr. Wickham dined with the officers the evening before and was the life of the party.
Kitty brightened at this.
“Did he say where he meant to go this morning?”
Mrs. Philips lowered the muslin. “Why should he tell me?”
“He said he might ride toward Longbourn.”
“When did he say that?” Jane asked.
Kitty’s hand tightened around the ribbon she was holding. “Two days ago, when they were there.”
Lydia laughed. “He did not say it in front of us.”
“I never said he did.”
“No, but you hoped we would think so.”
“He wished to speak to me.”
Mrs. Philips looked delighted. Jane intervened before she could demand particulars.
“Kitty, Mama asked for blue ribbon. That one is green.”
Kitty returned it to the counter. Her face remained warm, but she said nothing more.
The draper’s assistant had gone into the back room to find another box.
While they waited, the shop door opened and a broad, stooping man entered carrying a pair of riding boots.
Elizabeth knew him as Mr. Pritchard, who kept the bootmaker’s shop two doors beyond the inn.
He stopped when he saw Mrs. Philips and appeared ready to withdraw.
“Do come in, Mr. Pritchard,” she called. “We do not bite.”
“I came for Mr. Bell.”
“He is in the back.”
Mr. Pritchard shifted the boots beneath his arm. One showed a crease across the instep from wear, while the other looked almost new.
When the draper’s assistant returned with the ribbon, Mr. Pritchard asked whether he might speak to Mr. Bell in private. Mrs. Philips, who regarded privacy as a challenge rather than a request, continued to stand near the counter while the assistant fetched his employer.
Mr. Bell emerged, wiping his hands on a cloth.
“What is it, Pritchard?”
“I need the sum you owe me.”
Mr. Bell’s expression tightened. “This is not the place.”
“I know it is not. I have asked you twice at your house.”
Mrs. Philips turned her head with open interest. Elizabeth wished to move away, but Lydia had planted herself beside the ribbons and showed no desire to leave.
Mr. Bell lowered his voice. “I told you I must wait until Captain Carter settles his account.”
“And I cannot wait. I gave Mr. Wickham credit for the boots because you assured me I risked nothing.”
The name brought Kitty’s attention.
Mr. Bell glanced toward the Bennet ladies. “Not so loud.”
“He promised Mr. Darcy would answer for it,” Mr. Pritchard continued, though he lowered his voice. “You heard him claim that Mr. Darcy had settled his accounts before and would do so again.”
Elizabeth felt Jane’s hand touch her sleeve.
Mr. Bell looked angry now, though whether with Pritchard or himself was not clear. “He said his affairs with Mr. Darcy were being settled.”
“He named Pemberley and spoke as though the estate owed him money.”
“Then take the matter to him.”
“I have. He tells me there has been a delay and asks for another fortnight. I have given him six weeks.”
Kitty stepped forward. “Mr. Wickham would not refuse to pay you.”
Mr. Pritchard looked at her, startled. “I have not said he refused, miss.”
“You speak as though he meant to cheat you.”
“Kitty,” Jane said.
“He has money coming to him. Mr. Darcy has kept it from him, and everyone knows it.”
No one answered. Mr. Pritchard’s face settled into the careful blankness of a tradesman who had discovered that a gentleman’s daughter knew more of a private account than she ought to.
Elizabeth took Kitty’s arm. “We have finished here.”
“But Mama’s lace,” Lydia protested.
“Jane will choose it.”
Jane paid for the ribbon and lace while Elizabeth guided Kitty toward the door. Mrs. Philips remained behind, torn between accompanying her nieces and hearing the conclusion of the quarrel. Curiosity won.
Outside, Kitty pulled her arm free.
“You embarrassed me.”
“No, you embarrassed yourself.”
“I defended someone who was not here to do it.”
“You spoke of his private affairs before a shop full of people.”
“They were already speaking of them.”
“That did not require you to prove he confided in you.”
Kitty’s anger faltered. She watched the street as if Wickham might appear and resolve the matter by smiling at it.
Lydia came out with Jane. “What did he tell you? You never said anything about money from Pemberley.”
“It is not from Pemberley.”
“You said it was.”
“I said Mr. Darcy kept what ought to have been his.”
Elizabeth studied her sister. “What did Mr. Wickham tell you?”
Kitty hesitated. “That there was a provision for him which Mr. Darcy prevented him from receiving.”
“That is what he told all of us.”
“He said Mr. Darcy began turning his father against him before the old gentleman died. Mr. Darcy knew his father intended the living for him and made certain he never received it.”
Jane frowned. “How could he have done that?”
“He did not explain.”
Elizabeth remembered Wickham’s first account.
He had described the elder Mr. Darcy’s affection as unwavering.
The injustice, as he told it then, occurred after his godfather’s death, when Darcy refused to honor an intention already fixed.
There had been no suggestion that the elder man turned against Wickham while he lived.
“When did Mr. Wickham tell you this?” she asked.
Kitty’s eyes moved from Elizabeth to Jane. “At the last assembly.”
Lydia laughed. “After you followed him into the passage.”
“It was not improper. The door was open.”
“That was not my question.”
“He said he trusted me because I understood him better than others did.”
Lydia gave a sharp laugh. “He says that because you agree with everything.”
Kitty rounded on her. “You are jealous.”
“Of you?”
Jane stepped between them before the quarrel could spread into the street. “We are going home.”
They had not gone twenty yards when Mr. Denny came out of the inn and slowed upon seeing their faces.
“Has something happened?”
“Nothing,” Kitty said.
Lydia answered at the same time. “A bootmaker says Mr. Wickham will not pay him.”
Denny’s expression closed. “Then the bootmaker should speak to Wickham.”
“He has,” Elizabeth said. “Mr. Wickham asked for more time.”
“That is not uncommon.”
“No, but claiming Mr. Darcy would answer for the debt may be.”
Denny looked toward the bootmaker’s shop. “Did Pritchard say that?”
“He said Mr. Wickham used Mr. Darcy’s name when he ordered the boots.”
For a moment Denny appeared more tired than surprised. “Wickham should not have done it.”
Kitty stared at him. “You believe the bootmaker?”
“I believe Pritchard heard what he says he heard. He is not a fanciful man.”
“Then Mr. Wickham must have had reason to expect Mr. Darcy would pay.”
Denny looked at Elizabeth, perhaps judging how much he should say in front of Kitty.
“Wickham has expectations that alter according to the company,” he said. “It would be better if he kept them separate from his accounts.”
“What does that mean?” Elizabeth asked.
Denny rubbed a hand across his jaw. “It means I said more than I should have.”
“Has he used Mr. Darcy’s name elsewhere?”
Denny glanced again at Kitty. “I have no idea what he says to tradesmen. Among the officers, he has sometimes spoken as though a settlement were certain. At other times he says he has no hope of justice and must make his own way. A man may be uncertain of his prospects without being dishonest.”
“But?”
“But uncertainty should make him cautious, not generous with money he does not possess.”
Kitty’s mouth tightened. “You are supposed to be his friend.”
“I am his friend.” Denny’s voice remained even. “That is why I would rather he stopped before Colonel Forster has to make him.”
He bowed and left them.
Lydia watched him go. “How tiresome everyone is today.”
Kitty said nothing all the way home.
Bennet was in the library when Elizabeth and Jane told him what had occurred. He listened without interrupting, his fingers resting between the pages of the book he was reading.
“A pair of boots,” he said when they finished. “Mr. Wickham’s ruin advances from cards and dinners to leather.”
“Papa,” Jane said, “Mr. Pritchard’s distress seemed genuine.”
“That is because a gentleman’s delay is a tradesman’s loss.”
Elizabeth sat opposite him. “Kitty knew that Wickham had spoken of money due to him. She also repeated a different account of what Mr. Darcy did.”
“Different from what?”
“From the account he gave us at Aunt Phillips’s, where he said the elder Mr. Darcy intended him for the living, and that the son denied him after his godfather’s death. Kitty says Mr. Darcy had already turned his father against Wickham and blocked his entry into the clergy.