Chapter 15
Drawing Room
The Phillips’ House
That Evening
Mrs. Phillips's drawing room had a slightly cluttered feel, stuffed as it was full of very cushioned furniture.
It was homey and comfortable, with plenty of seating from which to choose, and the Bennet girls always enjoyed their visits.
It felt good to be sitting comfortably after several hours on their feet.
The girls and the governess had buzzed from one shop to another, industrious as bees, shepherding their hapless, chattering male cousin here and there.
They had descended upon their aunt a trifle early, well knowing she would not mind the premature intrusion.
Indeed, Mrs. Phillips had greeted them joyously, spoken cheerfully to the elegantly reserved Miss Trent, called for tea and scones, and sat down for a comfortable time with her nieces.
Predictably, Mr. Collins had dominated the conversation from the very moment Jane had introduced him until Mr. Phillips had been encouraged to bear the voluble rector away to his study.
Two very pleasant hours had followed as the girls chatted with their aunt over tea.
Mrs. Phillips was, as always, full of the doings of the town, getting the Bennet girls all caught up on the latest happenings; who had said what, and who had flirted with whom, and who was rumored to be in the family way.
Mrs. Phillips could always be depended upon for knowledge of this type, being one of the veteran rumor-brokers of the.
There was not a mean bone in her body, and her words lacked any cruel bite, but she kept her nieces abreast of all the news.
At last she had excused herself to go and see to the final preparations for the dinner party that evening.
“Do make yourselves comfortable, my dears, and relax here,” she had advised and bustled from the room. Her final words had been unnecessary, for the Bennet girls were nearly as at home in the Phillips drawing room as that at Longbourn.
Elizabeth was seated on one of the plush sofas near the large fireplace, her mind dwelling on the puzzling interaction on the main street of Meryton.
Though she admired the handsome Mr. Wickham and his appealing good manners, she could not forget the man's pallor upon recognizing Mr. Darcy, nor that gentleman’s apparent disapprobation at seeing Mr. Wickham.
What strange history lay between the aristocratic Mr. Darcy and the charming new lieutenant? It was a great mystery.
Mr. Phillips stepped inside, his head turned to speak to the gentlemen behind him.
Elizabeth noted, with a silent sigh of resignation, that Mr. Collins was rejoining the company, but thankfully he was not the only visitor.
Six officers in bright militia scarlet were entering behind the master of the house.
Her eye caught that of Mr. Wickham, and she smiled, both surprised and delighted.
It was a considerable achievement on the part of her aunt to extend an invitation to the brand-new officer on the very day that he arrived in Meryton.
Mr. Wickham looked around the room and then made his way to Elizabeth, who could not help but be pleased. He really was a very handsome young man.
The other officers separated so that every one of the Bennet ladies had at least one young man in attendance, to the obvious joy of Lydia and Kitty. Elizabeth was at ease, given that Miss Trent was with the younger girls and would ensure that they did not grow overly loud or flirtatious.
“Do you mind if I join you?” Mr. Wickham asked, and Elizabeth said, “I would be honored. Do sit down.”
He did so very gracefully, and she said, “I know that you only arrived here this morning so have had little opportunity to learn of our town, but I hope you will be content here.”
“I am certain I will,” the lieutenant replied.
“I am honored to have received such a kind invitation from your esteemed aunt, and I am hopeful that I will be equally well received in other houses. I traveled up from London early this morning, and as you perhaps know, the air is not particularly good in London in the autumn. It is beautifully clear here.”
“I agree,” Elizabeth said with a nod. “I find London an interesting place to visit, but I would not care to live there all the time. Did you grow up in the City, then?”
“I did not,” Wickham said, and then after a moment of hesitation, continued, “I spent my boyhood in Derbyshire.”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “Derbyshire? I have met another family recently who lives in Derbyshire, the Darcys.”
She was watching him carefully and noted that his jaw tightened and his nostrils quivered at this statement.
“Yes,” he said a moment later, “I actually grew up on Pemberley, the Darcys’ estate.”
“Truly?” Elizabeth said. “What an extraordinary coincidence!”
“Yes, I will confess that … well, I am a little anxious at Mr. Darcy’s presence in the neighborhood. He is a hardworking and intelligent gentleman, perhaps one of the best in all of England, but he does not think particularly well of me.”
Elizabeth frowned. “Whatever do you mean? If Mr. Darcy is as good as you say he is, why…?”
“Because I fear that I deserve his disapproval,” Wickham said quickly and then sighed before continuing, “Please allow me to explain. My dear deceased father served as steward of Pemberley for decades, and old Mr. Darcy, the current Mr. Darcy’s father, was kind enough to stand as my godfather upon my birth.
My mother was not wise with money, and in spite of my father’s good income, there were no funds to send me to school.
My godfather paid for me to go to Harrow, and then up to Cambridge. ”
“That was kind,” Elizabeth stated, her brow puckered with confusion.
“It was remarkably gracious, and I am grateful,” Wickham replied and then wrinkled his nose. “Unfortunately, my time in school and university introduced me to many young men who had little interest in education, but instead savored gambling and drinking.”
“Oh!”
“Yes, and unlike Darcy, who was born with a sober mind and a healthy and honorable sense of responsibility, I fell into the habit of playing for high stakes and engaging in foolish escapades, in spite of the fact that unlike many of my cronies, I was not wealthy. It was stupid, but I was young and reckless. My godfather never learned about my more egregious peccadillos, but Darcy was also at Cambridge and my frequent idiocies were all too visible.”
Elizabeth nodded and said, “You were very young, though, and exposed to temptation. Surely Mr. Darcy understands that?”
Wickham shrugged and said, “Perhaps. It is to the great benefit of Pemberley that its current master has been serious from his youth, but I also think that it makes it harder for Darcy to be sympathetic to foolish and hapless fellows, such as myself. Mr. Darcy has an old soul, as the saying goes, whereas I spent much of my life running around spending money I did not have, in pursuit of the esteem of young men who did not deserve my adulation. I regret that now, of course, but the past is the past, and all I can do is to try to do better in the future.”
Elizabeth frowned. “You are being very open about all this, Lieutenant.”
“I am, and that too is not an easy thing for me,” her companion said. “I am well aware of my tendency to prevaricate, though I am working hard to be honest.”
“Well,” Elizabeth said, “that is admirable. Now, I believe it is time for dinner.”
“Do you mind if I escort you?” Wickham asked, and Elizabeth nodded.
She was startled by the young man and his confessions but was prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt, for now anyway.
Moreover, it was safer for her to be Wickham’s table partner than the younger girls, who were more inclined to fawn over a man’s good looks than to consider his character.
***
Darcy’s Sitting Room
Netherfield
11 O’clock at Night
The private sitting room was extremely comfortable, as was the chair drawn up before the hearth. The fire itself was large and blazing merrily, putting off a great heat. Yet Darcy, arranged comfortably in the chair, was scowling hideously into the fire, deeply displeased by his own thoughts.
It was as astounding as it was disturbing to know that George Wickham was here in Meryton serving as a member of the militia regiment.
What sort of cursed mischance had brought that spendthrift, dissolute profligate to this little town?
Why Meryton? Darcy had had a surfeit of Wickham's society when they were at school together, and he had no desire to dwell within ten miles of his former playmate.
He had disapproved of his father's generosity in sending Wickham to a gentleman's school to be educated, for though it had been a kindly impulse, the fruit it had borne had all been sour.
Rather than being sober and temperate-minded and learning all a good master or steward would need to know for the running of an estate, Wickham had instead aped the manners of the gentlemen of leisure, who frittered away every penny of their income on cards and dice, fine food and heavy drink.
The only positive aspect to Wickham's education above his station, Darcy thought grimly, was that at least Wickham would know how to courteously avoid another gentleman who wanted nothing to do with him.
Were it only the two of them, Darcy could rest easy in his mind knowing that Wickham had enough sense to avoid angering Darcy, and Darcy could easily ignore him.
Serena and Georgiana, however, ignorant of their old friend's tarnished character and remembering only his kindness to them as children, might very well innocently seek him out. How would Wickham respond? For he could not be permitted to turn his honeyed words and silver tongue to charming the young, susceptible Misses Darcy. Darcy had felt it his duty to keep the unsavory details of Wickham’s proclivities from his young sisters, but now he wondered if that had been a mistake.
How receptive might they be to a warning from him regarding one of whom they had only untainted fond memories, especially given that Wickham was, indubitably, blessed with extremely happy manners and charm?
Darcy would have to consider the matter carefully before proceeding. One thing was certain; he would do what it took to protect his sisters. He would not allow Wickham to besmirch their honor, by word or glance or deed!