Chapter 15
STRONGER THAN VIRTUE
Over a week later, surrounded by filth, Darcy stood outside the door and pounded.
His nemesis could be heard barking orders before the door slowly crept opened.
“Well, well, what do we have here? The Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley and Derbyshire. What on earth brings you to this part of Town?” He huffed.
“No doubt it will take years for you to rid yourself of the stench.”
Pursuing his former friend had taken far longer than he would have wished: tiresome questioning of some of the town’s vilest creatures and even bribery, but he had finally done it. Now I find myself in the hallway of this filthy rat hole.
George Wickham’s hair was tussled, and his shirt hung loosely from his trousers.
Heaven knows what Darcy had interrupted.
Wickham stepped aside. “Well, do not just stand there. Come in and have a seat.” Directing Darcy to a cluttered wooden chair, Wickham swept his coat and other belongings to the floor.
Waving his hand, he said, “Welcome to my humble abode—such that it is. I would offer you a drink,” he waved the half-empty decanter, “but I am rather low in spirits.”
Darcy clutched his hat tightly. “This is not a social call.”
“I do not suppose it is—especially in view of the way we parted in Ramsgate.” He took a swig from the bottle, and then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “How is your lovely sister?”
“You reprobate! How dare you mention my sister?”
From the moment he had heard of the terrible fate visited upon Elizabeth’s family, this sorry state of affairs had caused Darcy to think about a circumstance that he wished to forget: his entire sordid history with Wickham and what it nearly had cost him.
Wickham was the son of a very respectable man, the elder Mr. Darcy’s steward.
Owing to the elder Mr. Wickham’s good conduct in the discharge of his duties, the late Mr. Darcy liberally bestowed his kindness on George Wickham, who was his godson.
He supported him at school and afterwards at Cambridge.
He was not only fond of the young man, whose manner was always engaging, but he also had the highest opinion of him.
Hoping the church would be his profession, the late Mr. Darcy intended to provide for him in that.
Darcy, himself, thought of Wickham in a very different manner.
The vicious propensities—the want of principle—which he was careful to guard from the knowledge of his benefactor, could not escape the observation of a young man of nearly the same age with himself, and who had opportunities of seeing him in unguarded moments.
The elder Mr. Darcy’s attachment to Mr. Wickham was so steady that in his will he particularly recommended to his son to promote Wickham’s advancement in the best manner that his profession might allow.
If Wickham took orders, the late Mr. Darcy desired that a valuable family living might be his as soon as it became vacant.
There was also a legacy of one thousand pounds.
Within half a year from these events, Mr. Wickham wrote and informed Darcy that he much preferred cash in lieu of the living.
He had some intention of studying law, and the interest of one thousand pounds was insufficient to support his desired way of life.
Wishing more than believing him to be sincere, Darcy readily acceded to Wickham’s proposal.
Knowing that Wickham ought not to be a clergyman, the business was therefore soon settled, and Wickham resigned all claim to assistance in the church were it possible that he could ever be in a situation to receive it.
He accepted in return three thousand pounds.
All connection between the two seemed now dissolved, for Darcy thought too ill of Wickham to invite him to Pemberley, or admit his society in Town.
When the living became available, Wickham returned to see Darcy.
He had found the law a most unprofitable study.
He was subsequently resolved on being ordained if Darcy would present him to the living in question, just as the elder Mr. Darcy had intended.
When Darcy refused to comply with this petition, Wickham’s resentment was in proportion to the distress of his circumstances.
He violently reproached Darcy and vowed his revenge.
Wickham smirked. “How did you find me?”
“I uncovered every rock I could until I finally sought your partner in the attempted ruin of my sister.”
Darcy did not need to be more specific, for Wickham could have suffered no doubt over whom Darcy was speaking.
After their altercation at Pemberley, every appearance of acquaintance between the two men was dropped until last summer when he painfully obtruded on Darcy’s notice with Darcy’s young sister, Georgiana, in his sights.
About a year prior, she had been taken from school and an establishment formed for her in London.
Last summer she went with the lady, a Mrs. Younge, who presided over it, to Ramsgate.
Thither also went Mr. Wickham, undoubtedly by design, for there proved to have been a prior acquaintance between him and Mrs. Younge, in whose character Darcy had been most unhappily deceived.
By her connivance and aid, Wickham was able to recommend himself to Georgiana, whose affectionate heart retained a strong impression of his kindness to her as a child.
He persuaded her to believe herself in love and to consent to an elopement.
She was then but fifteen, which must be her excuse.
Darcy joined them unexpectedly a day or two before the intended elopement, and then Georgiana, unable to support the idea of grieving and offending a brother whom she almost looked up to as a father, acknowledged the whole to him.
Wickham’s chief object was unquestionably young Miss Darcy’s fortune of thirty thousand pounds.
Darcy always supposed that Wickham’s hope of retaliation was a strong inducement as well.
Had Darcy not thwarted Wickham’s scheme, the latter’s revenge would have been complete indeed.
“Come now, Darcy. You and I were the best of friends at one time.”
A young woman poked her head out the door of the adjacent room. “I shall be out to receive our guest as soon as can be.”
“Stay where you are, Lydia.” He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “You little fool,” he mumbled. Aiming his ire straight back at Darcy, Wickham said, “My business does not concern you.”
Darcy shook his head. “That is where you are mistaken. My purpose in being here has everything to do with Miss Bennet.”
Still gripping his bottle in his hand, Wickham crossed one arm over the other.
“Here you are again, riding in on your white horse to rescue another damsel in distress. It is a shame that you arrived in Ramsgate when you did. I might well have been your brother by now, and we surely would not be standing around in this wretched place.”
Lydia poked her head into the room again.
“Whatever do you mean in saying you might have been his brother? Who is this tall, proud man? Whoever you are, sir, am I correct in hearing that your sister had designs on my Wickham? La! Is she prettier than I am?” She huffed.
“Of course she could not possibly be, for my Wickham says that I am the loveliest woman in all of England.” She looked at him with her eyes full of lust. “Is that not what you whisper to me every time we—” Gasping, she slapped her hand over her mouth.
“Heavens, I ought not to have said a word about any of that.”
The look both men bestowed spoke louder than words and prompted Lydia to draw her head back in her room.
“I fail to comprehend what interest you might possibly hold in the likes of her? How are you even aware of whom she is?”
“I am under no obligation to divulge any of that information to you. Suffice it to say the young woman’s family is devastated.”
Mindless of her dishevelled attire and unkempt hair, Lydia pranced into the room.
“Why on earth would my family be devastated by my marrying the handsomest, most amiable man in the world, and an officer no less?” She clasped both hands to her face to contain her exuberance.
“The youngest daughter married before the eldest! Who should have imagined such a thing? Mind you, I did write to my dear friend Harriet providing her the strongest hint of our intentions. She was to tell Sally to mend a great slit in my worked muslin gown before they are packed up—”
Wickham marched towards her, forcing her to trace her steps backwards. “I do not wish to hear another word from you. Do I make myself clear?” She nodded and retreated into the room. He grabbed the knob and slammed the door. “Do not force me to lock this door! The next time, I will!”
Darcy ran his fingers through his hair. Why am I wasting my time on a silly young girl so deficit of sense and feeling as to consent to live with a man on terms other than marriage?
The fact that she has chosen to follow Wickham down this scandalous path of shame makes her even more pitiable.
Wishing to be done with the two of them as soon as possible, Darcy knew there was only one route to a speedy resolution—the one that led straight to Gretna Green.
A knock at the door summoned their attention. Wickham sauntered over to the door and pulled it open. “Who in hell is this?” he barked, glaring over his shoulder at Darcy.
Darcy approached and greeted the elderly woman. “Mrs. Shaw, thank you for coming. I am sorry to ask you to do this and even more sorry to subject you to such conditions, but there is no other way. You will find the young woman in the adjacent room.”
Lydia, who had not been deterred from listening to the goings-on outside her door, bounced into the room again. “La! Have we another caller? Two callers in one morning, I shall go distracted.”
“Quiet, Lydia!” Wickham’s heightened colour evidenced his exhausted patience. “Go back inside until I say it is acceptable for you to come out.”
In a manner reminiscent of a petulant child, Lydia stomped her foot and crossed her arms. “Am I not the mistress of my home? Is it not my privilege to receive our guests?”
Glowering, Wickham lunged towards her, but Lydia scuttled off in a flash.
Mrs. Shaw trailed behind her. He rubbed his hand over his face and blew out a sharp breath.
All but dropping to his knees, Wickham said, “Darcy, take her away, and take that old woman with you. I assume that is her purpose in being here.”
“It will not be as simple as that. The young woman is ruined. What is more, her entire family risks ruin because of your debauchery. There is but one way to rectify the situation. You must marry her.”
“Marry her?” Wickham snorted. “You know as well as anyone that my habits of taste require that I marry a woman of means. Why would I marry this silly girl? You and I both know she is not the first to throw herself at me. I dare say she will not be the last.”
“Silence, Wickham! You will marry her, and before you protest further, you ought to know that while I was turning over every rock to find you, I had my man conduct a thorough inquiry on your spending habits in Meryton and Brighton. It seems you incurred significant debts. You can have no doubt who now holds the notes. So, unless you fancy a good long stint in prison owing to your inability to pay your sizeable debts, you will marry the girl.”
Wickham raked his fingers through his hair and then placed his hand about his waist. “How am I to support a wife, a home, and, heaven forbid, children? Do you mean to grant me the living that ought to have been mine all along?”
Darcy laughed aloud. “Leave it, Wickham! How you mean to support yourself is none of my concern.” Darcy considered it was Elizabeth’s sister he was subjecting to such a fate.
“Although you were amply compensated in the past in lieu of the living, I am not unreasonable. I am willing to discuss arrangements to set you and your bride on a steady path.”
A half hour later, Darcy pushed himself away from the rickety wooden table where Wickham and he had hammered out the scheme.
His purse was destined to be lighter by nearly ten thousand pounds by the time it was all done, but it was worth it.
The worst Elizabeth’s family need endure was the embarrassment of the youngest daughter’s elopement to Gretna Green, which they must surely consider a blessing in view of the alternative.
“Gather your belongings, Wickham. You are coming with me.”
“Why should I leave? Is that not the purpose of your bringing that old woman around—that she might escort Lydia to her relatives in Cheapside or even Grosvenor Square to remain until our travel arrangements can be made?”
Darcy huffed. “Grosvenor Square? Do not be absurd! Besides, the young woman’s family knows nothing of any of this.
The only thing they will know is that the two of you were married in Gretna Green, just as she had informed her friend.
You shall make whatever excuse you wish in explaining your delay in returning to England.
“Mrs. Shaw will remain here with Miss Bennet, and you shall come with me. I have no intention of letting you out of my sight until the two of you exchange wedding vows, at which point, I hope never to see you again.”
Deep in thought in the carriage en route to his Grosvenor Square townhouse, Darcy would not be entirely satisfied with the way things unfolded. Ever since he first learned of what happened in Brighton, he was consumed with a single burning question.
He looked at his companion with disgust. “You care nothing about that young woman, or else you would not have treated her as little more than a whore. She has no fortune, nothing to recommend her. Why did you single her out for your malicious intentions?”
Wickham gave Darcy a sinister, cold-hearted stare. He studied his fingers and then glared at his former friend. He leaned forward in his seat. “Tell me this, Darcy … why not her?”