Vol 1, Chapter 8 #3
“Some time or other he will be—but it shall not be by me. Till I can forget his father, I can never defy or expose him.”
‘That is your biggest lie yet! What do you think you are doing at this very moment? It is obvious to me you never took orders, for if you had you would not be earning a pittance in the militia!’ Elizabeth concluded.
“But what,” said she, after a pause, “can have been his motive? What can have induced him to behave so cruelly?” She wanted to hear whatever nonsense the man came up with.
“A thorough, determined dislike of me—a dislike which I cannot but attribute in some measure to jealousy. Had the late Mr. Darcy liked me less, his son might have borne with me better. I believe his father’s uncommon attachment to me irritated him exceedingly early in life.
He had not a temper to bear the sort of competition in which we stood—the sort of preference which was often given me. ”
‘I understand that Pemberley is not entailed. If your godfather loved you so well, why did he not take care of you in other ways?’ She aloud made another inquiry just to discover what else the man would say.
“I had not thought Mr. Darcy so bad as this—though I have never liked him. I had not thought so terribly ill of him. I had supposed him to be despising his fellow-creatures in general but did not suspect him of descending to such malicious revenge, such injustice, such inhumanity as this. He must hold implacable resentments and have the most unforgiving of tempers. His disposition must be dreadful.”
“I will not trust myself on the subject,” replied Wickham; “I can hardly be just to him.”
‘That is good, for I do not trust you on this or any subject either!’ Elizabeth appeared to be deep in thought, and after a time exclaimed, “To treat in such a manner the godson, the friend, the favourite of his father! A young man, too, like you, who seems to be amiable.” She then added, “And one, too, who had probably been his companion from childhood, connected together, as I think you said, in the closest manner!”
“We were born in the same parish, within the same park; the greatest part of our youth was passed together. We were inmates of the same house, sharing the same amusements, objects of the same parental care. My father began life in the profession which your uncle, Mr. Phillips, appears to do so much credit to—but he gave up everything to be of use to the late Mr. Darcy and devoted all his time to the care of the Pemberley property as the steward. He was most highly esteemed by Mr. Darcy, a most intimate, confidential friend. Mr. Darcy often acknowledged himself to be under the greatest of obligations to my father’s active superintendence, and when, immediately before my father’s death, Mr. Darcy gave him a voluntary promise of providing for me, I am convinced that he felt it to be as much a debt of gratitude to him, as to his affection to myself. ”
“How strange!” cried Elizabeth. ‘I can believe his father was an honourable man, but the son is clearly not!’
“It is wonderful how he can fool,” replied Wickham, “for almost all his actions may be traced to pride; and pride had often been his best friend. It has connected him nearer with virtue than with any other feeling. But we are none of us consistent, and in his behaviour to me there were stronger impulses even than pride.”
“Can such abominable pride as his have ever done him good?” ‘He is proud, that is true, haughty and arrogant too, but neither have I seen, nor has the report Papa has ever intimated, anything dishonourable about Mr. Darcy!’
“Yes. It has often led him to be liberal and generous, to give his money freely, to display hospitality, to assist his tenants, and relieve the poor. Family pride, and filial pride—for he is immensely proud of what his father was. Not to appear to disgrace his family, to degenerate from the popular qualities, or lose the influence of the estate, Pemberley, is a powerful motive. He has also brotherly pride, which, with some brotherly affection, makes him an exceedingly kind and careful guardian of his sister, and you will hear him generally cried up as the most attentive and best of brothers.”
‘Are you that bad a liar that you do not see all of the contradictions in your speech?’ “What sort of girl is Miss Darcy?” Elizabeth asked.
He shook his head dramatically. “I wish I could call her amiable. It gives me pain to speak ill of a Darcy.”
‘What drivel, for that is what you have been doing this whole time!’ Elizabeth was getting frustrated, but she had listened for this long, she would hear him out.
“Yet she is too much like her brother—enormously proud and arrogant. As a child, she was affectionate and pleasing, and extremely fond of me; and I have devoted hours and hours to her amusement. But she is nothing to me now. She is a handsome girl, about fifteen or sixteen, and, I understand, highly accomplished. Since her father’s death, her home has been London, where a lady lives with her and superintends her education. ”
‘This is the opposite of how Mama described Miss Darcy. Wait! Could it be that this man was involved in the undefined trouble that was in the report? I wonder if his injuries were of his own making. There is no way that this man exerted himself on anyone else’s behalf!
It is not hard to see that there is only one that he cares for—himself!
’ Elizabeth was sure that she had an accurate sketch of the man’s character by now, or, more accurately, a measure on his lack of character!
Elizabeth sighed inwardly with relief when her parents intervened to collect her, telling her it was time to depart. As she curtsied to Mr. Wickham, he did not notice the tight smile, believing that he had a staunch ally in his corner.
Once the Bennets’ carriage started to move, Bennet held up his hand when he saw Elizabeth was bursting to talk. “At home, Lizzy. We will discuss all at home.”