Chapter 3
Graduation had gone smoothly and was Bingley-free.
On the one hand, the cousins felt a certain level of sympathy for Bingley based on his descriptions of his mother and younger sister and their demands.
On the other hand, based on what Charles Bingley had related, they felt that rather than placate his wife and youngest daughter, the Bingley patriarch should be checking their unacceptable behaviour.
It was after the graduation that Robert Darcy told his godson he was required to present himself at the Blue Heron Inn where he and the three Fitzwilliams were residing for their stay in Cambridge.
After speaking to masters and others at Cambridge, Darcy decided the conversation could not wait.
The reports had been mostly poor, and those had been the best of them.
George Wickham strutted into the inn with supreme confidence.
Was his godfather finally going to recognise that he should be the heir and not that prig William?
Although that is what he dreamed would be the case, Wickham knew it would never be, but he was allowed to dream, was he not?
Perhaps the old man was to tell him he would have Rivington, the largest Darcy satellite estate, with an income close to seven thousand pounds per annum.
It was not the ten thousand pounds of Pemberley, but it would do for him.
He knocked on the door displaying the number his godfather had given him.
On hearing Mr Darcy call for him to enter, Wickham did so.
After a few steps into the room, his confidence began to slip when he saw both Darcy men and the three Fitzwilliam men seated within.
He decided the best defence was to go on the attack.
“Has William been trying to blacken my name again? It is so sad he is so jealous of me…” Wickham began but closed his mouth when Richard Fitzwilliam advanced towards him. The younger Fitzwilliam petrified Wickham.
“Please, Wicky, explain to us what William, the son of Robert Darcy, heir to all Darcy properties and holdings, has to be jealous of?” Fitzwilliam demanded.
He turned to his uncle. “If that is the drivel he has been spouting to you, I would posit he is telling you of his own jealousy of William. Just like I am sure that if the word of the debts he ran up or the women he meddled with reached your ears, he would have tried to blame your son and claim innocence.”
“All of the debts are in William’s name, not mine…” Wickham closed his mouth with a clack when his godfather surged out of his chair.
“You are a lying snake-in-the-grass who seduces women, gambles, and runs up debts. I have written to Mrs Reynolds to ask about the maids and daughters of tenants you have meddled with. You had better pray that I am not told you forced yourself on any of them because then I will ask my brother-in-law to have you sent to Van Diemen’s Land with no possibility of returning to England,” Darcy roared at his cowering godson.
“This morning before the ceremony, William took me to some of the shops where you ran up debts using his name. To a man the merchants said that William never incurred the debts but had made them whole. When they described the man who claimed to be William, it was you. What do you have to say in your defence?” Darcy returned to his chair, all the while glaring at Wickham.
“The Darcys are so wealthy, what do you care…” Whatever Wickham was about to say was cut off when Richard Fitzwilliam’s fist connected with his belly. It knocked the breath out of him, and he almost felt like he needed to cast up his accounts.
“That has always been your problem!” William barked.
“You see what we have and you want it. You want it to be given to you without you lifting a finger to earn anything. Since King William I, Darcys have been at Pemberley fighting to make it successful. It took many generations of hard work, lots of blood, sweat, and not a few tears for the estate to become what it is today. You like to think you are a Darcy son, but you are not. You are the son of our late steward and rather than be grateful for all my father has been willing to do for you, all you think about is how to take as much as you can.”
“On his deathbed, I made a vow to your father that I would make sure you had a good future, and I would have recommended you for the Kympton living,” Darcy related.
“However, the scales have fallen from my eyes, and even were you willing to put in the work to become ordained, which I seriously doubt, you are not the man to be entrusted with the spiritual well-being of anyone. If you are not willing to take the opportunities a gentleman’s education will afford you, you are wasting your time and my money here. ”
“W-what w-will ha-happen t-t-to m-me?” Wickham stammered.
“That very much depends on you,” Darcy returned.
“If you apply yourself and study, attend classes, and do not carouse, gamble, seduce innocents, or take on debts you have no way to cover, I will pay for your final year at Cambridge.
However, you had better pray it is not reported to me that you have repeated any of your objectionable behaviours.
In that case, my support will end with immediacy, and all connection between you and my family will be severed, and I will call in all the debts you owe.
This is your final chance. Break any of the conditions, and there will not be another opportunity for you.
I will no longer recommend you for the church, and if you hoped that my will would give you the riches you desire without working for them, it will not.
As it is written now, you would have received one thousand pounds on my death, but as soon as I return to Pemberley, I will remove that clause.
Whether you receive any support from me and my family in the future will depend on how you comport yourself from now on.
Do not think you will be able to pull the wool over our eyes, because you will not be able to do so.
You are no longer my godson; that title obviously gave you unrealistic expectations, or you decided it meant far more than it did.
“Rather than you travel with us to Pemberley for the summer, you will remain here and seek some meaningful employment. I will leave you five pounds to begin with, but from now on, there will be no more allowance; you will work and fund your own life. One last warning: never again use the Darcy name to get credit. That will be a sure way to a place like King’s Bench or Marshalsea, or possibly transportation. ”
What his godfather had just stated felt worse than Fitzwilliam’s fist in his belly.
The blows had rained down on him without ceasing, and Wickham was reeling.
He had been so sure that Mr Darcy would never believe ill about him, and he had known that if his godfather did; Wickham would be able to use his charm to convince the old man to his point of view.
That confidence had waned the more Mr Darcy spoke, until he realised that all of his power over his former godfather was gone.
Wickham had enough good sense to know that there was nothing he could say or do, and if he did, he would be on his own without any support.
“You need to make a choice and tell me what it is before we depart for Pemberley on the morrow. If you decide that you cannot live according to the way I stated, then we will part ways and the connection will be broken. Use my name for anything you do not have my written permission for, and you will pay one of the penalties I enumerated.” Darcy stared at his former godson with disdain.
“I will see you in the morning and give you my reply, Godf…Mr Darcy,” Wickham responded. After seeing a dismissive wave from his former godfather, Wickham exited the sitting room, still trying to come to terms with how things had gone so wrong so fast.
“Do you think he will make a good decision?” Matlock wondered.
“Knowing Wicky, he will try and negotiate for easier terms. I am sure he thinks his charm can gain him anything he wants,” Fitzwilliam opined.
“Sorry, little brother, I cannot agree with you,” Hilldale stated. “Wicky would have to be insane to think that Uncle Robert did not mean every word he said to him. He is cunning, a profligate, and a libertine, but I do not believe he is insane. The morrow will tell.”
“What Andrew said agrees with my thoughts on the subject,” Matlock added. “Yet, it is all conjecture until you hear from him.”
“Please excuse us, Richard and I need to go meet Hurst and the three of us will spend a little time with the Bingleys,” William reminded his father, uncle, and eldest cousin.
After farewelling their family members, the cousins made their way to the Cock and Bull Inn to meet Hurst before joining the Bingleys.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
“Charles, how can you embarrass us in this way? We travelled for days from Scarborough to come see the graduation ceremony, and you did not obtain tickets for us,” Mavis Bingley screeched at her son while her youngest egged her on.
Arthur Bingley was normally a man who would keep out of things within the family unless he had no choice.
Seeing his son unjustly berated was one of those times.
“ENOUGH!” The Bingley patriarch yelled. Taking advantage of the blissful silence, he continued.
“Which of the men who graduated today were relatives of ours, and pray tell, where is the invitation we were sent?”
Mavis and her youngest daughter, Caroline, were shocked. Mr Bingley never gainsaid them. Why would he do so today?
“Well, Charles did not do his duty and secure us an invitation!” Mavis exclaimed.
“I asked and I was told in no uncertain terms that it was by invitation only, and no one outside of family or close friends had been invited. Hurst, also landed, who I met today, was the only friend they invited and that is because he has been close to Lord Hilldale, Fitzwilliam, and Darcy for many years,” Charles explained.