Chapter 32
WHERE MR WICKHAM HAS MUCH TO SAY AND PUTS IT IN A LETTER.
Darcy,
I write to you not to demand money, nor obtain forgiveness, but to inform you that I am leaving England with no intent of ever returning.
Dependent upon the number of days that pass until this letter finds its way into your hands, I am unlikely to be on English soil but bound for a new continent with new prospects.
So much the better for me. By now you must have learnt of my desertion and the debts of honour that prompted it, several of which I confess are rather more serious than my usual scrapes.
I am not proud of myself by any means, but such has become my lot in life.
While I endeavoured to be a good husband to my wife and to give the appearance that our marriage is respectable, you, more than anyone, ought to know that opportunity aided by circumstance often poses too great a temptation for me.
In short, I have not remained faithful to my wife and for that I do feel some small degree of remorse, as I believe Lydia cares for me quite sincerely.
Whether you believe it or not, I have grown fond of her as well—as fond as I can be of an affectionate, impulsive, silly girl I neither intended nor wished to marry in the first place.
But I digress. When my circumstances in the north became extremely dire, I knew I must either desert my post or face certain retribution from which I would never recover.
My course was easily decided. I could not possibly bring Mrs Wickham with me.
While the journey itself shall likely be arduous and of some duration, you must have surmised I do not have sufficiently ample funds to purchase suitable accommodations for myself and safe passage for my wife.
It only stands to reason I must have something to live on when I reach my destination; the two-thousand pounds I have recently acquired should provide adequate support until I can make my fortune elsewhere.
You understand my character intimately enough to guess that my owning to already having a wife at this point would render my scheme impossible.
Do not think me too cold-hearted, however, as I did try to return Mrs Wickham to Longbourn last month.
Had she not insisted on accompanying me to town she would now be safe within the bosom of her family and none the wiser.
As it was at your insistence that I married her to begin with, it will now fall to you to see that no harm comes to her.
I hereby consign her unto your protection, and that of my dear sister Elizabeth, who I have come to understand has recently agreed to marry you.
Please extend to her my best wishes for her health and happiness.
I have no doubt she will find ample consolation as the new mistress of Pemberley, if not in the honour of being your wife.
Yours, etc.,
George Wickham
Darcy glared at the letter in furious disbelief, his ire escalating with each fresh reading of it.
He was ensconced in his study with Bingley and Fitzwilliam, who had discovered a letter bearing Darcy’s name within the lodgings the Wickhams had taken in a marginally disreputable part of town.
It was late and the ladies—Lady Carlisle, Mrs Lawrence, Elizabeth, and Jane—awaited them in the music room.
“Well,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam impatiently, “what does it say?”
Disgusted, Darcy thrust the letter at him. “Wickham has left England. He does not intend to return.”
Bingley appeared incredulous. “Never?”
Darcy scowled at the leather blotter upon his desk. “So, he says.”
“What of Lydia? Surely, he cannot simply abandon his wife!”
“Not only has he abandoned her, but he consigned her unto my protection.”
“That is absurd,” Bingley stammered. “Wickham’s wife is hardly your responsibility.”
“It appears she must become someone’s,” Darcy said irritably, “as he intends to make his fortune in America by taking a new one.”
“A new wife?” Bingley gaped at him. “But he already has a wife!”
Darcy rolled his eyes. “Thank you, Bingley, for pointing out the obvious.”
The colonel looked up from Wickham’s letter, his countenance dark. “You believe the blackguard is headed for America? I have seen no mention of it here.”
“While he failed to mention his destination by name, Wickham is lazy. He is not heading to Australia or Canada. They are too rough for him, and the European Continent is too close and therefore too widely known. He has not the stomach for India—it is far too hot and dusty. It would take him six months or longer simply to reach it in any case, and Wickham is too spoilt to forgo the comforts of civilised society for half a year to travel there in the first place.”
“Not to mention,” the colonel added ruefully, “he would likely fall out of favour with whomever he managed to swindle while onboard the ship and more than likely find himself thrown headlong over the side of it. No, I believe you are correct. He must be bound for America.”
Bingley slumped against Darcy’s desk. “Whatever are we to tell Jane and Elizabeth? Or Lydia for that matter?”
“We tell them the truth,” said Darcy. “They deserve to know what Wickham has done.”
Bingley shook his head. “I cannot see the point. Lydia will never believe you in any case. You heard her at the Gardiners’.
She was positively unreasonable, and hell-bent upon attending that blasted assembly, even after Colonel Fitzwilliam explained the severity of the situation to her.
The way she went on about her new gown and dancing the waltz while her husband was to be court-martialed was astonishing!
And her tomfoolery did not cease there. She complained of the unfairness of being made to stay at home for a full two hours!
Why, I almost consented to escort her to the damned dance myself simply to shut her up! ”
Darcy reclined in his chair, rested his head against the back of it, and rubbed his forehead with his hands. “I am sorry for abandoning you, Bingley. I ought to have been there as well.”
Bingley waved his hand dismissively. “It is perfectly all right. Once Mr Gardiner finally lost his temper, she stormed up the stairs and locked herself in one of the bedrooms. It was far more civilised after that, despite the occasional bout of crying and stomping around we heard coming from upstairs.”
“And this is the way you and Mrs Bingley must spend your honeymoon,” Darcy muttered.
“Bingley may be newly married,” said his cousin, “but you and Miss Bennet have only recently become engaged yourselves. You have had no courtship to speak of, only a week or so of betrothal and a history riddled with misunderstandings and regret.”
“Too true,” Bingley agreed. “Jane and I had two wonderful months of engagement and are now happily married. There was nothing you could have done that Mr Gardiner and I did not do. You were right to take Elizabeth away. No one bears you any ill will for doing what you believed best for her. The Gardiners certainly do not, and Jane and I agree. And it was very good of you to include my Aunt Lawrence in your party. She has enjoyed herself a vast deal more here than she would have while suffering Mrs Wickham’s tantrums in Gracechurch Street. ”
“So would we all,” Colonel Fitzwilliam commented dryly, rising from his chair.
“I am afraid I must be going, gentlemen. Though I can do nothing further tonight, I will visit the docks tomorrow morning and see if there were any ships bound for America within the last three days. If Wickham was on one of them, all the better for England I suppose. If not, I will find the reprobate eventually.”
“You will keep me posted?” Darcy asked.
“I shall be in touch tomorrow as soon as I have something to relate. Bingley, it was good to see you as always. I must say I am rather jealous. You are as fortunate in your choice of wife as my discriminating cousin here. It is a pity there is no beautiful Miss Bennet for me,” he said with a roguish smile.
Bingley grinned good-naturedly; Darcy pursed his lips. “Off with you,” he said, “or I will not be held responsible for my actions.”
The colonel laughed at him and took his leave.
The following morning saw Darcy breaking his fast with Elizabeth and the Bingleys in Park Street, where he and Bingley discussed calling upon Mr Gardiner without delay.
While the gentlemen had intended to go alone, Elizabeth begged Darcy to take her along as well, and insisted she would not take no for an answer.
Bingley observed their exchange with an expression of consternation upon his face, especially when Darcy did not assert his authority over his future wife but merely pressed her hand in an affectionate manner and acquiesced to her demand without batting an eye.
Though Elizabeth had wanted to speak with him the previous night before she departed Brook Street, there had been no time for Darcy to relate anything of his meeting with Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam to her; Jane was eager to return to the comfort of her own home, and both Lady Carlisle and Mrs Lawrence were present.
He had assumed Bingley would have at least informed his wife of the particulars once they gained the privacy of their own apartment, but Elizabeth had told him Bingley had not done so, nor had he spoken so much as one word on the subject to either of them that morning.
Darcy recalled Bingley’s comment about seeing no point in sharing the contents of Wickham’s letter with the ladies, the bewildered look on his face at the breakfast table when Darcy had told Elizabeth she could accompany them to Gracechurch Street, and the speech he had made at Netherfield about desiring a compliant wife and shook his head.
He suspected that once they reached Gracechurch Street his friend would likely be opposed to allowing Elizabeth to join them in her uncle’s study.
Darcy wondered whether Mr Gardiner would oppose her presence as well.