Chapter IX #2
“I suspect her motivations are far more prosaic than that,” replied Elizabeth, though amused. “If she wished to give Jane time in company with Mr. Bingley, why, she could take herself to the opposite side of the room—there is no need for me to be there.”
Mrs. Bennet did not respond, for she was already spinning her webs, desperate for Mr. Bingley to finally come to the point. Elizabeth had no notion what her mother was planning, but she suspected she would not like it, whatever it was.
“The trick is how to ensure you remain there for the night.”
Elizabeth almost groaned—she had been more correct than she knew.
“You will need to come up with a new maneuver, my dear,” said Mr. Bennet, vastly entertained by his wife’s excesses. “In November, you conspired to send Jane on horseback, but I doubt our poor mare will appreciate carrying both Jane and Lizzy three miles to our neighbor’s house.”
Mrs. Bennet seemed to consider this—Elizabeth decided it was best to end the discussion before it went too far.
“We cannot possibly stay the night, Mama.” When Mrs. Bennet glared at her, Elizabeth stated clearly so she would not misunderstand: “When Jane went to Netherfield in November, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst were both in residence. Now, only Miss Darcy is there, and she is not yet of age. She is a sufficient chaperone for a morning visit, but not for an overnight stay.”
“Well, if you put it that way . . .” mumbled Mrs. Bennet.
“I do put it that way, Mama. Jane and I will go in the carriage and will return this afternoon.” Elizabeth softened a little and directed a smile at her mother.
“You cannot claim that Mr. Bingley is not moving along charmingly without interference. Jane will be in his company today—that is the important factor.”
When Mrs. Bennet did not reply, Elizabeth knew she had won the point. Soon after, the eldest Bennet daughters boarded Longbourn’s carriage for the short journey to Netherfield Park.
The housekeeper led them to the sitting-room where Miss Darcy waited alone for them.
After a warm welcome, she called for tea and invited them to sit.
They conversed for several moments, the subjects banal, and though Elizabeth wished to ask about the gentlemen’s whereabouts, she decided it was best to leave the subject alone entirely.
The gentlemen entered the room at that moment, and it was clear to Elizabeth from their expressions of surprise—though quickly turning to pleasure in Mr. Bingley’s case—that they had not known about the sisters’ presence.
“Miss Bennet!” greeted Mr. Bingley, bowing over Jane’s hand. “How lovely it is to see you today. When did you arrive?”
“Only a few moments ago, Mr. Bingley,” said Georgiana, giving him a bright smile. “I hope you will forgive me for the presumption, but I wished for company today.”
“Of course, I am pleased to host the Bennet sisters,” replied he with a grin. “I was about to propose a visit to Longbourn myself.” Mr. Bingley beamed at Jane. “Now it is not required.”
“We are happy to visit, Mr. Bingley,” said Jane.
As was the gentleman’s custom, he soon began directing his conversation to Jane, and in time, he was all but ignoring everyone else in the room.
Elizabeth looked on fondly, but when she caught sight of Georgiana’s satisfaction, she began to understand that her friend had counted on this.
The conversation at the other end of the sofa was much more restrained, for Georgiana spoke of inconsequential matters, while Mr. Darcy said next to nothing.
Then, Elizabeth saw Georgiana’s glance at Mr. Bingley and Jane, and she saw the moment she was assured of their inattention.
“Elizabeth,” said Georgiana, turning back to her, all trace of cheer absent, “I have a matter of some importance to discuss with you today. I hope you do not mind the subterfuge, for I know you have seen it—I enjoy your company, but there are certain things you must know.”
Though taken aback, Elizabeth understood at once to what her friend referred. “You are speaking of Mr. Wickham?”
“Georgiana,” said Mr. Darcy, frowning at his sister.
“No, William,” replied Georgiana, maintaining her calm demeanor. “Elizabeth must know about Mr. Wickham so she can protect herself. You saw how he singled her out at Longbourn yesterday.”
That Mr. Darcy did not agree was clear at once in the slight shake of his head. Elizabeth thought he might protest, but the gentleman grimaced and did not speak.
“Mr. Wickham mentioned something about a clerical living?” ventured Elizabeth, thinking to give her friend a place to start her recitation.
“That was not a bequest,” said Mr. Darcy, speaking with great reluctance.
“Before his passing, my father mentioned the living to me but said nothing about it in his will. He left Wickham a legacy of one thousand pounds and asked me to assist Wickham in whatever profession he chose. The living was a suggestion, should Wickham have any interest in the church.”
Georgiana snorted, quite out of character for her. “I have since learned that the mere notion of Mr. Wickham as a clergyman is laughable. There are few men in the world less suited for such a life.”
Though bemused, Elizabeth pressed on. “Then you assisted Mr. Wickham in other ways?”
Mr. Darcy regarded her for several moments before responding.
“My father must have mentioned the living to Wickham, as he approached me after the funeral and declared he had no interest in the church as a career. Instead, he proposed a more immediate . . . pecuniary advantage in complete confidence that I would agree, given my reverence for my father’s wishes. ”
“Did you?” asked Elizabeth, though her question lacked the heat or skepticism that might have laced her own only a few days before.
With a weary sigh, Mr. Darcy nodded. “Yes, Miss Elizabeth, I did. I had some notion of setting up some sort of annuity naming him as the beneficiary from which he could withdraw reasonable amounts to cover his expenses. But I did not.”
Elizabeth waited, knowing he would say more. Mr. Darcy did not pause long.
“The reason I did not was that I could not support the notion of continuing to be responsible for him, and I suspect Wickham would have objected. Since we were boys, I have been cleaning up his messes one way or another. At Eton, I smoothed matters with several boys that Wickham offended in various ways, and in Cambridge, and later in Lambton, I paid off debts he had left there.”
Unable to believe what she was hearing, Elizabeth said: “Mr. Wickham is a debtor.”
“He is a lot of things, Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Darcy, not hesitating to meet her gaze. “Wickham defrauds anyone he can without the means or intention of paying his debts, gambles, and has no care for the reputations of the women he uses.”
Mr. Darcy shrugged. “When the opportunity presented itself, I offered him a substantial sum of money in exchange for dissolving all connection between us.
“I now suspect Wickham never considered the acquaintance to be at an end.”
“Of course, he did not,” said Georgiana.
When Elizabeth looked at her friend, she could see that Georgiana was offended, most likely for her brother’s sake. She would soon learn that was not all.
“Mr. Wickham has always seen my family as his path to money, whether given freely or by other means.”
Mr. Darcy grimaced. “That is not unreasonable, Georgiana. When our father passed, I saw no true grief in Wickham, only annoyance that he now had to deal with me rather than one who supported him, believed his lies.”
“I do not understand, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth. “How could your father not know?”
The gentleman remained quiet for so long that Elizabeth wondered if he would respond at all. At length, he sighed and passed a hand over his face, though whether it was regret or some other emotion, she could not say.
“Father did not know because Wickham was adept at playing the dutiful protégé. As I am of age with him, I had many opportunities to see him in unguarded moments, a benefit my father did not possess. I knew what he was by the time we were twelve, but my father never saw it.”
“And you never told him?”
Mr. Darcy shook his head, his face a mask of contemplation.
“No, I did not. At the time, I told myself that I was protecting my father’s happiness.
He took my mother’s death hard—in the last few years of his life, it was like he was living a life absent from all joy.
Wickham, for all his faults, could make my father laugh when it seemed he was incapable of it.
I did not wish to take this away from him. ”
“You have not heard the worst part of it,” said Georgiana. “Mr. Wickham’s betrayals run deeper than just this.”
“Georgiana,” cautioned Mr. Darcy, appearing apprehensive. “We have told Miss Elizabeth enough to put her on her guard.”
“I do not agree.”
Before her brother could voice further objection, Georgiana turned to Elizabeth. “What you do not know yet is that Mr. Wickham attempted to induce me to elope with him.”
Shocked, Elizabeth could only stare at her friend. “Mr. Wickham tried to seduce you?”
Fortunately, Elizabeth had moderated her voice—Jane and Mr. Bingley appeared oblivious to the tense conversation happening only a few feet away from them.
Mr. Darcy did not appear concerned for them, but his steady look at his sister suggested .
. . Elizabeth did not think it was quite disapproval, but he was not happy she had said as much as she had.
“Seduction must have been his ultimate goal,” said Georgiana, bravely meeting Elizabeth’s eyes. “But more than that, he wanted control over my fortune of thirty thousand pounds.”
At once, Elizabeth understood. “Then—if marriage was his object—he meant to take you to Scotland.”
“Only two days before we were to depart, my brother joined us unexpectedly.”
“It was nothing more than chance, Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy. “I had not planned to go, but I left a friend’s house early and decided to surprise my sister. I will be forever grateful that I did.”
“Thus, you can see,” said Georgiana, “that Mr. Wickham, confident in his success, made no attempt at seduction while in Ramsgate. Perhaps it was some vestige of respect for my father—I do not know. But all he did was convince me to go to Scotland with him.”
“That is a shocking level of betrayal,” said Elizabeth, unable to fathom the evil in a man’s heart that led him to such actions. “After everything your family has done for him.”
“It was not enough,” said Mr. Darcy quietly. “It was never enough. Wickham has always lusted for great wealth, has always resented me for being born the son of a wealthy gentleman while he was the son of a steward.”
It was all too much for Elizabeth to comprehend, though she could see something of it from Mr. Wickham’s perspective.
Carrying his grudge as he had, he no doubt saw her aversion for Mr. Darcy and had acted to poison her further against him, sinking Mr. Darcy’s reputation in the process.
Now that she thought on it, from his behavior the previous day, he had expected her to spread the story about the neighborhood and was disappointed when she did not.
Had she done so, he could have supported her account but remained above the fray, so to speak, enjoying his sense of superiority without dirtying his hands.
Then the other implications made themselves known, and Elizabeth’s eyes shot to Mr. Darcy. The sight of the man’s impassive stare provoked her to anger.
“Mr. Darcy,” said she, voice tight and controlled, “I understand your history with Mr. Wickham is not a happy one, but did you take no thought for the neighborhood? You had information that would have rendered Mr. Wickham untrustworthy, yet you withheld it. Now Mr. Wickham is welcome in every sitting-room in the district.”
As if he had expected it, Mr. Darcy sighed and shook his head. “I did not speak out for reasons I thought were good at the time, Miss Elizabeth. Last night, my sister took me to task for my blindness, and now I have cause to suppose I erred.”
“Do not concern yourself, Elizabeth,” said Georgiana. “We shall not allow Mr. Wickham to continue as he has. But I am curious—what did he tell you?”
“What I have already related,” said Elizabeth. “He spoke of the living and how Mr. Darcy had thrown him off for little more than caprice, then when I asked, he told me that you were proud and disagreeable.”
“Wickham spoke of Georgiana?” demanded Mr. Darcy.
“Only because I asked him what sort of girl she was,” said Elizabeth. “Perhaps I should not have asked, but I was curious.”
“I was not so proud and disagreeable when Mr. Wickham coveted my fortune,” said Georgiana.
“No, I do not suppose he was,” agreed Elizabeth.
“The question is, what are we to do about him?”
“I shall not allow him to continue as he has,” said Mr. Darcy. “But first, I wish to protect my sister’s reputation.”
“That is understandable,” said Elizabeth, a notion occurring to her.
“Do you have some other idea?” asked Georgiana.
“I might,” acknowledged Elizabeth. “For the moment, please leave it with me. Mr. Darcy, if you wish to speak with Colonel Forster and advise him about Mr. Wickham’s conduct, I shall not stop you. But I may have another way to ensure the entire neighborhood knows what sort of man he is.”
Though Mr. Darcy regarded her for several moments, he nodded in the end. “Then go to it, Miss Elizabeth.”