Chapter V #2
“Miss Elizabeth,” said he, “I would ask you to refrain from saying anything about my character; you know little about me.”
“Those are perhaps the first truthful words that have passed your lips since we became acquainted,” replied Elizabeth, her severe gaze at him never wavering. “Since you have revealed private details to a woman with whom you are scarcely acquainted, I must wonder at your character.”
“If you would know more about my character, I should be happy to reveal it.”
Mr. Wickham reached out to take her hand, but Elizabeth was too quick, pulling the appendage away before he could grasp it. Far from offended, the man only offered her a gallant bow.
“I feel a particular regard for you, Miss Elizabeth, such that I would ask for a chance to prove myself. Though I am but a poor soldier, it is said that love can conquer all, is it not?”
The audacity of the man was beyond belief. “No, Mr. Wickham, I think not. I know not what sort of woman with whom you consort, but I am not such a woman.”
“There appears some meaning in your words that you have not stated. Shall you not speak openly?”
Elizabeth offered the man a thin smile. “Nothing at all, Mr. Wickham. I am a gentleman’s daughter, and you are only the son of a steward. Unfortunate though it is for you, that is a most unequal connection. Besides, you could not support a wife as a member of a militia company.”
“Ah, then I am too poor for you.” The man put a hand over his heart. “It is the lot of a man in my position to be found wanting for his lack of wealth. Can I suppose you expect the likes of Darcy to propose to you? Would that satisfy your mercenary heart?”
“Not at all, Mr. Wickham. When I spoke of my disinclination for Mr. Darcy, I was not dissembling. All I ask is for a man my equal in society, one who can support me and our children.”
“Then you will pardon me if I doubt your abilities, Miss Elizabeth. Given the size of your father’s estate and the number of daughters he must provide for, I cannot imagine you have much of a fortune.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “You know nothing of us; we may have a wealthy relation who has provided dowries to us all.”
The way Mr. Wickham regarded her, Elizabeth was certain he was attempting to discern whether she was telling the truth.
Perhaps she should not bait him, but Elizabeth could not repent her actions.
It was nothing more than a bit of proof of the man’s mercenary ways, an irony given what he had said to her only moments before.
“If you have, then I offer my congratulations.” Mr. Wickham paused, then gave an insouciant shrug. “As there appears no chance of earning your good opinion, I shall leave you to your dowry, whatever its state, and fix my attention on other, more promising prospects.”
Elizabeth recalled the man’s sudden interest in Miss King at Lucas Lodge when the details of her inheritance became public knowledge.
“You have amused me a vast deal, Mr. Wickham.” Elizabeth fixed the man with a smirk. “After you all but accused me of mercenary tendencies, you have proven yourself nothing less than a fortune hunter.”
“Do you suppose a man must be altruistic in the search for his life’s partner?” asked Mr. Wickham. “It is the way the world works, Miss Elizabeth. A man must pay some attention to money, for to allow the violence of his feelings full sway may end in penury.”
“As must a woman,” replied Elizabeth. “I wish you well, though I do not give you much chance of success.”
“Oh?” There was an edge in Mr. Wickham’s voice now. “And why is that?”
“Only that Miss King’s uncles are reputed to be protective of their charge.”
“They will allow inclination to hold sway.”
“Perhaps. If you can keep your reputation pristine enough, they may allow a regard to grow between you.”
“If you wish to say something, I suggest you do so.” Mr. Wickham was most definitely not amused now. “Innuendo does not become you, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Not at all,” replied Elizabeth. “Enough of my friends witnessed your behavior toward me at Sir William’s party that I need do nothing. The tale will spread without my involvement, and I do so despise gossip.”
What the bounder—for that is what Elizabeth was now certain he was—meant to say would remain a mystery forever; at that moment, the door opened, and Mrs. Hill entered, leading three gentlemen.
Mr. Hurst entered first, followed by Mr. Bingley, then Mr. Darcy.
Mr. Darcy! Why in heaven’s name would that man return to Hertfordshire?
DARCY HAD NEVER BEEN to Longbourn. On the sole occasion he had set out with Bingley to call there to inquire after Miss Bennet’s health, they had encountered the Bennets on the street in the company of the detestable Wickham.
The same Wickham who was, even now, standing close to Miss Elizabeth Bennet in an attitude of confidence between those well acquainted with each other.
Had Miss Elizabeth ignored his warning the night of the ball at Netherfield?
The moment they entered, Darcy’s eyes fell on Wickham, and when he noticed Darcy, his attitude changed at once, turning flirty. Darcy watched with gritted teeth as he leaned close and whispered something to her, his hand going to her shoulder to facilitate the intimate action.
Whatever he said or the intimacy he wished to portray, it did not meet Miss Elizabeth’s approval.
The woman glared at him and stepped away, and when he followed and said something further, her temper snapped.
The slap was not forceful enough to turn Wickham’s head aside, yet it was loud enough to be heard throughout the room.
For a moment, all eyes turned to them, provoking astonished and curious looks.
Mr. Bennet—of whom Darcy had never had the highest opinion—rose at that moment and stalked toward Wickham, his face red with fury. Miss Elizabeth did not back down, standing toe to toe with the libertine, making him appear like a boy caught in a prank.
“Mr. Wickham,” growled Mr. Bennet, “I see you have said something to Elizabeth again that has provoked her reprimand. You would have done better not to come to Longbourn today.”
“I have no notion of what you mean, Mr. Bennet,” replied Wickham, all injured dignity. “I have been nothing but proper with your daughter.”
“Is that so?” asked Mr. Bennet. “More than enough of my neighbors noticed your behavior at Lucas Lodge to brand you a libertine, even if I did not trust Elizabeth’s word implicitly.”
“That was a misunderstanding.”
“Misunderstandings have followed you wherever you go, Mr. Wickham. Fortunately, they no longer need to follow you to Longbourn. I meant to do this in private to save you embarrassment, but as it appears you cannot behave properly toward Elizabeth, I no longer care for your feelings. It is time you all departed; your fellows may return if they wish, but I shall instruct my housekeeper to deny you admittance.”
“That is unnecessary, Mr. Bennet. I mean no harm.”
Were Darcy to guess, he supposed Wickham had known Mr. Bennet would tell him not to return, but he had counted on it being done in private, where it would not come to the other officers’ attention.
As usual, Wickham had acted without thinking of the consequences, resorting now to limiting the damage.
Mr. Bennet, it appeared, was not in a forgiving mood.
“I apologize, Mr. Wickham, but I cannot credit your protests. I have the testimony of others I trust, which tell me you are not a good man. You would have done well to avoid Longbourn, for you must have known I would not allow you to impose yourself on us with impunity.”
The sneer in Darcy’s direction was not a surprise. “Of course, Darcy would speak of me. It is typical for he never misses an opportunity to sully my good name.”
“On the contrary, Mr. Wickham,” said Miss Elizabeth, “Mr. Darcy has said little of you. As I recall, you have not been so circumspect about your grievances against him.”
“Perhaps we should ask Mr. Darcy for his side of your dispute,” said Mr. Bennet. “After all, by Lizzy’s testimony, you have not stinted in sharing yours.”
Darcy did not appreciate the direction this conversation had taken, though he understood it. Wickham was a millstone, and Darcy had longed to be free of him since his time at Eton. Yet he knew he needed to add testimony and did not hesitate to speak.
“Yes, I know Wickham from the time I was a child. Though we associated then, it has been many years since I have called him a friend—I am familiar with his character, which is not at all a noble one.”
“You should take care what you say, Darcy!” spat Wickham. “I have certain information that would damage your standing.”
It was a miscalculation, and Darcy saw it, though he did not suppose Wickham had just yet.
The other officers, who had been watching the scene with astonishment and perhaps a little anger at one of their own being attacked, now looked on Wickham with confusion, and perhaps even a little growing suspicion.
Darcy took the opening Wickham had granted him to ensure that everyone knew what sort of man he was.
“Speak, Wickham—I shall try my reputation and that of my family against yours at any time of your choosing. Before you presume to threaten, remember I hold enough of your debt to bury you in the Marshalsea for the rest of your miserable life.”
Wickham, as Darcy had known he would, backed down—the threat of action against him for his debts was real.
He had always counted on Darcy’s reverence for his father to deter him from acting, but even one so self-centered as Wickham must understand that any clemency Darcy might have offered expired the previous summer at Ramsgate.
“As I thought,” said Darcy, approaching and fixing his former friend with contempt. “I hope you have defied my expectations and not run up debt in Meryton, Wickham; I expect your colonel will come to me when he learns of what has happened today.”
“Mr. Darcy,” said another officer, Denny as he recalled, “I beg your pardon, but Wickham has often spoken of your offenses against him.”
Darcy glowered at Wickham, but the man appeared to understand that anything he said would serve him ill. “Yes, that is Wickham to be certain. In speaking of the living, I suppose he neglected to inform you of the three thousand pounds he accepted as compensation when he refused to take orders.”
The gasp came from Miss Elizabeth—the woman gaped at both Darcy and Wickham, a growing sense of outrage filling her. The murmuring of the officers appeared to affect Wickham, if his grimace was any sign.
“Ask Wickham where that money is now—I expect he will make some excuse, but the truth is that he can offer none that is credible.”
Darcy turned back to the officers. “Once you leave this place, I suggest you keep a close watch on Wickham. He is nothing if not predictable once his true nature is exposed. I have no doubt he will flee at the first hint of trouble. If he owes you markers, you may as well forget about ever collecting, as Wickham never considers himself honor-bound to settle them.”
That got the attention of more than one officer, proving that Wickham had followed his usual pattern.
Wickham could bear no more; growling, he turned on his heel and marched from the room.
The other officers appeared torn between staying to question Darcy further, but the need to ensure he did not flee prevailed, and they made their goodbyes before hastening from the room.
It had not been Darcy’s purpose to expose Wickham, but he could not argue with the result.
With any luck, the colonel would investigate, learn something of Wickham’s activities, and Wickham might at last experience the consequences of his actions.
Regardless, Darcy did not mean to bother himself further with Wickham, so it was of little matter other than the satisfaction Darcy would feel at his downfall.