Parlour
“Mr Darcy, what did you do to our dear Mr Wickham? Papa says he was a scoundrel, but he told me all about you, and I believe you just wanted him out of the way.”
Anne liked to keep Ellen Taylor in the group as well, though Mrs Bennet found it odd.
Anne explained it as a need to train Ellen as a lady’s maid, but Darcy knew she did it merely to converse with him about Robert Breton.
There had already been quite a few stories about the childhood companions, inevitably mentioning Wickham, usually in a negative light.
Having conversed quietly with Miss Taylor for some time, Darcy had almost forgotten the youngest Bennet sister before the interruption.
Seeing no help for it, he asked, “Why do you think that, Miss Lydia? Do you trust Mr Wickham over your own father?”
“You should ask Lizzy. He told her about the living you denied him. He gave all the particulars: dates, places, everything. Had he the promised living, he would not be incurring debts.”
“Yes, that is true, but did you ever consider that perhaps he did not want the living my father so generously provided?”
“Why would someone not want a good competence? I mean, a clergyman is nothing to an officer, but it is a good situation. Who would decline it?”
“Who indeed, Miss Lydia. Who indeed!”
Making no headway, Darcy decided to take another tack.
“Do you truly want to know, or just want to tweak my nose? I am content either way, as I could use a bit of nose tweaking from time to time, but I would like to know how best to answer your query.”
For the first time in their acquaintance, Lydia Bennet ceased giggling long enough to give him a long, searching look.
Finally satisfied with her scrutiny, she replied, “I should like to know. It seems the two of you switched characters. First, he was amiable, and you were disagreeable. Now you seem amiable while he is judged disagreeable. Which is true?”
Darcy laughed. “I hope our true characters are revealing themselves. Perhaps I can alleviate some of your confusion. Would a small lesson in life be acceptable? I promise, you can disregard it as much as you like.”
“If it is interesting.”
“Very well, let us make it interesting. May I assume you know what a hypothetical is?”
“Of course! I am not as stupid as I seem; and besides, Lizzy badgers us constantly about our vocabulary, so it is best to at least know what words mean,” she replied, making it sound like Elizabeth made them scrub their own pots.
“Very well, let us use a hypothetical. Imagine a young lady. We shall hypothetically call her ‘Miss Linda.’ Now, Miss Linda hypothetically met a man clandestinely—alone. We could call this man ‘Captain Carson,’ and perhaps put their imaginary meeting place in a meadow much like the one between the live oak on the western border of Longbourn and the Jamison barn. Entertaining enough?”
All the ladies stared at him, but Lydia stared daggers and clenched her fist.
Unintimidated by a potential future tantrum, Darcy continued.
“Now, let us say that ‘Miss Linda’ wished to conceal this improper meeting with a lie. Now comes the lesson. Should she say she passed by that field on the way to Meryton and perhaps saw a redcoat but did not talk to him; or should she say she visited her good friend Miss Mason in Luger Lodge; or should she say she visited her Uncle Farrier in Town?”
Darcy sat back. Lydia turned several shades of red and white, unable to speak a word. After allowing her a minute to think, he asked, “Well, Miss Lydia, what lie do you recommend for ‘Miss Linda’?”
Lydia looked about for help, but finally said, “I imagine she could either tell the truth, or the first choice; she saw him but did not talk to him.”
“Why?”
Lydia looked frightened. “Because it is closest to the truth. She is less likely to get caught.”
“Exactly!” Darcy said, leaning forward. “That is precisely what Mr Wickham does, but he has practised spinning lies with all the appearance of truth since we were small boys. Neither you nor Miss Elizabeth should feel chagrined about misunderstanding him. The man has a talent for lying sufficient that he kept my father convinced of his good nature until his death, and my father was no green boy.”
Lydia looked half-frightened and half-confused. “So, you claim everything he said is a lie?”
“Not all, but he never speaks without looking for his own advantage. He knows to sprinkle enough truth to cover the lies. For example, my father did recommend him for a living in his will, and I did deny him the living. That much is true. What it leaves out is that three years before the denial, he asked me to help him study the law because he was not at all interested in sermons. He asked and I granted three thousand pounds in exchange for signing away the rights to the living, in addition to the thousand pounds given to him outright in my father’s will.
He squandered four thousand pounds in three years.
Have you any idea how much money that is? ”
Lydia shook her head. “I do not understand money.”
Darcy looked to Ellen Taylor, and as hoped, she stepped into the breach.
“Miss Lydia, I was a maid of all work in your uncle’s house.
He pays very well; the most generous employer I know.
I had my own room, board, and thirty pounds per annum, which is much more than most servants get.
Downstairs maids usually only get ten. Mr Darcy gave Mr Wickham the amount I would earn in a hundred years of working all day, every day, in exchange for the living. ”
Lydia looked sufficiently shocked, and Darcy continued.
“Had he put that money in the four per cents,” Darcy added, “he would have drawn a hundred and sixty pounds per annum. He could have a modest house and two or three servants until the end of his life. It is less money than a living, which generates around five hundred pounds, but quite enough to live comfortably with several children. Or, he could have studied the law as he indicated he wished. He would make a phenomenal barrister if he ever applied himself. That glib tongue could make him untold wealth, honestly earned. However, he chose to throw it all away in gambling, at which he is woefully unskilled, and seducing na?ve women, like ‘Miss Linda.’”
Ellen Taylor leaned forward. “I seen the like before. They’re nothin’ but trouble.”
Anne joined the fray. “Miss Lydia, may I ask you something blunt? Do you think you are a valuable person? Are you worthy of a decent man with a good competence?”
Lydia answered with a burst of anger that Darcy and Anne were happy to see. “Of course I am!”
Not to be outdone, Anne matched her tone for tone.
“So why would you consider, even for a moment, throwing away your virtue on a redcoat without two farthings to rub together? That is the inevitable outcome if you follow your current course. Captain Carter is no different from Mr Wickham, and there will be dozens waiting behind him.”
Lydia fumed, though at least silently.
Jane spoke gently, “They are right, Liddy. That is what the rules of propriety are for. They seek to protect us. They cannot save us from everything in the world, and especially from our own foolishness; but if we follow the rules, they will protect us from the most common mistakes. To some extent, they protect us from ourselves, if we will only follow the sensible parts. You need not follow every dictate slavishly, but at least follow those that support self-preservation. You may laugh and have fun—we will not censure you for that—but pray, Lydia, do not put yourself and your sisters at risk for a few moments’ diversion.
Any man worth knowing will respect you and follow the rules. ”
Judging the lesson learned as well as it was likely to be, Darcy said, “Of course, Miss Linda’s story never happened. After all, it was entirely hypothetical, and I made the whole thing up.”
Lydia sighed heavily and beamed at him. “I thank you, sir. You have a way of speaking that makes sense. You are halfway through; shall we finish?”
Darcy regarded her with befuddlement; Anne came to his aid.
“William, she means you explained Mr Wickham, but not your own change.”
Uncertain he wished to be explicit, he prevaricated, until Anne took pity on him.
“Miss Lydia, you operate under a misconception. May I answer for my cousin?”
Lydia giggled and nodded; all harmony restored.
“You mistake manners for character, a common error. My cousin’s character is sterling. He is fair in his dealings, and charitable to those in need. That is his character. That is fixed and immutable.”
Lydia stared at him, seemingly weighing the truth. Anne allowed her a moment to absorb the notion before continuing.
“What he presents to the world is his manners, and I must admit that for most of his life, they have been atrocious.”
Lydia giggled, while Darcy laughed but said nothing. Far be it from him to correct his cousin’s narrative.
“Not only are his manners the exact opposite of the unlamented Mr Wickham, but he has been hunted by every fortune-hunting debutante in England since he came of age. Imagine if every unpleasant man you ever met vied for your attention every day of your life, until you could not distinguish the good from the bad. Then imagine that continuing for a decade. He has been avoiding entanglements since you were five years old. Perhaps you might show him some clemency.”
To Darcy’s surprise, Lydia sat preternaturally still for at least a minute, staring at him. Her face twisted in confusion, and she finally said, “Five years old, you say. A decade. Have there been a lot of Miss Bingleys?”
“More than I can count.”
“Well, I understand half of it now.”
He raised his eyebrows and nodded for her to continue.
“I now understand your old manners, but your current ones—”
Her face contracted again, but then dawning comprehension appeared, and he had to admit that Miss Lydia looked quite pretty when she did not giggle.
He saw the echo of her sisters in her countenance and wondered what she would be like with more age and experience.
Perhaps a few months under Mrs Annesley’s guidance would not go amiss.
Miss Lydia smiled and laughed lightly. “I see it now; it is all so obvious!”
“Pray, enlighten us.”
She giggled again. “You have right here in this parlour three women who not only do not fawn over you, but all seem ready to rap your knuckles with a ruler if you step out of line. I imagine there is only one other woman who treats you like that. Were you ever going to tell us that you are here pretending to protect your cousin, who obviously does not need it, merely so you could wait for Lizzy to return?”
Darcy laughed uneasily, regarding her with consternation.
“I shall answer your question, Miss Lydia, but I must demand you keep our confidence. Your sister’s reputation, and in turn yours, could be harmed by what I tell you.”
“I swear on my honour. I will not even tell Kitty.”
“I proposed to your sister, and I await an answer.”
Lydia’s mouth hung open in surprise for a moment, and then her face turned into a smile that lit up the room. “What did she say to you?”
With a sinking feeling of familiar dread, Darcy replied, “She did not say a single word. She just left the room, got on the first outbound coach, and has been hiding from me for a month.”
Lydia laughed gaily. “That is for the best. She would have set the room ablaze if she started talking. I assume my father told you by now that she does not esteem you.”
“I have been made aware. I have work to do.”
“I take back everything I ever said about you. You are not the least bit disagreeable, once you get past that thick skin. You will make a good brother… if you survive… eventually.”
With another laugh, Lydia jumped from the sofa and dragged Ellen off to trim bonnets, or learn about dressing Anne, or some such matter, while Jane, Anne, and Darcy breathed a sigh of relief.