Chapter 2
Parlor
The Golden Pelican
Fifteen Minutes Later
For the clientele that The Golden Pelican usually served, the parlor was probably quite luxurious, but for a young lady used to Mrs. Bennet's expensive good taste and the genteel rooms of Mrs. Phillips and Lady Lucas, the private parlor at The Golden Pelican seemed much like the stagecoach that had brought her hence.
The plain curtains, faded into a dull dun that bore only a passing resemblance to their original color, were sadly shabby, and they concealed windows that were only indifferently washed.
The furniture was old and creaked alarmingly at the slightest weight or shift, and the floors stood in sore need of a good scrubbing.
Still, the fire in the fireplace was built large and already roaring, throwing out a great heat that was very welcome after the raw chill of the courtyard.
Elizabeth had pulled a hard wooden chair close to the hearth.
Her hands were wrapped gratefully around a mug of the tea that Mr. Darcy asked to have brought to the parlor.
The tea was doing little to allay her fury against him for forcing her hand this way, for forcing his unwanted presence and conversation on her, but she had to admit the sweet, warm drink was a very pleasing familiarity after a trying morning.
Elizabeth took a sip of her tea, lowered her cup back to her lap and eyed Mr. Darcy with loathing.
He seemed supremely unaffected by her dislike, glancing towards the door as it snicked shut behind the flustered servant girl who had brought the tea.
Seeing themselves alone, he sat down on a horsehair-stuffed chair and spoke.
“Miss Bennet, I think the best thing I can do is to explain myself. Regarding my insult of your beauty at the assembly, I can only apologize profusely. I was in a foul mood and did not more than glance at you. I had no idea until a few minutes ago that you overheard my words, not that it is any excuse.”
“I see no reason for you to apologize,” Elizabeth said coldly. “It has been obvious since the day we first laid eyes on one another that you despised our little community in general and my family in particular.”
He winced openly at these words, and on an ordinary day, she might feel a twinge of regret, but this was no ordinary day.
He blew out a breath, took a sip of tea, and then turned to look directly into her eyes. “I need to speak to you of Mr. Wickham.”
“Mr. Wickham?” she repeated and laughed a trifle hysterically.
“I hardly think there is anything for you to say on that matter. Your father promised him a valuable church living, and you refused him. You have reduced him to his present state of comparative poverty. You have withheld the advantages which you must know to have been designed for him. You have deprived the best years of his life of that independence which was no less his due!”
For a moment, there was a hardness on her companion’s face, and then the master of Pemberley sighed deeply and said, “I should have explained the situation. I thought it was below me to … but it was very wrong. I see that now. It left you and the rest of Meryton prey to Wickham’s silver tongue.”
Her vision swam for a moment, and when she spoke, it was with such outrage that her voice trembled. “Silver tongue? It is not Mr. Wickham’s fault that you…”
“I assume he did not tell you that I paid him three thousand pounds to give up all rights to the Kympton living?” Darcy interrupted, his eyes narrowed.
She gasped, and stared, and shook her head. “No, that cannot be true. It cannot!”
“It is,” Darcy replied. “My father did recommend Wickham for the living at Kympton, which is worth more than three hundred pounds a year, but within six months of my father’s death, Wickham wrote to inform me that he had decided against obtaining Orders.
He had been awarded one thousand pounds in my father’s will and asked to be paid an additional sum to give up the living.
He stated that the profession did not suit him and that he preferred to study law.
I did so with alacrity, as I was in complete agreement that he ought not to be a clergyman.
I sent him three thousand pounds, along with the one thousand left to him by my father’s will.
Wickham never studied law, but he succeeded in using up the entire amount before applying to me for the Kympton living after the previous owner of the living died. Of course, I refused him.”
She felt genuinely faint now, and her heart pounded in her chest.
“I do not believe it,” she said, and her voice sounded strange in her ears.
“I have the document which both of us signed, wherein Wickham gave up the living,” Darcy said. “Moreover, a man cannot serve as a clergyman without taking Orders, a goal that cannot be reached overnight, and Wickham never made any attempt to start down that path.”
This was, without a doubt, true, and Elizabeth could not believe that she had never so much as considered that reality. It took years to obtain Orders, and Wickham had certainly not mentioned pursuing the necessary education which would permit him to serve as a parson.
She had been a complete and utter idiot, and this on top of an already terrible day caused her to lift her hands to her face and burst into sobs.
It was cathartic, in a way, because she had been holding in her anguish for many hours, but it was also extremely embarrassing in front of Mr. Darcy, of all people.
She felt something land in her lap, and the deep bass voice of her companion said, “Please take my handkerchief, Miss Bennet.”
She did so, because her own was soiled from having wiped off the seat on the stagecoach before she sat on it, and even though shame simmered in the back of her mind, she was genuinely relieved when she finally mopped her face with Darcy’s handkerchief and lifted her face. Somehow, the tears helped.
“I feel very stupid,” she said in a raspy tone. “I never questioned why Wickham had not searched for another church living.”
Darcy shook his head and said, “Do not feel stupid, please. George Wickham, who was the son of my father’s steward, is blessed with both good features and form, as well as very happy manners.
He fooled many people, including my own father, who thought the world of him.
Perhaps fortunately, Wickham never bothered to hide his more prurient activities from me, and I have known for many years that he was a seducer of innocent women and a gambler who ran up debts and did not pay them off. ”
Elizabeth shuddered. “Innocent women … no!”
“Yes,” Darcy said and straightened his back a little.
“I would not share this under most circumstances, but you need to know that the Darcy estate is supporting three women who were ruined by Wickham and gave birth to his children. Wickham refused to take responsibility for those children and denied any involvement, but these were maids and the daughters of tenants, and I believed them.”
Elizabeth stared at him in horror. “No!”
“I fear so,” he continued grimly, “and aside from those concerns, I have another powerful reason to despise the man. A few months ago, Wickham journeyed to Ramsgate, where my sister Georgiana and her companion were spending a few weeks in the sea air. Her companion, a Mrs. Younge, was in league with Wickham, and together they convinced Georgiana that she was in love with the man, whom she had fond memories of from when she was young. She agreed to an elopement in Scotland.”
“He … oh, Mr. Darcy, what happened?”
He heaved out a breath and managed a slight smile.
“By the grace of the Lord, my business in London concluded earlier than anticipated, and I rode to Ramsgate to visit my sister unexpectedly. She told me all, and I threw Wickham and Mrs. Younge from the house. Perhaps I should have done more, but I feared that my sister’s reputation would be irreparably damaged if I moved directly against him.
But without a doubt, I loathe George Wickham with every iota of my being. ”
She was suddenly nauseous, and she breathed in and out and swallowed repeatedly in an effort to keep herself and her stomach under control.
“I am sorry,” Darcy said, and now that handsome face looked genuinely apologetic. “I should not have told you everything so bluntly. It…”
“I am glad you did,” Elizabeth interrupted, her voice strange in her own ears. “May I have more tea?”
He quickly poured her more, added a lump of sugar, and handed it over. It was, Elizabeth knew vaguely, rather odd for a gentleman to pour for a lady, but she was too shocked, and horrified, and embarrassed, and shaking, that she was not certain she could pour without spilling.
Two minutes passed in silence as Elizabeth drank more tea, and Darcy watched her, until finally the gentleman said gently, “Miss Bennet, would you please tell me what you are doing here in London alone?”
Elizabeth leaned back in her chair, suddenly exhausted and totally overwhelmed.
It had been hard enough to flee her home in the wee hours of the morning, harder still to be rejected by her parents, and now to learn that Wickham, whom she had thought the very best of men, was a scoundrel, seemed too much.
“Miss Bennet,” Darcy prompted in a gentle tone.
She looked up at him and sighed deeply. He did not deserve an explanation, of course, but he had seen her, and it appeared obvious that if she did not explain the situation, he would tell her father where she was, which would make it far more difficult to hide.
“I ran away this morning from Longbourn because my parents are insisting that I marry my cousin, Mr. Collins,” she said baldly.
To her surprise, an expression of revulsion filled Mr. Darcy’s features, and he said, “Marry Mr. Collins? No!”