Chapter 15 #3
“I will not trust myself on the subject,” replied Wickham; “I can hardly be just to him.” He could not believe how easily the Bennet chit was buying what he was selling.
Elizabeth was again deep in thought, and after a time exclaimed, “To treat in such a manner the godson, the friend, the favourite of his father!” She could have added, ‘A young man, too, like you, whose very countenance may vouch for your being amiable and honest’—but she contented herself with, “and one, too, who had probably been his companion from childhood, connected together, as I think you said, in the closest manner!”
“We were born in the same parish, within the same park; the greatest part of our youth was passed together, inmates of the same house, sharing the same amusements, objects of the same parental care. My father began life in the profession which your uncle, Mr Phillips, appears to do so much credit to—but he gave up everything to be of use to the late Mr Darcy and devoted all his time to the care of the Pemberley property. He was most highly esteemed by Mr Darcy, a most intimate, confidential friend. Mr Darcy often acknowledged himself to be under the greatest obligations to my father’s active superintendence, and when, immediately before my father’s death, Mr Darcy gave him a voluntary promise of providing for me, I am convinced that he felt it to be as much a debt of gratitude to him as of his affection to myself. ”
“How strange!” cried Elizabeth. “How abominable! I wonder that the very pride of this insufferable man has not made him just to you! If from no better motive, than he should not have been too proud to be dishonest—for dishonesty I must call it.”
“It is wonderful,” replied Wickham, “for almost all his actions may be traced to pride, and pride has often been his best friend. It has connected him nearer with virtue than with any other feeling. But we are none of us consistent, and in his behaviour to me there were stronger impulses even than pride.”
“Can such abominable pride as his have ever done him good?”
“Yes. It has often led him to be liberal and generous, to give his money freely, to display hospitality, to assist his tenants, and relieve the poor. Family pride and filial pride—for he is very proud of what his father was—have done this. Not to appear to disgrace his family, to degenerate from the popular qualities, or lose the influence of the Darcy name is a powerful motive. He also has brotherly pride, which, with some brotherly affection, makes him a very kind and careful guardian of his sister, and you will hear him generally cried up as the most attentive and best of brothers.”
“What sort of girl is Miss Darcy?”
He shook his head. “I wish I could call her amiable. It gives me pain to speak ill of a Darcy, but she is too much like her brother—very, very proud. As a child, she was affectionate and pleasing and extremely fond of me; I devoted hours and hours to her amusement. But she is nothing to me now. She is a handsome girl, about fifteen or sixteen, and, I understand, highly accomplished. Since her father’s death, her home has been London, where a lady lives with her and superintends her education. ”
After many pauses and many trials of other subjects, Elizabeth could not help reverting once more to discuss Mr Darcy.
“I am astonished at his intimacy with Mr Bingley! How can Mr Bingley, who seems good humour itself and is, I really believe, truly amiable, have such a man as his friend? How can they suit each other? Do you know Mr Bingley?”
“Not at all.”
“He is a sweet-tempered, amiable, charming man. He cannot know what Mr Darcy is.”
“Probably not; but Mr Darcy can please where he chooses. He does not want abilities. He can be a conversable companion if he thinks it worth his while. Among those who are at all his equals in consequence, he is a very different man from what he is to the below him. His pride never deserts him; but with the those of his own circle he is liberal-minded, just, sincere, rational, honourable, and perhaps agreeable—allowing something for fortune and figure.”
Elizabeth missed the lie in Mr Wickham’s words seeing that Mr Bingley was the son of a tradesman.
She was too outraged at what she had been told to consider any of the inconsistencies and contradictions.
The most glaring was Mr Wickham saying he could not dishonour his late godfather by speaking ill of the son, and then doing so.
He had confirmed her feelings about Mr Darcy, that was all she saw.
Mr Wickham stood, bowed, and took his leave. He nodded to the other two officers, and they followed him out of the house. Elizabeth went to join her sisters, her mind full of the damning testimony against the hateful Mr Darcy.
Soon after the officers departed, the card party concluded. Based on the report at the whist table, Mr Collins had boasted he could play better than he could; he lost every point. He claimed the amount he lost was a trifling amount, although he did not look very sanguine about it.