Choices
Chapter 8
For the better part of 1809, after the horrific battle of Talavera, Elizabeth and her friends remained yet again behind with the injured, seeing to their healing and helping to organize their leaving of the area as soon as it could be contrived to do so safely for the wounded.
Elizabeth’s nightmares did not fully go away but they were less frequent and less disturbing, as if time had softened the very acute pain, replacing it with a much duller yet more persistent one, and with a great love, respect and gratefulness towards those brave souls who died in the service of their country. Just like she made peace with the debacle at Longbourn, she now somehow managed to put Talavera behind her.
Since then, there had been a few minor conflagrations she was part of, but nothing compared to that horror.
The September of 1810 found them all encamped some five miles from La Bisbal. Elizabeth yet again shared a tent with Rose and they spent the afternoon after arriving in the little village making their new ‘home’ cosy, chatting happily.
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Elizabeth very much liked the new English Colonel who joined the camp with his troops a week after their arrival there. He was a very personable and dashing young man, especially when attired in his dress uniform, which he donned for the first dinner after he arrived.
“Elizabeth my dear, let me introduce to you Col. Richard Fitzwilliam, the commander of the dragoon brigade. Col. Fitzwilliam, this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet, one of our brightest nurses” Dr. Murphy smiled at her.
“A pleasure to meet you, sir” Elizabeth smiled impishly at the new man, a faint blush suffusing her cheeks at the doctor’s praise. “I assume you have heard of the beauty of this quaint little sea-side resort and you decided to come for a vacation?”
“Indeed, Madam” Col. Fitzwilliam chuckled at her teasing, “but I was not aware of what a pleasant society I was to meet here. I am most delightfully surprised.”
“Well done, sir” Elizabeth laughed openly. “I have to admit that I have rarely been among such high-quality people as I am in this camp, and that includes most of the enlisted men too” she said more seriously.
By the end of the dinner during which they discussed the advancement of Col. Schwartz and the likelihood of an attack from those quarters, Col. Fitzwilliam was completely enchanted by the lovely Miss Bennet, or Miss Elizabeth as she insisted to be addressed as. She was the first woman whom he looked at with true admiration. Her bubbly personality, her wit and intelligence, her lack of any affectation and airs combined with her well informed mind, perfect ladylike demeanour and exquisite loveliness made her the most genuinely attractive woman he had ever met.
He also had noticed the obvious affection and respect that she was held in by his other dinner companions and the respect which in turn she was showing to them. His thoughts went to his cousin and best friend, Darcy. While he admitted to himself that Miss Elizabeth’s independent spirit and unusual intelligence were a bit too intimidating to him, he thought her perfect for his solemn but erudite cousin. She would draw out the shy and introverted man and challenge him on every level. He wished he could introduce them to each other. Perhaps, after the fight was over and they both returned to England, God willing, he might have a chance to do just that.
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“Mr. Wickham to see you, sir” Cornwell, Darcy House’s butler announced, watching with a disapproving frown the young man who swaggered into his master’s study as if he owned it.
“Darce, old chap!” Wickham exclaimed genially, advancing towards the desk behind which his former childhood friend sat reading some papers and looked up with undisguised displeasure at the interruption. Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy was a young man of six and twenty and, judging by the frown marring his handsome features, he was not at all pleased to see his visitor.
“Wickham” the gentleman spat the name. “I thought that I was very clear that I did not wish to see you ever again, when we last met.”
“Oh come now Darce, you cannot turn your back on your oldest friend.”
“My oldest ‘friend’ never existed, a thing that I became painfully aware of when we went to Cambridge” Darcy sneered.
“Your father loved me!” Wickham snarled.
“He liked you because he valued your father very much, he was amused by you and fortunately he was not aware just how degenerate you truly are” Darcy turned away with disgust, memories of the cruelty and debauchery the man had displayed during their time at school flashing in front of his eyes.
“I hear that the living in Kympton fell vacant” Darcy’s unfazed visitor grinned widely, deciding not to force the issue of friendship since Darcy did not seem to be in a nostalgic mood, and nonchalantly threw himself in the comfortable chair in front of the enormous desk.
“The living is no longer vacant. I granted it to Rev. Clarkson only two days ago.”
“That was to be my living!” Wickham sat up with obvious displeasure.
“Indeed it was supposed to be, with the condition that you take orders which you vehemently repudiated not quite four years ago and as far as I know, you are still not ordained. In addition to that, there is the fact that you requested and have been granted three thousand pounds in lieu of the living after my father passed away. I have the papers you signed, renouncing all claims to the living in exchange for the cash, in case your memory is faulty.”
“That living is worth much more than that and you know it! You cheated me!” Wickham yelled.
“The living is not worth half that amount as you very well know” Darcy replied calmly. “You have been more than adequately compensated.”
Darcy still could not understand why his father refused to see the faults in Wickham’s behaviour. True, Wickham’s father had been a great asset to Pemberley, especially after his mother, Lady Anne Darcy died and his father lost all interest in almost everything, but the son was nothing like his father had been.
He and young Wickham, almost of the same age, grew up together but even as a young child Wickham proved to be devious and manipulative. Each and every time Darcy got into trouble as a child, it was of Wickham’s engineering. Yet, Wickham always managed to wriggle his way out of trouble avoiding punishment and, more often than not, being even praised for his actions as he managed to make himself look either a victim or a saviour of some kind. Darcy did not mind it too much until they went to Cambridge. Mr. Darcy insisted on educating his godson, his much valued steward’s son, as he would a younger son intending for him to be able to acquire a good profession.
It was when they were away from Pemberley and their fathers’ watchful eyes that Darcy discovered the real depth of Wickham’s depravity. He had tried to shield his father as much as he could of his protégée’s despicable character by cleaning up the messes which Wickham left behind, but he did try to hint to his father that Wickham needed closer supervision. “He is just a little wild, like many young men of his age tend to be” Mr. Darcy smiled fondly. “With age, maturity will come” his father would say dismissively. “Come now, tell me about that chess game you had with Lord Gavin...”
“Darce, I need money” Wickham’s tone took up a pleading quality.
“Of course you do. You always do” Darcy scoffed.
“This time it is very serious. I owe money to some very tough guys and…”
“Are you trying to tell me that you squandered away four thousand pounds in less than four years?” Darcy asked incredulously, as in addition to the three thousand pounds that he had paid him in lieu of the living, Wickham had received another thousand pounds bequeathed to him by his godfather in his will. “And even more by the sound of it, as apparently you are again deep in debt.”
“I had a run of bad luck and…”
“If you think that I am going to finance your vices Wickham, you are very much mistaken.”
“I am desperate Darce! For the sake of our friendship…”
“That is a thing of the past and it was a lie even then. I will help you out this last time but…” Wickham’s smug smirk greatly irritated Darcy. “You will either join the army or go to debtors’ prison” Darcy finished his sentence.
“Army?! We are at war for God’s sake! You cannot expect me to join the army” Wickham spluttered.
“It is debtors’ prison then” Darcy said dispassionately. “I have your debts and vowels for close to five thousand pounds. I do not know what you owe to these ‘tough guys’ you mention but I am sure it is no trifle. I can easily have you locked away for the rest of your life.”
“You would never do that to me ” Wickham smirked. “Your respect of your father’s memory will not let you.”
“I probably would have not, had I not had the most interesting interview with a ‘lady’ ” Darcy spat the word “who applied for the position of becoming Miss Darcy’s companion. She had the most stellar recommendations. What a pity that they all turned out to be fake.” Darcy smirked while Wickham paled. “Unfortunately for you, one of her recommendation letters looked vaguely familiar. The one from Lord Egerton. Besides the fact that he is probably two hundred years old and it is a very long time since his daughters needed a companion, his handwriting looked so familiar that I could have sworn that it was yours. Of course, this prompted me to take a much closer look at Ms. Younge’s recent employments. I am sure that it will be of no surprise to you that she is running a brothel, one that you seem to patronise quite steadily.”
“Dottie is just a friend and…”
“And you two thought it would be quite the lark to have a Madame become the companion of Miss Darcy of Pemberley, did you not?” Darcy roared. “I will not even try to guess the reasons behind this little scheme of yours. Suffice it to say, this latest stunt of yours effaces any remnants of friendship I may have felt for you. So the choice is yours Wickham. Debtors’ prison, the army or just face those ‘friends’ of yours who seem to be out for your flesh?”
“The army” Wickham groaned after a long pause.
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Lucas Lodge was full of guests. Sir William was happily flitting from one group to another, ensuring they were all well supplied with refreshments and enjoyed themselves.
“I can only imagine what Mr. Darcy’s censure of such an insufferable gathering as this would be” Miss Caroline Bingley murmured into her sister’s ear with a sneer, as they stood by one of the windows, several feet apart from the rest of the other guests who did not even attempt to engage the two ‘superior’ sisters into any kind of interaction.
Reluctant as they were to mingle with Hertfordshire’s society, it quite escaped the two ladies’ notice that nobody tried to approach them, let alone try to engage them into a conversation. The only thing that stroked them as peculiar was that, contrary to what they were used to see in the ton and what they themselves were known to be doing whenever in presence of those whose favour they wished to curry, no one tried to ingratiate themselves with them by fawning and flattering them.
The truth was that Meryton’s society very soon dismissed the ladies of Netherfield as puffed up peacocks, especially after the intelligence that, despite all the airs they gave themselves, they were nothing more than the daughters of a very wealthy tradesman made the rounds of the local parlours. Mr. Hurst was equally dismissed as a man with no conversation whatsoever, who was only interested in food and drink. The only member of the Netherfield party who was genuinely liked in Meryton was Mr. Bingley.
Bingley was standing next to Miss Bennet, enjoying her conversation and her sweet blushes. He had not expected to meet such a beautiful and gentle lady in the backwaters of Hertfordshire and he was totally enchanted by her. Even though his friend Darcy’s words of caution about fortune hunters and mercenary matrons rang clear in his mind, he was thinking that maybe, once he came to know her better, she might prove to be the one for him, despite the fact that his sisters completely dismissed all of Meryton’s society as being beneath their notice.
Just then, Mrs. Bennet’s shrill voice reached them, causing poor Jane’s cheeks to take up a deeper hue of pink than they held before.
“… as good as engaged, mark my words. Why, he danced two times with her already and he has five thousand a year!” Mrs. Goulding with whom Mrs. Bennet was talking murmured something that they did not hear but Mrs. Bennet shrieked with laughter. “Oh, do not be silly! Of course Jane will do her duty, unlike that horrid sister of hers! And then she will be able to throw the other girls in the path of rich men!”
Jane saw Bingley stiffen and his cheeks redden. “Miss Bennet” he bowed his head. “It has been a great pleasure enjoying your company. If you will excuse me, I believe I need to seek out Lady Lucas as I am afraid it is time for my party to return to Netherfield.”
Jane smiled serenely and curtsied graciously, while she was deeply mortified by her mother’s behaviour and vulgarity. She knew that Mr. Bingley was offended by her mother’s words and that even if there had ever been a chance for them to get to know each other better, maybe even fall in love and marry, it was now completely obliterated. Mrs. Bennet saw to it.
The next morning Mrs. Philips brought them the news that the Netherfield party had quit the manor and there was no word as to when, or even if they might return.