Chapter 25 More Truths Revealed
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
MORE TRUTHS REVEALED
Darcy was acutely aware of every eye upon them throughout the Sunday service.
This was the first calling of the banns, and though his uncle had pledged his support, Darcy’s unease would not be silenced.
He could not wholly banish the fear that others—his aunt, Lady Catherine, or even Wickham himself—might attempt to interfere.
The thought of Elizabeth’s name being spoken aloud in objection before the whole parish made his stomach tighten.
He had considered purchasing a common licence to avoid such a scene, but Elizabeth had persuaded him otherwise.
Fortunately, the moment passed without incident.
No voice was raised; no challenge made. Yet Darcy could not ignore the whispers or the occasional dark glance cast in his direction from among the congregation.
By the time the service ended, he was certain that Wickham’s lies had taken firm root in Meryton’s gossip.
The man’s poison had spread more thoroughly than Darcy had feared.
The realisation weighed heavily upon him as he left the church. Elizabeth had noticed some of the looks and had done what she could to counter them, speaking warmly of him to her neighbours and encouraging him as he engaged with several of the local gentlemen.
Before they departed, Darcy requested a word with Sir William Lucas. He asked, quietly and without preamble, whether the magistrate might grant him a private audience the following day. Sir William regarded him with a sharp, assessing look before giving a brief nod of assent.
Tomorrow’s business would demand all his composure.
Darcy had come prepared, with receipts totalling more than five hundred pounds and a signed copy of the agreement in which Wickham had renounced the Kympton living.
Yet even armed with proof, he knew persuasion would require more than documents.
Reason was powerless where prejudice had already taken hold.
For his own part, Darcy cared little for what others thought of him; pride and habit had long steeled him against idle opinion.
But Elizabeth was another matter. In time she would leave Meryton behind, yet the idea of her friends and neighbours thinking ill of her because of him nettled more than he liked to admit.
Their good opinion mattered to her, and therefore, it mattered to him.
She might win them over in time—her grace would do more than any argument of his could hope to accomplish—but the burden should not fall on her alone.
It was his duty to amend the false impressions he had created and to see that truth prevailed.
Thus resolved, and armed with his proofs and a few kisses from his dear Elizabeth when they met early that morning atop Oakham Mount, Darcy called at Lucas Lodge on Monday morning, accompanied by Colonel Fitzwilliam.
He had hinted at both his visit and its purpose to Sir William the previous day, and the latter had assured him that his call would be welcome at eleven o’clock.
Punctual as ever, Darcy arrived to find not only Sir William but also Mr Philips, Elizabeth’s uncle and the local solicitor, waiting for him in the study.
“Forgive me, Mr Darcy,” Sir William said, rising to greet him.
“When you mentioned your wish to meet, I suspected the matter might be legal. I therefore asked Mr Philips to join us, thinking his counsel might prove useful. I gather you mean to address the tales Mr Wickham has been spreading about you—and that the folio you carry, as well as your cousin’s presence, are both intended to support your account? ”
Darcy inclined his head, a flicker of relief crossing his features that at least some in the neighbourhood were disposed to hear him fairly.
“You are correct on all counts, Sir William,” he said, placing his folio upon the table.
With deliberate composure, he opened it and began to present his evidence—recounting his late father’s misplaced generosity towards Wickham, the indulgences granted during their years at Cambridge, and the continued assistance rendered after his father’s death.
From there, he detailed the legacy Wickham had received and the subsequent refusal of the Kympton living, all duly recorded and witnessed.
“As you will see,” Darcy continued, unfolding the signed documents with deliberate care, “Mr Wickham was not denied the living at Kympton as he claims. He requested—and was granted—a substantial financial settlement in exchange for relinquishing his right to it. This agreement, made in writing and witnessed, included a payment of three thousand pounds, a sum more than sufficient to secure him comfort and opportunity, had he chosen to use it wisely.”
He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle before continuing.
“Instead, he squandered the entire amount within months. When the living later fell vacant, he demanded it anew, disregarding both his written renunciation and my father’s explicit wishes.
When I refused, he turned to falsehoods and insinuations to blacken my name.
That, gentlemen, is the truth of the matter.
Nor has he taken orders, as he so often implies, for he never completed his degree at Cambridge and thus could not have qualified for ordination. ”
Fitzwilliam leant slightly forwards, his tone thoughtful but edged with irony.
“As you may know, a degree is not required for a commission, but it is considered advantageous to have one. I do wonder whether he claimed to possess one when he presented himself to Colonel Forster to purchase his commission.”
Mr Philips seized upon this at once. “If that is the case, it constitutes deception—grounds for disciplinary action, perhaps even removal from the militia. It may also strengthen your position should you wish to address his debts which remain considerable. Colonel Forster, it seems, feels some misplaced loyalty and has refused to act against him.”
Darcy’s jaw tightened. “Yet the gossip at church yesterday painted me the villain.”
Sir William inclined his head gravely. “No doubt. Yet not all the talk runs against you, Mr Darcy. Some of our neighbours have suffered from Wickham’s dealings themselves, and others trust Miss Elizabeth’s judgement too well to think she would have changed her opinion of you without reason.”
A faint colour rose in Darcy’s cheeks at that.
He could not deny the truth of it—his own pride had given Wickham the advantage, and now it was Elizabeth’s steadfastness that upheld him.
He silently vowed she would never again stand alone in defending his honour, nor would he give her reason to need to do so.
“Very well, gentlemen,” Darcy said at last, his voice measured. “What course of action do you suggest?”
Sir William and Mr Philips exchanged a glance before the former replied.
“If we can keep your name from the forefront at first, I would recommend beginning with an enquiry to Colonel Forster regarding the purchases Wickham has made. If we hint at questions concerning his education—particularly the matter of his degree—it may lay the groundwork for what follows. Should the colonel prove reasonable, he may take the initiative to act against Wickham himself. If not, we must be prepared to pursue another course.”
Fitzwilliam nodded thoughtfully. “I have already written to my connexions at the War Office. When we attempted to arrange Wickham’s transfer to a regiment on the Continent, I appealed to them directly, hoping my connexions might persuade Forster to approve it.
I had not heard back before we left London, but I expect word soon.
If the transfer is sanctioned, Forster will have no choice but to comply.
” His expression hardened slightly. “I also took the liberty of apprising them of Wickham’s debts.
It may strengthen their resolve to see him sent from England’s shores. ”
The gentlemen continued their discussion for some time longer before a soft knock interrupted them. Sir William rose to answer the door and was mildly surprised to find his eldest daughter standing there, a tea tray balanced neatly in her hands.
“Mother thought your guests might care for some refreshment,” she said with a polite smile.
“Yes, thank you, Charlotte,” her father replied. “A thoughtful gesture, but I believe the gentlemen shall soon be taking their leave.”
Mr Philips drew out his pocket watch and glanced at it.
“Indeed, I must be off—I have several appointments yet to keep this afternoon,” he said, returning the watch to his waistcoat pocket.
“I thank you for the offer, Miss Lucas, but I must decline. Perhaps these gentlemen might accept, but I daresay one of them”—his eyes twinkled with good humour as he looked at Darcy—“is in rather a hurry to call at Longbourn. He has likely spared himself some mortification by spending his morning here instead of listening to my sister’s exclamations.
The entire neighbourhood is quite in raptures that the wedding is soon to take place, but even my wife confesses she is weary of hearing Mrs Bennet’s cries about her daughter’s good fortune. ”
The last remark was delivered with a chuckle and a knowing glance, and Darcy—despite himself—felt the familiar heat rise to his cheeks once more.
He could not deny the truth of it. Each time Mrs Bennet’s enthusiasm was mentioned, he was reminded anew of the scenes he had witnessed at Longbourn since his engagement—her overflowing delight, the rapid chatter, the endless talk of lace, ribbons, and wedding breakfasts.
Yet, even amid her exuberance, he found himself unable to resent her.
She was Elizabeth’s mother, after all, and in her clumsy but earnest way, she loved her daughter deeply.