Chapter Eighteen
Wickham Pushes Back
Wickham did not enjoy losing control of the story.
He had expected Meryton to love him.
Meryton did, at first. Mrs. Phillips called him the handsomest officer she had ever seen.
Lydia discussed him at breakfast for three consecutive mornings.
Several young men admired his easy manners, and even Mr. Bennet admitted that Wickham possessed the useful talent of being entertaining without requiring others to work for it.
But Darcy had been there first.
A Darcy who danced. Called upon neighbors. Spoke civilly to tradesmen. Supported a local tenant's widow after a barn fire. Did not sneer at the militia. Did not act as though every person outside Derbyshire had been invented to inconvenience him.
So when Wickham hinted at mistreatment, people listened politely rather than hungrily.
Sir William said, "Strange. Darcy has always spoken correctly to me."
Mr. Goulding said he had heard something about debts in Derbyshire.
Colonel Forster watched him.
Wickham noticed.
He approached Elizabeth one afternoon in Meryton after Kitty and Lydia had gone ahead to inspect ribbons in a shop window.
"You seem determined to dislike me, Miss Elizabeth."
Elizabeth stopped. "I do not know you well enough."
"You know Darcy."
"Somewhat."
His smile sharpened. "More than somewhat, I think."
Elizabeth's skin chilled. "What do you mean?"
"He looks at you as though you belong to him."
Anger rose. She controlled it. "I belong to myself."
"Of course."
His tone suggested indulgence.
Elizabeth remembered why she had once been charmed. Wickham made agreement feel like intimacy and disagreement feel like a misunderstanding he could resolve with one smile.
"I only hope," he continued, "that you understand the character of the man you trust."
Elizabeth met his eyes. "Do you?"
His smile faded. "Better than most."
"So do I."
For a moment something dangerous appeared.
Then Darcy's voice came from behind her. "Elizabeth."
Not Miss Elizabeth.
Elizabeth.
Wickham heard.
Darcy realized too late. His face hardened.
Wickham smiled. "Interesting."
Darcy stepped beside Elizabeth. "Go."
Wickham laughed. "Still issuing orders."
Darcy did not rise to the bait. "Colonel Forster has received another letter concerning your gaming debts."
Wickham's color changed.
Darcy continued, "Your creditor in Derby has sold the note."
"To you?"
"No."
Wickham blinked.
Darcy almost smiled. "I thought you might suspect that."
Wickham looked from him to Elizabeth. "You have been busy."
"Yes."
"What do you want?"
"Nothing."
That unsettled him.
Darcy continued calmly, "Leave the Bennet girls alone."
Elizabeth glanced at him.
Wickham laughed. "There it is."
Darcy's jaw tightened. "Not because they are mine to command. Because Lydia Bennet is fifteen and you are nearly twice her age."
Wickham's smile vanished.
Elizabeth's throat tightened.
Old Darcy might have made it about honor, reputation, or what was due a gentleman's family. This Darcy made it plain.
Wickham walked away.
Elizabeth waited until he was gone, then turned and hit Darcy's arm.
He stared. "What?"
"You used my name."
"I know."
"He noticed."
"I know."
She hit him again.
Darcy caught her hand. "You have become violent."
"You deserved it."
"Probably."
She glared.
Then laughed.
Darcy smiled.
Across the street Mrs. Phillips saw everything.
By dinner, Meryton had decided Mr. Darcy was courting Elizabeth Bennet.
For once the gossip was accurate.
Wickham's reduced influence did not make him harmless. He began borrowing from officers who had not heard the Derbyshire reports and gambling in smaller houses where Colonel Forster's warnings carried less weight. Darcy learned of it through a Meryton tradesman whose account went unpaid.
Rather than settle the debt, as he had sometimes done in his youth to avoid scandal attaching itself to Pemberley, Darcy introduced the tradesman to a solicitor.
Bingley was astonished. "You could pay it in five minutes."
"Yes."
"Then why not?"
"Because Wickham would owe me instead of learning that debts have consequences."
Bingley considered. "That sounds severe."
"It is."
"And fair?"
Darcy paused. "I hope so."
The younger Darcy would have said yes without hesitation.
Bingley noticed the difference. "You aren't certain."
"No."
"Good."
Darcy frowned. "Why is everyone pleased when I am uncertain?"
Bingley grinned. "Because certainty makes you frightening."
The unpaid account became known quietly. Wickham's charm remained, but credit tightened. He blamed Darcy, naturally, yet there was no grand confrontation for the neighborhood to enjoy.
Elizabeth found the lack of drama satisfying.
"I thought you enjoyed drama," Darcy said when she told him.
"Only when it happens to other people."
"A noble distinction."
"Thank you."
Wickham's final months in Hertfordshire therefore became less a catastrophe than a gradual narrowing of options. Men who once lent freely asked for repayment. Young women heard enough conflicting stories to be cautious. Colonel Forster assigned duties that limited idle days in Meryton.
The world did not expose Wickham in one magnificent scene.
It simply stopped making his behavior easy.
Darcy thought that might be more effective.