Chapter 15 #3
“Father wished for him to join the church and had planned for him to take on the living at Kympton, a village near Pemberley. Being of an age with him, I knew Wickham ought not be a clergyman. He performed poorly at university and when my father passed, he left all charade of goodness behind. Not a week later, he swaggered into my father’s study and asked what the old man had left for him.
” Darcy clenched his hand and Elizabeth gasped at the callousness of such behavior.
“My father had left him a thousand pounds and if Wickham took orders, he would receive the living at Kympton when it became available. George scoffed at this, not wanting to be a clergyman any more than I wanted him to be. He said he wished to study the law and asked for the value of the living, which he was given. I sent him on his way with three thousand pounds in addition to the legacy. I know not how he lived, but I can imagine.”
Elizabeth shook her head, shocked at Wickham’s behavior and at her own stupidity for believing him.
Had she always been so gullible? Out of a sense of solidarity and overwhelmed by her own confusion, she briefly laid her head on Darcy’s shoulder.
She had stood upright again before he could react, but he was touched by the gesture.
“A few years later, the incumbent at Kympton died and Wickham wrote asking for the living, stating that my father had wished it expressly and he knew I would not want to deny his wishes. I reminded him of our agreement and that he had already received his payment, and he returned with such language as I cannot repeat to a lady, but I am sure his anger was in direct relation to his distressed circumstances.”
“Four thousand pounds! How could he have gone through such a sum on his own? No family to care for, no house to maintain. It is so hard to believe,” Elizabeth said.
“Wickham has never had trouble spending funds, and rarely on anything useful. He has left debt and ruin everywhere he has ever been.”
Elizabeth stared wide-eyed as Darcy continued.
“I thought our paths would never cross again until last summer when he intruded upon my notice in a most grievous way. I had sent my sister to Ramsgate with her companion, a Mrs. Younge. We were sorely deceived in her character and while she had charge of my fifteen-year-old sister, she allowed Wickham access to her. He visited Ramsgate and came upon Georgiana supposedly by chance, but he and Mrs. Younge had conspired all along. He courted her, lied to her, made her believe he was in love with her and she with him, and planned to elope with her. If I had not arrived unexpectedly and surprised them, they would have succeeded with their plan. My sister would be bound for life to that blackguard and he would have her dowry of thirty thousand pounds.” He stopped talking but his body was rigid and his jaw worked, grinding his teeth painfully.
Elizabeth was exceedingly pale and felt a sick feeling in her stomach.
A liar, a seducer, a man who did not pay his debts and attempted elopements with fifteen-year-old girls!
This was the man she had called friend! The man whom she had just that morning been feeling guilty over abandoning.
How could she have been so blind? He had flattered her and preferred her, and she had believed and endorsed him.
She had slandered the good name of her own betrothed on the basis of that cur’s testimony.
She was such a simpleton! Stupid girl! She had always prided herself on her character judgments, but clearly she was the one whose character should be examined.
She withdrew from Darcy’s arm and walked down to the water, her back to him. They had long passed anyone out enjoying the weather and the only people about were some small children chasing a crab several yards away.
Darcy let her alone for a few minutes before standing behind her and placing a hand on her shoulder. “Are you well, Elizabeth?”
She released a sob and dropped her head to her hands, covering her face. Darcy immediately crossed in front of her and rubbed both her shoulders under his large hands while she shook from the strength of her weeping.
“Dearest, please.” He tried to press a handkerchief into her hands but she would not remove them from her face. Finally, feeling desperate and seeing no one about, her pulled her stiffly into his arms and rubbed her back, pressing her head onto his shoulder.
Finally, her sobs relented and she said, “How can you hold me like this? Do you not despise me, and rightly so?”
“Despise you? Why on earth would I despise you?”
“I believed him! I wanted to believe him, to satisfy my own wounded pride. I could not have been more blind!” she cried wretchedly.
He continued to console her, not knowing what to say and not fully understanding her. “Mr. Wickham is a practiced liar. Even my own excellent father believed him. You are not to blame, dearest. He has deceived many before and I fear he will continue to do so wherever he goes. It is his way.”
She sobbed again, feeling more horrible by his defense of her.
“Fitzwilliam, why are you not angry with me?” She looked at him incredulously and began pacing in front of him.
“I was so angry with you, with your ridiculous comment! I thought I did not care; I thought the opinion of a strange man should not bother me, but clearly, I have not known myself. Had I been in love I could not have been more blind. But vanity has been my folly! Oh, how vain I have been! How willfully I misunderstood you from the start.”
She continued pacing frantically, speaking to him but seemingly speaking to no one and he wondered if she had forgotten his presence.
“The things I said! I supported him! I agreed with him! I thought you proud and disagreeable, and he charming and amiable. Foolish girl!”
“Elizabeth.” She did not look up. “Elizabeth!” He had her attention. “Am I to understand that you believed Wickham because you disliked me early in our acquaintance, due to a comment I made?”
She stood stock still and pale, looking at his serious countenance and rigid posture. She could not but nod pathetically, her face tear streaked and her eyes wide and sad.
“May I ask what comment it was that set you so against me?” he asked carefully. He was terribly afraid he knew the answer, but he needed to be sure. Little did he know how prideful his features appeared at that moment, how unbending his voice sounded.
“‘She is tolerable I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me.’”
He closed his eyes as she spoke.
“And, ‘I will not waste my time with women who have been slighted by other men.’ Or something like that.” She looked down at her feet, now half wet from pacing too close to the water, and felt a curious numbness.
He rubbed a hand across his still closed eyes. “Elizabeth, I must beg your forgiveness. I should never have said such a thing and certainly not within your hearing in a ballroom. I am sure you realize by now that you tempt me quite well.”
She looked away, surprised by his response. “You are forgiven, sir. Can you find a way to forgive my ignorance and foolishness? My willful misunderstanding, as you once called it?”
He walked to her and took both her hands within his own. “Of course, my love. You are not to blame.”
“But I am!” she interjected, not willing to let herself off so easily and feeling horribly—not exactly guilty, but something near to that.
She could not let him continue to think her an innocent victim.
“I am to blame! I did not question him. If his information had come from anyone else I would have thought him too forward, but because I wanted to hear ill of you, because I was discarded by you and charmed by him, I listened to him. I was an all-too-willing participant in his plan to slander you across the country.” She dropped her head, beginning to feel exhausted.
“Mr. Darcy, I am sorry for what I have said about you in Meryton. It was unfounded and unkind and I apologize. I understand if you do not wish to see me again.”
He had been alternately confused and touched at her speech until the last. “No!”
Her head snapped up at his vehement tone.
“Miss Bennet, Elizabeth, do stop trying to cry off! Do you not understand? I want to marry you. You! I did not choose a woman from among a case at the jewelers. There is not a replacement should this one get lost.” He took her shoulders in his hands again and held her there firmly, his eyes boring into her.
“You are mine, do you understand? I have made my decision and I want you. Do stop trying to change my mind.” He spoke fervently, more passionately than she had ever heard him speak.
A smile worked its way across her face, her eyes lightening as she looked upon him, staring at her with such ferocity.
Suddenly, she threw her arms around his waist and buried her face in his coat, squeezing him tightly.
Stunned, Darcy did not know what to do but return her embrace.
He held her to him and dropped his head so it rested on top of hers, his arms pulling her impossibly closer.
They stood like this for some time until Elizabeth pulled back and looked at him shyly. He smiled at her reassuringly and offered his arm, and they made their way back to the cottage.