Chapter Three #2
“I hardly know,” Darcy replied. “She keeps to her rooms or plays her pianoforte for hours. Her new companion, Mrs. Annesley has had little success drawing her out. I had hoped that the presence of another female would help her along, but Georgiana still does not wish to speak of the events of the summer. Thus, I find myself here, a guest of my friend, Charles Bingley. I do not think my presence has been helping matters. She needs time to nurse her broken heart, so to speak, and to reflect on her near escape.”
Wickham privately thought that in addition to a broken heart that perhaps Georgiana might be somewhat angry with her brother for foiling her plans.
Girls of her age easily thought themselves in love and Miss Darcy might perhaps blame her brother for her current heart break.
“Does she know of my involvement in her rescue?” George asked.
Darcy nodded. “On the journey from Ramsgate, she asked me how I had come to be there so many days early. I spoke to her of your letter. I had not intended to change my plans based solely on your correspondence, but I found as the days passed that I could not make myself ignore it. I had to see for myself that Georgiana was well. I am very grateful that I did.”
Darcy rubbed his hands over his face. “I have always shouldered my responsibilities without complaint,” said he. “I find, however, that this latest event in a long line of trials has me feeling somewhat resentful of my position and duties.”
Wickham nodded gravely. “My father spoke to me of the trials you would face someday, all those years ago,” he related. “I admit, I had never considered the struggles you would encounter up until that very moment. His words went a long way to erasing the bitter jealousy I felt toward you, you know.”
Darcy raised his brows. “I had no idea you felt that way. If I did, I would have been quick to point out the relative freedom you have compared to me.”
“My father did just that. I do not believe I will ever forget his words that day. It was at his insistence that I give the church a try. ‘How do you know it would not suit,’ he asked me, ‘unless you try?’ His words have guided me through my life these last years.”
Darcy nodded. “I am relieved to be proven wrong about your character, George. I have missed this...camaraderie. No one else in my life knows me as well as you do. No one else is brave enough to point out my faults and flaws, either.”
Wickham smiled. “In all fairness, you had every reason to doubt me, given my prior behavior. I have missed our friendship as well. And as for your flaws, well, I shall continue to point them out. You may not escape it now that we have reconciled!”
Darcy returned his smile and the two ventured back out into the bright sunlight. Darcy’s face was more relaxed than it had been and there was a lightness about him that drew the eyes of passersby.
They rejoined the blond man Wickham now knew to be called Bingley and the Bennet ladies.
After Darcy introduced George to his friend’s notice, he and Bingley parted ways from the rest of the group.
As the gentlemen returned to their mounts, Lydia Bennet pushed past her sisters to claim Wickham’s arm.
The girl was quite pretty, taller than her sisters and with a womanly figure to be admired.
Her dress was cut far too low for daytime, however, and although her bonnet was pretty, it was somewhat ostentatiously adorned.
He surmised her to be seventeen or eighteen years of age.
Her grip on his arm was tight, bordering on possessive.
Her sister Catherine took up his other arm and Wickham had the distinct feeling of being the rope in a tug-of-war game.
“Tell me, Mr. Wickham,” Miss Lydia said. “Why do you settle for being a lowly solicitor’s clerk rather than an officer? Indeed, I stand by what I said earlier; you would look dashing in a red coat.”
“I find the work as a clerk interesting, Miss Lydia. The pay is also exceptionally better than that of a militia officer. Why, if I were an officer, I could scarcely afford to marry and have a family anytime soon.”
Wickham was aware that Miss Lydia’s questions were highly improper and sought to change the subject. “Meryton seems to be a lovely town. Can you tell me of any shops I might be inclined to visit during my stay here?”
“Oh, I absolutely adore the haberdashery!” Miss Lydia exclaimed enthusiastically.
“Mrs. Jameson has the most exquisite ribbons from London. Why, just last week I purchased the most divine lavender ribbon to go with my favorite day dress. Of course, Kitty was absolutely livid because she saw it first, but I simply had to have it. Mama said it would look prettier on me and that Kitty had better let me have it. Kitty was furious, but of course Mama was right. Lavender simply does not look as well on my sister.”
The girl had scarcely paused to take a breath before she was off again, detailing the argument the two sisters had engaged in and Miss Lydia’s satisfaction that she had gotten her own way.
Wickham was only half listening at that point, and he wondered idly if anyone had bothered to point out to the young lady how unattractive her behavior was.
If they had, Wickham highly doubted that the girl had listened, let alone taken anything to heart.
Miss Lydia did not pause the stream of words flowing from her mouth until they reached the door of a modest establishment at the end of the row of shops on the principal street in Meryton.
There were two doors on the front of the building.
The one on the end had no adornment on it, save for a knocker.
This was the door the group approached. Before they could knock, it was thrown open.
A plump, rosy-cheeked woman in an overly adorned dress stood in the doorway.
“Girls!” her shrill voice cried. “I had almost despaired that you would ever arrive. The tea has nearly gone cold! What caused your delay? I am most seriously vexed!”
“Peace, Aunt,” said Miss Elizabeth Bennet. “We are here now, are we not? We will tell all once we are settled.”
Wickham suppressed a smile at the amused exasperation evident in Miss Elizabeth’s voice. He supposed that the aunt must be Mrs. Phillips, and he wondered if her husband was of a similar disposition.
The group divested themselves of their outerwear in the small cloakroom just inside the house and then settled themselves in the parlor for tea.
“Might I enquire as to where Mr. Phillips is?” Wickham asked his hostess after being introduced. “I ought to introduce myself to him as soon as may be. I imagine he has been anticipating my arrival for some time.”
“Mr. Phillips will join us for tea,” said Mrs. Phillips.
“I have sent my maid to collect him from his office next door. We are quite happily situated, I assure you. It was a stroke of luck that our home is connected to the office. The man who owned the two buildings was a doctor who wished to be close to his establishment, you see. When he moved to Cheshire to be near to his daughter, we purchased both the home and the office space.”
Mr. Wickham could clearly see the family resemblance between Lydia Bennet and Mrs. Phillips.
The latter, like her youngest niece, rambled on about everything and nothing while she poured and served the tea.
There were little biscuits served as well, and soon Wickham was happily munching away while listening to the conversations around him.
Once, he may have searched for a way to insert himself into the discussions of those in the party, but his years studying the law and working as a clerk in Ramsgate had taught him to observe rather than speak. One never knew what might be discovered by listening.
Wickham quickly saw that Collins was attempting, rather badly, to woo Miss Elizabeth.
She, in turn, was barely civil to him in her responses and her irritation with her erstwhile suitor was only thinly concealed.
Wickham furrowed his brow in thought. He had known Miss Elizabeth for less than a day, and he could clearly see she would have absolutely no patience for the clergyman.
Miss Mary, on the other hand…that sister was soberly dressed and had a pious air about her.
Wickham would have to consider it further.
Miss Jane Bennet sipped her tea quietly, not really participating in the discourse around her.
She stared at the painting across the room, seemingly lost in contemplation.
Wickham could guess where her thoughts lay.
Though he knew not the particulars, it was clear the lady had an attachment to Mr. Bingley.
Mr. Phillips joined them then. “Mr. Wickham!” he boomed. “Welcome to Meryton! I have been anticipating your arrival for some time, sir! I am pleased to meet you.” The two exchanged greetings and Mr. Phillips settled in for tea.
“Might you tell me something of your practice?” asked Mr. Wickham.
“All in good time,” Phillips said. “I never bring my work home with me. It frustrates the Mrs. when she does not have my undivided attention.”
Wickham nodded and sipped his tea. His curiosity would have to wait.
Instead of learning about the practice, George answered countless questions about himself; where he grew up, where he went to school, and many more.
When the subject of old Mr. Darcy sponsoring his education came up, Mrs. Phillips piped up from across the room.
“Mr. Darcy!” she huffed. “Never have I met a more disagreeable man. Why, he slighted poor Lizzy, you know.”
Wickham raised his eyebrows in shock. “I beg your pardon, ma’am,” he said. “I apologize for the confusion. I speak of my godfather, the late Mr. George Darcy. He was the current Mr. Darcy’s father.”
Wickham was unsure what his friend had done to incite such an outburst, but he had no doubt he was to find out in short order.
“Oh,” Mrs. Phillips said, somewhat mollified. “That makes sense. I could hardly see the young Mr. Darcy sponsoring anyone, after his comments at the assembly. Why, to call a lady he has never been introduced to ‘tolerable!’ What arrogance! He is such a conceited man, horribly unpleasant and cross!”
Mrs. Phillips probably would have continued in that vein for several minutes had Miss Lydia not loudly interrupted.
“Oh, forget about Mr. Darcy, Aunt! Did you invite the officers to your card party?”
“Of course, I did, my dear!” Mrs. Phillips replied. “A soiree would not be complete without the charming officers in our midst. You will join us, of course, Mr. Wickham?”
“I should be delighted, ma’am,” Mr. Wickham replied.
Miss Lydia giggled and leaned in to whisper to her sister. Kitty snickered loudly in response.
Wickham winced internally. Truly, who had allowed those girls out of the schoolroom? Their behavior was not fit for society in the least. In his past lifetime, he would have enjoyed their high spirits, but those days were long behind him.
Mr. Phillips rose, beckoning Wickham to join him. “Thank you for tea, my dear,” he said to his wife. “Now I must steal our new friend away. We shall join you for supper.”
Wickham followed his new employer out, turning the events of the afternoon over in his head as they made the journey to the solicitor’s office next door.