Vol 1, Chapter 8 #2
“That applies to me as well, Charlotte. We should not have judged your choice. It is, after all, yours to make, not ours,” Jane added as she too hugged her friend.
As the three were sitting and talking Elizabeth noticed that Mr. Denny had arrived with Mr. Wickham in tow.
Before the men could make their way to where the two oldest Bennet daughters sat, Sir William stood and clinked his glass to get the attention of all present and cleared his throat.
“It is my distinct pleasure to inform all of our friends here assembled, with our hostess’s permission,” he raised his glass to Mrs. Phillips who inclined her head, “that my Charlotte and Mr. Collins are betrothed and will marry in January.”
Many wished the newly betrothed couple well. Jane leaned over to Charlotte and asked quietly so only Charlotte could hear her, “Does that mean you will still come to Broadhurst with us?”
“Why do you think we are marrying after Twelfth Night?” Charlotte smiled conspiratorially.
After the well wishes had subsided, the two officers made their way across the room to where the three ladies were seated.
“Good evening, ladies,” Wickham bowed with a flourish.
“Congratulations on your betrothal, Miss Lucas,” Wickham gave his wishes.
“Miss Elizabeth, if you are not going to play cards, may we talk?” he asked hopefully.
“I do not enjoy cards overly much, Mr. Wickham; yes, we may talk,” Elizabeth allowed. She caught Jane’s hand before her sister stood and followed Charlotte, “Advise Mama and Papa to stay near me,” Elizabeth whispered to Jane who nodded her understanding.
Wickham sat on the chair closest to the end of the settee where Elizabeth sat.
She wanted to escape his unappealing presence, but her curiosity had won out so she would listen to what the slimy man had to say.
Elizabeth was relieved to see her parents standing silently behind Mr. Wickham.
They were close enough to hear the conversation, and with the man trying his best to work his charms on her, he was not aware of their presence.
Mr. Wickham assumed that he had enthralled Miss Elizabeth so he could talk to her at his leisure, and that she would be willing to hear anything from him. After her comments about his nemesis earlier, he was sure that she was ripe for his version of the history of his acquaintance with Mr. Darcy.
Mr. Wickham quickly began his chosen subject. He inquired how far Netherfield was from Meryton after Miss Elizabeth had mentioned that was where the gentleman was residing in the area; and, after receiving her answer, he again asked in a hesitating manner how long Mr. Darcy had been staying there.
‘Did you forget you asked the same question earlier today?’ Elizabeth asked herself. Then aloud replied, “A few weeks,” and then, in an attempt to spur him on, added, “He is a man of exceptionally large property in Derbyshire, I understand.”
“Yes,” replied Mr. Wickham; “his estate there is a noble one. A clear ten thousand per annum. You could not have met with a person more capable of giving you certain information on that subject than myself, for I have been connected with his family in a particular manner from my infancy.” He nodded when Elizabeth looked suitably surprised.
“You may well be surprised, Miss Bennet, at such an assertion after seeing the very cold manner of our meeting earlier today. Are you much acquainted with Mr. Darcy?”
‘Do you think me a simpleton? Only a dullard would have seen the two of you today and not known that!’ “As much as I ever wish to be,” Elizabeth offered with as much warmth as she could muster. “I have not spent much time in his company, but I think him very disagreeable.”
“I have no right to give my opinion,” said Wickham, “as to his being agreeable or otherwise. I am not qualified to form one. I have known him too long and too well to be a fair judge. It is impossible for me to be impartial. But I believe your opinion of him would in general astonish—and perhaps you would not express it quite so strongly anywhere else. Here, you are in your own family.”
‘You must really think me unintelligent; you were itching to tell me your tale. Do you now know how inappropriate such a conversation is with one you just met?’ Elizabeth glanced at her father, and with a quick nod of approval, allowed the man think that he was taking her in.
“Upon my word, I say no more here than I might say in any house in the neighbourhood, except Netherfield Park. He is not at all liked in Hertfordshire. Everybody is disgusted with his pride. You will not find him more favourably spoken of by anyone.” Elizabeth told the man who she judged was itching to hear negativity about Mr. Darcy.
“I cannot pretend to be sorry,” said Wickham, after a short pause, “that he or that any man should not be estimated beyond their desserts; but with him I believe it does not often happen. The world is blinded by his fortune and consequence, or frightened by his high and imposing manners, and sees him only as he chooses to be seen.”
‘What drivel, aside from the part about his manners, nothing you say is true!’ Elizabeth was growing exasperated with the lying man but wanted to hear the rest of what he had to say. “I should take him, even on my slight acquaintance, to be an ill-tempered man.” Elizabeth stated.
Wickham only shook his head. “I wonder,” said he, “whether he is likely to be in this country much longer.” Wickham knew he was walking a tightrope, and if Darcy were to leave soon, he would be a lot safer going against what he had been warned not to do.
“I do not at all know; but I heard nothing of his going away. Will your plans in favour of the Derbyshire Militia be affected by his being in the neighbourhood?” ‘I could be on Drury Lane with this level of acting,’ Elizabeth smiled at the thought, and Wickham, seeing the smile, believed that it was meant for him.
“Oh! no—it is not for me to be driven away by Mr. Darcy. If he wishes to avoid seeing me, he must go. We are not on friendly terms, and it always gives me pain to meet him, but I have no reason for avoiding him but what I might proclaim before all the world, a sense of very great ill-usage, and most painful regrets at his being what he is. His father, Miss Bennet, the late Mr. Darcy, was one of the best men that ever breathed, and the truest friend I ever had; and I can never be in company with this Mr. Darcy without being grieved to the soul by a thousand tender recollections. His behaviour to myself has been scandalous; but I believe I could forgive him anything and everything, rather than his disappointing the hopes and disgracing the memory of his father.”
‘There you go again contradicting yourself, you are obviously a practiced, but not a very good, liar! What do you imagine this disclosure would be to the memory of the man you claim to love so dearly?’ Elizabeth had to concentrate to feign interest of the subject but noticed that her mother was growing angrier by the moment.
She listened, sure that if one word in fifty were true, it would be a surprise.
Mr. Wickham began to speak on more general topics—Meryton, the neighbourhood, the society—appearing highly pleased with all that he had yet seen and speaking of the lattermost with gentle but very intelligible gallantry.
“It was the prospect of constant society, and good society,” he added, “which was my chief inducement to enter the Derbyshire Militia.”
‘Yes, and to try and fleece honest, hardworking merchants, evidently! Ogling young maidens too, that is the society you crave?’ Elizabeth was disgusted by the man. Not aware of her distaste, he ploughed ahead.
“I knew it to be a most respectable and agreeable corps, and my friend Denny tempted me further by his account of their present quarters and the very great attentions and excellent acquaintances Meryton had poured upon them. Society, I own, is necessary to me. I have been a disappointed man, and my spirits will not bear solitude. I must have employment and society. A military life is not what I was intended for, but circumstances have now made it eligible. The church ought to have been my profession—I was brought up for the church, and I should at this time have been in possession of a most valuable living, had it pleased the gentleman we were speaking of just now.”
“Indeed!” Elizabeth forced herself to react in the way she assumed that he wanted her to.
“Yes—the late Mr. Darcy bequeathed me the next presentation of the best living in his gift. He was my godfather, and excessively attached to me. I cannot do justice to his kindness. He meant to provide for me amply and thought he had done it; but when the living became vacant, it was given elsewhere.”
“Good heavens!” cried Elizabeth; “but how could that be? How could his will be disregarded? Why did you not seek legal redress?” ‘Now we get to the centre of his lies. I will bet there is a kernel of truth here wrapped in layers of untruths!’
“There was just such an informality in the terms of the bequest as to give me no hope for legal redress. A man of honour could not have doubted the intention, but Mr. Darcy chose to doubt it—or to treat it as a merely conditional recommendation, and to assert that I had forfeited all claim to it by extravagance, imprudence—in short, anything or nothing. Certain it is, that the living was available two years ago, exactly as I was of an age to hold it, and that it was given to another man; it is no less certain that I cannot accuse myself of having really done anything to deserve to lose it. I have a warm, unguarded temper, and I may have spoken my opinion of him, and to him, too freely. I can recall nothing worse. But the fact is that we are hugely different sort of men, and that he hates me.”
“This is quite shocking! He deserves to be publicly disgraced.” Elizabeth egged the clueless man on, a glance at her father telling her she was closing on the edge of his forbearance.