Chapter II #2
Louisa knew who might know more about the officer.
With a decisive nod, she quit the room and went looking for her husband, finding him in the study sitting at her brother’s desk.
Gerald looked up when she entered, a smile slipping in easily, a side of him that few ever saw of the man she married.
Louisa could not claim a deep emotional connection to her husband and knew his feelings for her were no stronger, but there was respect and fondness between them, even if Caroline often ridiculed it.
“Gerald, what do you know of Mr. Wickham?”
Though surprise crossed his features, Gerald leaned back in the chair. Never one lacking understanding, even if his indolence did suggest a lack of interest or discernment, he spoke at once and confirmed his perception.
“Can I suppose the youngest Bennets spoke of him?”
Louisa nodded as she settled into the chair before the desk. “It appears you understand something of their characters.”
His snort spoke to his feelings with eloquence. “Even a man of little acumen would understand them in an instant. The question is how enamored with him they already are.”
“That is difficult to discern,” replied Louisa, “given they extol any man wearing the scarlet to the skies.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” said he with a nod. “The abundance of such men in the district at present may be their protection for the moment.”
“Then you know something?”
Gerald shook his head. “Darcy was rather close-mouthed about the man, though that is not surprising, as Darcy says little on every occasion. What he told me suggests Wickham is not a good man and has several unsavory habits. Beyond that, I do not know the particulars, though I know enough to understand it is best to keep him at arm’s length. ”
“That is what I thought,” said Louisa, considering. “The question is how to use this information.”
With a grin, Gerald rose and rounded the desk, drawing Louisa up by the hand and leading her to the sofa near the fire. “What is happening in that devious mind of yours, my dear?”
Louisa arched an eyebrow. “Devious? Caroline would think you daft for suggesting such a thing.”
“Caroline’s inability to see it does not mean you are lacking. It just means that she is blind to it.”
“Nothing specific at present,” replied Louisa, deciding against pursuing that thought. “If this Mr. Wickham is what I suspect, there may be some danger to the town.”
“I thought you cared little for the neighborhood.”
“That is Caroline’s opinion,” said Louisa, her tone light and dismissive. “Perhaps I prefer other locations, but I have no dislike for Meryton.
“But that is of little matter. Is it not the duty of anyone who possesses knowledge that may assist others to share what he knows?”
Gerald considered this and nodded. “Yet Darcy has not seen fit to do what you suggest.”
“And I must suppose that Mr. Darcy has reasons for his inaction.” Louisa paused to consider the gentleman.
“Even so, I do not suppose Mr. Darcy would allow others to suffer when it is in his power to prevent it. The question is what to do about it. Though we may make some inquiries, I suspect the greater impact would come from Mr. Darcy taking action.”
“With that, I cannot disagree,” said Gerald. “Then what do you propose?”
“Let me think on it for a time,” replied Louisa.
In truth, Louisa had a notion of how to proceed, but it was one fraught with danger.
Gerald had already warned her of the potential for disaster, but that was nothing compared to how Caroline would react if she escalated the situation.
Louisa had no particular reason to punish her sister, though Caroline deserved it, considering her behavior.
Perhaps she could use the situation to help her sister see sense.
If nothing else, perhaps she could end Caroline’s delusions forever.
JANE BENNET WAS NOT blind. Though some thought her sweet and complying, only able to see the best in others, Jane was not deficient. She attributed the best motivations to everyone she met, but she was not blind to poor behavior.
In the current circumstance, the more pressing issue was not a rosy outlook on life but knowing another so well that she could understand her moods with instinctive ease.
Elizabeth was not only her closest sister, but her confidante, her support, and the dearest person in the world.
Though Jane did not know the particulars of Lizzy’s conversation with Louisa at Netherfield, she saw her sister’s distance, then her growing pique.
In situations like this, Jane would often allow Lizzy to consider the matter, then raise it herself—Elizabeth often asked for Jane’s opinion.
In this instance, however, she thought it best to speak of it at once.
The opportunity came soon after their return from Netherfield, for Elizabeth sought her bedchamber to think.
“Lizzy,” said Jane when she gained entrance to her sister’s room not long after their return, “did something happen between you and Louisa at Netherfield?”
Elizabeth did not even bat an eyelash at Jane’s question. “I am not angry with Mrs. Hurst, Jane.”
“But you are angry with someone.”
With a shake of her head, Elizabeth sat in the chair before her vanity. “Mr. Darcy reaches out to vex me even when he is nowhere nearby.”
“Oh?” asked Jane, sitting on the edge of Elizabeth’s bed. “How does Mr. Darcy affect you even from London?”
Elizabeth remained silent for long enough that Jane wondered if her sister would speak. “It seems Mr. Darcy is not content with denying Mr. Wickham his due and ruining his prospects; he also takes delight in blasting Mr. Wickham’s reputation wherever he goes.”
“What did Louisa say?” asked Jane, keeping her tone even.
“Just that Mr. Darcy cared little for Mr. Wickham,” replied Elizabeth, shaking her head with disgust. “Given the history between them, that Mr. Darcy would say anything at all is impudence of the highest order.”
“And what history is that, Lizzy?”
Elizabeth regarded her as if she thought Jane was daft. “Do you not recall that Mr. Darcy denied Mr. Wickham the advantage his father designed for his protégé?”
“You take an eager interest in Mr. Wickham’s concerns, Lizzy,” replied Jane. “As he is an acquaintance of a month’s duration, I might wonder why you care for Mr. Wickham at all.”
Though Elizabeth was not pleased, she shook her head. “I shall tell you what I told Aunt Gardiner, Jane. I am not at risk of losing my heart to Mr. Wickham, if that concerns you. Even if I held a tender regard for him, it would matter little—he appears to find Mary King much more agreeable.”
“No, Lizzy, I was not asking that. I know you are not disposed to have your head turned by a handsome face. But you must own that you have taken far more interest in Mr. Wickham than I might have expected. I would like to know why his concerns are of so much interest to you.”
“Who would not have an interest in his concerns when knowing what he has endured?” demanded Elizabeth, rising to pace the room, her footsteps against the floor evidence of her agitation.
“Lizzy, please sit,” said Jane.
Though she felt it rarely, Jane did not appreciate her sister’s penchant for hasty judgment and disregard of other explanations. Elizabeth was confident, and such self-assurance was not disposed to allow uncertainty. It was both her dear sister’s greatest strength and her deepest flaw.
“Now,” said Jane when Elizabeth resumed her seat, though she did not appear comfortable, “I would like to ask you something, Lizzy. Have you ever considered that you have the matter between them from Mr. Wickham’s perspective? Unless I am mistaken, Mr. Darcy has never offered his opinion.”
“Only to say that Mr. Wickham could not keep his friends,” muttered Elizabeth, still unhappy.
“Which may have many interpretations,” replied Jane with a nod. “The question then is not whether Mr. Darcy has persecuted Mr. Wickham, but whether Mr. Wickham’s account is trustworthy.”
“Oh, of course,” said Elizabeth, her tone filled with scorn. “Indeed, let us ask Mr. Darcy for his account, for I am certain he can say something on the matter to justify his unchristian treatment of Mr. Wickham.”
Jane shook her head. “Lizzy, this irrational disdain for Mr. Darcy will not allow you to consider any scenario in which the gentleman is justified for his actions. Tell me this—do you suppose that Mr. Bingley is a good man?”
“Considering he departed Hertfordshire after paying so much attention to you, I must question him,” retorted Elizabeth.
“And yet, according to the man’s sister, his return might be imminent.”
Elizabeth’s response was a glare no less mulish than before. “I fail to understand how the exact degree of Mr. Bingley’s goodness relates to Mr. Darcy.”
“If he is a good man,” replied Jane, “do you suppose he would associate with a man such as Mr. Darcy?”
“Perhaps he does not know Mr. Darcy so well as he supposes.”
“No, Lizzy, it is not sound.”
Jane rose to take her leave. “There are times, Lizzy, when you cling to your opinion in defiance of other possibilities or even alternate evidence. Until you have Mr. Darcy’s account, Mr. Wickham’s story is suspect.
To tell the truth, I suspect that Mr. Wickham is not a good man and has misled you for some reason of his own.
You may believe what you wish, of course, but I shall remain wary of Mr. Wickham. ”
And with that, Jane left the room. Let Lizzy think on it for a time—she was opinionated and quick to judge, but Lizzy was not in the habit of ignoring advice. In time, Jane was certain her sister would see sense.
AFTER JANE DEPARTED, Elizabeth sat in her room for some time, thinking about all Jane had said. Given her general contempt for Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth was tempted to push Jane’s assertions to the side and think of the two men as she always had.
What made this impossible was complicated, but not difficult to understand. Jane was her dearest sister, and her opinion was worthy of consideration. Elizabeth had no choice but to acknowledge that her sister’s comments had merit.
Mr. Wickham had shared the account of his grievance with Mr. Darcy, had done so when she was only newly acquainted with him.
That Mr. Darcy had declined to respond except for that one cryptic remark was beyond dispute.
A man could tell an untruth for his own purpose, but Elizabeth could not comprehend why Mr. Wickham would think it necessary to lie to her.
It was not as if they were anything to each other, after all.
In her support for Mr. Wickham, Elizabeth knew she had no ulterior motives.
Though she considered Mr. Wickham an amiable man, Elizabeth was not in love with him.
How could she be? He had been in town for a month and a half, and while she had seen him often after the ball, he had been absent of late.
Now that she thought on the matter, she could not remember having seen much of him since the party at Lucas Lodge, and not at all since the turning of the calendar.
What that meant, she did not know, and she did not wish to consider it at length. The question was the truth of Mr. Wickham’s assertions, not the state of her current connection to him.
Along with that, Elizabeth indulged in thoughts of Mr. Darcy, and she came to a startling conclusion.
Though Mr. Darcy had not behaved well when he came, he had been proper—though not warm—after that night.
Other than one comment, she had nothing to hold against the gentleman.
If that was so, did holding onto her offense and considering him the worst of men make any sense to a rational woman? Elizabeth did not suppose it did.
If Jane was correct—if Mrs. Hurst was correct—then Mr. Bingley would return before long.
Would Mr. Darcy accompany him? Elizabeth could not be certain about that, for she did not think she was in error about Mr. Darcy’s opinion of the neighborhood.
Should he return, Elizabeth could ask him and, if that was not possible, observe his interaction with Mr. Wickham.
Even if she could come to no clarity on the subject, what did that matter?
It did not matter—that was the crux of the entire situation.
Mr. Darcy’s dispute with Mr. Wickham was none of her concern.
The only possible connection it might have to Elizabeth was if Mr. Wickham was as bad as Mr. Darcy suggested.
Depending on his exact character, there might be some danger to the community.
But Elizabeth knew she could do nothing about that without knowing far more than she knew now. Thus, it was best to step back and observe. Should she learn anything, she would not hesitate to act. Until that time, there was nothing more to be done.
One thing was evident, however. There was no reason to hold a grudge against Mr. Darcy, and every reason to allow the matter to rest.