Chapter VI #2
When they were seated, Darcy laid everything they had discovered before the colonel.
Then Darcy offered more context about Wickham’s misdeeds, informing him of the debts in Lambton and Cambridge.
Finally, Darcy said a few words about Wickham’s other proclivities, the gambling and the seductions, though he did not dwell on them.
The longer they spoke, the more forbidding Colonel Forster’s mien became.
“And he did all this in two months,” said the colonel, disgusted to have such a man in his command.
“He did,” said Darcy. “The question is what other damage he has done in the town.”
Colonel Forster shook his head. “This is troublesome, gentlemen. I appreciate your offer to settle his debts, Mr. Darcy, but if he has engaged in any seductions, our welcome will evaporate without warning.”
Darcy, feeling his culpability in the matter, did not hesitate to own it.
“I offer my apologies, Colonel Forster. I knew Wickham was in town—knowing him as I do, I should have warned you all. In my defense, I can only say that a lifetime of cleaning up George Wickham’s messes has left me fatigued and unwilling to do it anymore. ”
Though the colonel eyed him, he nodded at length. “That is understandable. While I might wish that you had said something earlier, I appreciate your efforts to make amends.”
“Where is Wickham now?” asked Hurst. “If he catches wind of our activities, he will disappear.”
“Wickham is not on duty this morning,” said Colonel Forster, rising to his feet.
He went to the door and opened it, passing instructions to the officer outside, then returning to them.
“When not on duty, the men have taken to visiting the surrounding estates or flirting with the ladies on the streets of Meryton. I have instructed my batman to make inquiries—we should know his whereabouts before long.”
ELIZABETH HAD NOT PLANNED to walk to Meryton that day. As winter had curtailed her walks to a large degree, she usually spent chilly January days near the fire in Longbourn’s sitting-room with a book, dreaming of the return of spring’s new life and summer’s warmth.
That morning, however, the weather was fine for January, and her youngest sisters had declared their intention to walk to Meryton.
A sense of foreboding settled on her at the thought, the remembrance of Mr. Darcy’s caution the previous day coming to mind.
There was little enough chance of convincing the girls to stay home, especially when they had some hope of encountering officers on the streets of Meryton.
Thus, Elizabeth opted to go with them. Mr. Wickham might have no intention of anything inappropriate, but until there was no longer any danger, she would not relax her guard.
The walk was brisk, the paucity of recent opportunities rendering it even more enjoyable.
Kitty and Lydia walked ahead, talking and giggling, as was their wont, Elizabeth following behind, speaking when they addressed her.
Mary and Jane had both chosen to stay at home that morning, neither being interested in the officers nor avid walkers.
When they reached Meryton, her sisters ignored the shops in favor of a pair of officers walking down the street.
Elizabeth did not know either well and spoke little—to anyone watching, she supposed she might have appeared like a protector standing over her sisters.
In some respects they would be correct, as she kept watch for any sign of Mr. Wickham.
A few moments later, Elizabeth’s vigilance was repaid.
The two officers said their farewells to Kitty and Lydia and moved on their way.
Elizabeth was about to suggest that they make for the milliners when three officers appeared from another street, talking and laughing among themselves.
A groan nearly escaped Elizabeth’s lips—Mr. Wickham strutted beside Mr. Denny and Mr. Sanderson, all three among the girls’ favorites. Lydia and Kitty noticed them at once.
“Denny!” Lydia called with that giggle Elizabeth detested. “Wickham! Sanderson!”
“Lower your voice, Lydia,” said Elizabeth as the men turned to them with devilish grins. Lydia, to the surprise of no one, paid no attention to Elizabeth’s reprimand.
“Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Denny, bowing along with his companions. “Miss Kitty, Miss Lydia. How droll it is to see you on the streets of Meryton this morning.”
“The weather is fine,” said Lydia. “Of course, we wished to be in your company.”
“You are off duty, I hope,” said Kitty, her tone far more flirtatious than Elizabeth liked.
“For another two hours,” agreed Mr. Wickham.
As they started speaking with animation, Elizabeth found her eyes returning to Mr. Wickham, wondering if her knowledge of his vices would now betray them to her.
To her eyes, he was the same, genial man he had always appeared, quick to offer a joke or a laugh, everything he said provoking the listener to pay attention as if he was a philosopher.
Now that Elizabeth was looking for it, she could see he enjoyed the attention he was receiving, but she could see nothing more than that, and certainly nothing to give her pause.
“I hope your family was all well, Miss Elizabeth,” said he when he saw the younger girls engaged in animated conversation with his friends.
“Yes, we are all perfectly well, Mr. Wickham,” said Elizabeth. After a moment’s thought, she asked: “I hope you have behaved yourself in town.”
Spoken in an arch manner, Elizabeth received the response she was expecting—Mr. Wickham laughed as if she had just told a joke.
It was in part, though she had wondered if he would reveal something, either through hesitation or a guilty look.
Mr. Wickham was too practiced to be tripped up by such a paltry device.
Before he could respond, however, Elizabeth noted the approach of several men, among whom were the gentlemen staying at Netherfield, Colonel Forster, and several of his officers.
Mr. Darcy did not appear amused—his stony countenance as he glared at Mr. Wickham suggested he thought the officer engaged in all manner of perfidy.
Mr. Wickham caught sight of them the moment after Elizabeth did. Though surprised by the sudden appearance, he showed amusement at Mr. Darcy’s manner, missing the significance of the colonel’s presence.
“Darcy!” exclaimed he. “Welcome. I see you find the Bennet sisters as enchanting as I do. It is a pity your manners will allow you to do nothing about it.”
Mr. Darcy did not hesitate—he strode up to Mr. Wickham and planted himself in front of the officer, a snarl on his lips. “Your schemes are at an end, Wickham.”
For the first time, Mr. Wickham appeared to see the array of grim faces before him, though he maintained a credible nonchalance. “To what schemes do you refer, Darcy? I have done nothing more than speak with some engaging ladies on the street.”
“The kind that end with ruined lives and blasted futures,” spat Mr. Darcy.
“Oh, go away, Darcy,” said Mr. Wickham, though Elizabeth suspected his belligerence was all bravado. “I told you once that I have no interest in ruining anyone in Meryton.”
“Even if that is so,” replied Mr. Darcy, “there is the matter of your debts. It seems you have been busy once again, for your obligations in Meryton are substantial.”
Elizabeth saw the exact moment when Mr. Wickham’s reaction proved Mr. Darcy’s accusation, for he paled.
The colonel gave him no time to consider his response—he signaled to a pair of officers, who led Mr. Wickham away.
Silence fell between those remaining. Unfortunately, it did not last long enough.
“YOU DID THIS!” SPAT the youngest Miss Bennet, turning on Darcy as her favorite departed in the custody of the colonel’s officers. “It is not enough that you denied Mr. Wickham his due, but you are now determined to persecute him!”
Darcy turned to regard Miss Lydia Bennet, noting the flashing eyes, the crossed arms. An incongruous thought caught Darcy off guard, the sudden realization that she resembled Miss Elizabeth more than any of her other sisters.
She did not hold a candle to her elder sister in Darcy’s opinion, but she was a pretty girl, one who would turn heads when she matured and her manners improved.
By the time Darcy thought to respond, another had taken the initiative.
“You do not know all, Miss Lydia,” said Bingley, inserting himself into her notice. “Wickham incurred debts he cannot pay.”
“Debts?” asked an officer, Lieutenant Denny as Darcy recalled.
“With most of the merchants in town,” replied Bingley with a tight nod. “We do not even have the complete picture of his activities yet, but it is far more than he can ever pay.”
“I never knew,” said Denny, appearing dumbfounded. “Wickham always seemed . . .”
“That is his weapon of choice,” interjected Darcy. “He uses his education and manners to lull others to sleep, then he takes advantage when he feels he can do so with impunity.”
“I should . . .”
Denny trailed off, then turned and hurried toward the regiment offices, his fellows behind him. Left with the Bennet sisters, Darcy turned back, seeing the younger girls’ confusion, the way Miss Elizabeth regarded him, seeming to see him for the first time.
“I hope Denny will be well,” said Miss Kitty. “Wickham was his friend.”
“Do you know the extent of the acquaintance?” asked Darcy.
“Slight, or so I understand,” said Miss Elizabeth. “But the fact remains that Lieutenant Denny recommended Mr. Wickham to the regiment.”
“There should be little consequence,” said Darcy. “One cannot know everything about acquaintances.”
“Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Lydia, her tone far more diffident than he had ever heard. “Is it true? Is Mr. Wickham a debtor?”
“He is,” said Darcy, “and he owes far more than just the credit he received here. I saw this same pattern at Cambridge and Lambton, the town near my home.”
Miss Lydia appeared unable to respond, but Miss Elizabeth was not in similar straits.