Chapter 5 #3
Just then, Mrs Bennet hurried towards them and immediately began questioning her brother about the journey and the commissions she had asked him to bring from London. The interruption brought the conversation between the Gardiners and Eleanor to an untimely end.
After dinner, Mr and Mrs Gardiner finally found an opportunity to speak with Eleanor more privately.
“Ella, thank you so much for the generous gifts you sent for our children,” Madeline said warmly. “You really should not have troubled yourself.”
“My dear Madeline,” Eleanor replied with a smile, “My nieces speak so fondly of your children, and considering my long friendship with Edward, I could hardly have done otherwise.”
“I still cannot believe,” Edward said with a shake of his head, “that your late husband was Daniel Campbell. His name is legendary in the shipping trade.”
“Yes,” Eleanor replied fondly. “My dear Daniel devoted many years to building that company. I must confess, however, that I contributed more than one idea in those early days.”
“I have no doubt about that,” said Mr Gardiner.
Eleanor smiled mischievously. “Indeed, Eddie, you really ought to speak with my solicitor. I believe I could introduce you to several business opportunities that would greatly benefit your firm.”
“That strikes me as an excellent idea, my dear friend,” Mr Gardiner replied with a smile.
“But enough of business,” she continued, turning to Madeline. “Tell me, has your husband ever confessed what he did when he was twelve years old and persuaded Sarah, Peter, and me to run away and spend the afternoon swimming in the river?”
“No,” Madeline laughed. “Though I am beginning to suspect I ought to hear the story.”
Elizabeth, Mary, and Kitty soon gathered around them, laughing heartily as Eleanor recounted one childhood adventure after another.
“You must have spent a great many summers at Longbourn, Aunt Eleanor,” Mary observed curiously. “You seem to know the house even better than we do.”
“Yes, my dear Mary. I can assure you that I know Longbourn and the people of Meryton remarkably well.”
Eleanor had no wish to deceive her niece and therefore chose the answer that came closest to the truth.
After spending the evening in cheerful conversation and cards, the family retired for the night. Reuniting with her dear childhood friend had lifted Eleanor's spirits, and she slept more soundly than she had for many nights.
The following day, the entire family attended an evening gathering at the Phillipses' house.
News had spread quickly that Lady Campbell would be present, and no one looked forward to meeting the distinguished Baroness more eagerly than George Wickham.
Lydia had already informed him that Lady Campbell owned Netherfield, possessed a handsome house in London, and held extensive estates in Canada.
Making discreet inquiries of his own, Wickham had also discovered that she was enormously wealthy—wealthier even than the insufferable Darcy. Better still, she was said to be an attractive widow in her early forties.
To Wickham, she appeared the perfect prize.
Accordingly, upon his arrival, he made his way directly towards the lady, who was engaged in conversation with Elizabeth.
“Good evening, Miss Elizabeth.”
Having greeted her, his attention immediately shifted to Lady Campbell. She was indeed an attractive woman. Within moments, he had formed a plan.
He would charm the wealthy widow into marriage and, once her fortune was secure, make the beautiful Elizabeth his mistress.
“Good evening, Mr Wickham,” Elizabeth replied. “May I present my aunt, Lady Eleanor Campbell?”
Wickham bowed over Eleanor's hand with studied gallantry, allowing his gaze to linger a little longer than good manners required.
Lady Campbell immediately recognised the sort of man standing before her.
She merely pretended otherwise.
Elizabeth had already told her much about him, and Eleanor wished to discover how much of it was true.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr Wickham,” she said pleasantly. “Elizabeth has spoken of you and mentioned that life has not always dealt kindly with you.”
The invitation was all Wickham required. “Yes, my Lady. For some, life proves to be more complicated than it should be.”
He launched into a polished account of his many supposed misfortunes, carefully selecting every word to awaken Lady Campbell's sympathy.
“You see, my dear Lady Campbell,” he concluded with an engaging smile, “my life has certainly not been an easy one. Yet I remain hopeful. Perhaps one day I shall meet the right lady, establish a happy family, and leave all my troubles behind me.”
He smiled with all the practiced charm for which he was so well known.
“I see,” replied Lady Campbell, then turned towards Elizabeth.
“My dear, would you be so kind as to fetch me a glass of punch?”
“Of course, Aunt.”
The moment Elizabeth was out of earshot, Eleanor's pleasant smile disappeared. Her expression became perfectly calm.
“I shall speak plainly, Mr Wickham.”
He looked at her in surprise.
“Tomorrow morning, my secretary will engage someone to investigate every aspect of your past.”
She took one deliberate step closer.
“If your intention is to deceive me with handsome speeches and an agreeable countenance, you have chosen the wrong woman. I possess a remarkable talent for recognising scoundrels.”
Her voice remained perfectly composed.
“And let me offer you one further piece of advice. Keep well away from my nieces.”
Wickham's confident smile vanished.
“My Lady, I do not know what mistaken impression you have formed of me…” Wickham began, but Eleanor silenced him with a slight gesture of her hand before he could continue.
“I shall be watching you closely. And should I discover that you have attempted to compromise any member of my family, I shall purchase every debt you owe in Meryton. Once I hold your creditors' notes, sending you to Marshalsea will be a remarkably simple matter.”
For the first time in many years, George Wickham found himself genuinely afraid.
“I understand, my Lady,” he said quietly, bowing once more. “If you will excuse me.”
Without another word, he withdrew.
A few moments later, Elizabeth returned carrying a glass of punch.
“Here you are, Aunt,” she said, noticing Wickham's hasty retreat. “What happened?”
“It happened that Mr Wickham is not the gentleman he wishes the world to believe him to be,” Eleanor replied quietly. “I do not trust him, Elizabeth, and neither you nor your sisters should encourage his attentions.”
Elizabeth looked at her in surprise.
“Why do you think so, Aunt?”
“Come and sit beside me, Elizabeth,” Eleanor said gently. “I do not ask you to take my opinion as truth. I only ask that you consider what I observed.”
Elizabeth sat beside her aunt, her curiosity evident.
“What did you notice?”
“The first thing was that Mr Wickham spoke of himself almost from the moment we were introduced. A gentleman of true worth is generally more interested in learning about others than in recounting his own misfortunes.”
Elizabeth frowned thoughtfully.
“I had not considered that.”
“Then there was the ease with which he attempted to win my sympathy. Every word seemed carefully chosen to make himself appear unfortunate and deserving of compassion.”
“He has always spoken very openly to me,” Elizabeth admitted.
“Too openly,” Eleanor replied. “People who have suffered genuine misfortune rarely reveal their deepest wounds to a stranger within minutes of making an acquaintance.”
Elizabeth remained silent.
“And did you notice how quickly he altered his manner?” Eleanor continued. “He first wished to charm me as an attractive widow. When that failed, he immediately transformed himself into a persecuted gentleman in search of justice. A sincere man does not change his character to suit his company.”
Elizabeth looked down at the glass in her hands.
“When you explain it in that manner… it does seem rather calculated.”
“I may be mistaken,” Eleanor said calmly. “But I have spent many years meeting merchants, lawyers, politicians, soldiers, and businessmen. I have learned that those who rely most upon charm usually have the greatest need to conceal something.”
Elizabeth was thoughtful for several moments.
“I understand,” she said at last. “I shall be more cautious.”
“That is all I ask, my dear. Trust should always be earned, never given away merely because someone speaks pleasingly.”
By the time Eleanor had finished, Elizabeth remained astonished.
Yet she found herself unable to doubt her aunt's judgment.
“I understand. Thank you for caring about us,” was all Elizabeth could manage to say.
Eleanor took her hand and said gently, “That is what family is for, my dear—to protect one another.”
The rest of the evening passed without incident.
After the card tables were put away, Mary willingly took her place at the pianoforte, and the company spent the remainder of the evening dancing.
It proved an enjoyable gathering for everyone—except Mr Wickham.
◆◆◆
Christmas was a particularly special occasion for Eleanor. Yet amid the joy of being surrounded by family once more, she could not help thinking of Daniel and James. James had died first, and seven years later, she had lost Daniel. Since then, she had been alone in the world.
More than once, she found herself wondering what her life might have been had she married Marcus instead.
Unwilling to dwell on such melancholy thoughts, she devoted herself to the pleasure of distributing Christmas presents.