Chapter Eleven #3
“I ought to be. I grew up at Pemberley, and have known Mr. Darcy all my life—long enough to understand how he might disparage a family he considers beneath him, despite their indisputable charms.”
Now she was quite entranced. Elizabeth had thought her first assessment of Mr. Darcy was sound enough, and then she had begun to esteem him well enough to cherish a secret wish—one that he would likely sneer to learn of.
Hope and humiliation warred in her, and she wished for some insight into the gentleman's character. “Are you a relation of his?”
“No more so than being the godson of his father, one of the finest men I have ever known. My own late father was his steward, and the late Mr. Darcy was fond of me since I was a boy. Darcy and I once played together, even went to school together. His father was my generous benefactor. In fact….”
Mr. Wickham looked as if he would say more, but stopped himself. Elizabeth dearly wished for him to elaborate, and hoped she might prompt him to speak candidly. “It seems you were very fortunate.”
At the same moment, Mr. Wickham asked, “How well are you acquainted with Darcy?”
“He accompanied Jane and I as we travelled to London with friends recently.”
“Ah—no doubt you observed him amongst his own circle there?”
Elizabeth was sure that her face must betray her sentiments toward the Fitzwilliam sisters and the odious countess. “As much as I should ever wish to.”
“He may be on his best behavior amongst them, particularly the colonel, who is such a rake himself that Darcy might play the noble hero. I am sorry to hear that he has been unkind to your sisters.”
Elizabeth considered Mr. Darcy’s behavior in London, which now felt entirely contradictory.
He had denounced the behavior of the countess and her daughters, though she now doubted his disapproval of Miss Darcy’s incivility.
But there was some merit in the contrast between him and his cousin the colonel.
Elizabeth had thought of it when she had, as she promised to Jane, pondered their every interaction in search of some sign that he had a partiality for her.
She had recalled half a dozen times when he seemed displeased with his cousin’s attentions to her, yet now she knew not what to make of it all.
Mr. Wickham seemed unaware of her confusion, for he smiled affably at her. “I fear it is something we have in common, Miss Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth raised one eyebrow in arch amusement. “Has he called you unattractive and deemed your sisters ridiculous?”
He gasped theatrically, bringing one hand to his heart. “I never knew him to suffer poor vision—the old devil has gone mad. But alas, I fear my own injury has been more grievous even than the insupportable slander he has cast upon the loveliest ladies in the village.”
“Then I am very sorry for you,” Elizabeth said with a smirk.
“Your delicacy is to be commended, but if you will not ask, I shall entreat you would hear me, for it is a woeful subject that has weighed upon me as I find myself obliged to join the militia—my unhappy circumstances have been all Mr. Darcy’s doing.”
Elizabeth assured him she would hear whatever he wished to confide; she was perfectly ready to console the charming officer who had sought her out.
He gave a gracious bow of his head. “My godfather was fond of me, so much so that he sponsored my education, and desired that I might take orders and be granted a valuable living in his gift. But his friendship was ever the envy of the younger Darcy; I believe he despised me for the esteem his father and I shared. When my benefactor died, Darcy disregarded his father’s wishes entirely and gave the living to another man, determined to see me impoverished.
Thus I find myself here, though I am more than content to be so. ”
Elizabeth gasped. “But how could he do such a thing? Was there no provision?”
“Sadly, the promises often spoken were never fixed in writing; my old friend thought to live many years yet. He trusted his son to treat me with honor; he was too generous to see the spiteful characters of both his children, I fear. Mr. Darcy’s sister is very like him, cold and proud, ever above her company. ”
Elizabeth nodded, her brows furrowing with disgust as she considered Miss Darcy’s mistreatment of Jane. The girl needed a slap and a governess.
“I am very sorry you were so ill-used—though I shall be the last to lament that you have come to Meryton, sir.” Elizabeth smiled warmly at Mr. Wickham.
She had no wish to be equally forthcoming, for it would be no favor to Jane, but Mr. Wickham had affected her sympathies enough that she enjoyed every moment of his company, even when they were obliged to rejoin her relations.
The confusion he had sown amidst her recent reflections on Mr. Darcy tormented her for the rest of the day.
Mr. Wickham was quite correct in his depiction of Miss Darcy; could Mr. Darcy truly be such a villain?
She was to dance with him at the ball, and Elizabeth was determined to have some answers.