Chapter 6 #2
During supper, the general noise at the table left no opportunity for anything beyond passing remarks. Lydia spoke frequently and without restraint. “You must take some more,” Lydia said to Mr Denny, who sat nearest her. “You cannot imagine how we have looked forward to this.”
Kitty followed her lead, and the officers appeared well disposed to encourage both. Not willing to be outdone, Mr Collins applied himself to his plate with dedication, as though he intended to compliment his hostess with the speed of his fork.
When the company returned to the drawing room, Elizabeth took some care to take a place well away from Mr Collins. She was not to have any lack of conversation, however. Almost as soon as she had seated herself, Mr Wickham sat down next to her, in a very welcome alternative to her cousin.
“Have you found the neighbourhood agreeable, Mr Wickham?” Elizabeth asked. “I am very fond of it, but I have lived here all my life, and cannot claim to be an impartial judge.”
He smiled warmly at her. “Yes, indeed, Miss Elizabeth. Such a delightful neighbourhood, and such kind people! The militia does not always receive so warm a welcome as we have here.”
“I am sorry to hear it,” Elizabeth told him. “The militia is performing a task of such importance that I would see you welcome everywhere. Allow me to offer you my gratitude and to tell you I would have it much more generally extended if I could.”
“Thank you,” he told her. “And am I right in thinking that we are not the only newcomers here?”
“Yes, quite right. There are several new faces in the neighbourhood. We have not long been acquainted with our neighbours at Netherfield.”
“Indeed?” he replied with a look of interest.
“A gentleman named Mr Bingley has lately taken the house,” Elizabeth said. “He brought with him his sister and brother-in-law, the Hursts, his younger sister, and his friend, Mr Darcy.”
The effect was immediate.
Mr Wickham’s expression altered, and though the change was slight, it did not escape Elizabeth. His behaviour, which had been perfectly at ease before, was suddenly abstracted.
“Darcy,” he said, almost under his breath. “So. He is here.”
Elizabeth felt her curiosity engaged at once, yet she hesitated to pursue the subject directly. “You are acquainted with Mr Darcy?”
“Indeed,” he replied after a brief pause. “From our earliest childhood.”
Such a statement could not help but make her wish to inquire further, and yet she could hardly pry into a topic on which he was obviously ill at ease. Fortunately for her curiosity, Mr Wickham did not seem inclined to leave the matter there, but went on of his own accord.
“My father,” he continued, “was for many years the steward at Pemberley, and I was brought up in the same house with Mr Darcy. His late father showed me a degree of kindness which I can never forget. He treated me with the greatest generosity, and it was his intention to provide for me in a way that suited to my situation.”
“I see,” Elizabeth said softly.
“He designed me for the church,” Mr Wickham went on, “and had the goodness to reserve for me a valuable living in his gift. Every expectation was formed upon it.”
“And yet you have joined the militia, rather than the church?” Elizabeth said.
“And yet,” he returned, with a faint smile, “the circumstances were altered. Mr Darcy’s father died, and when the living became vacant, it was given to another.”
“I cannot believe it,” Elizabeth said indignantly. “How could he do such a thing? Could you have no recourse?”
“No, alas that I could not,” Mr Wickham replied, with an appearance of moderation that seemed to heighten the effect of what he had already said. “I would not wish to speak ill of him. It is possible that I may judge him too harshly. Still, I cannot deny that I have reason to feel myself ill-used.”
Elizabeth had never thought well of Mr Darcy, but she had not suspected him of anything so wicked as this. “That he should act in such a manner,” she said, “and yet keep the good opinion of all who know him — it is too much.”
“He possesses advantages which are not easily overcome,” Mr Wickham said ruefully. “His situation in life, his connections — these secure him a regard which it would be difficult for any man to lose.”
Elizabeth considered this for a moment. “But surely you could find another living?” she asked hesitantly. “There must be many in want of a clergyman.”
For the first time, Mr Wickham appeared slightly disconcerted. “I was never ordained,” he admitted. “Circumstances led me in another direction, and I was fortunate to discover Mr Darcy’s conduct before I had fully committed myself.”
Elizabeth did not immediately reply. The explanation perhaps left something unaccounted for, but it would be unkind to put questions that might appear critical or judgemental on top of all Mr Wickham’s other misfortunes.
“It is a dreadful case,” she said at last. “I cannot think how such an injustice could be allowed to pass unnoticed.”
“You are very good,” he said. “It is a comfort to be understood.”
Elizabeth felt the full force of his words. That such a history should be known to so few, and that a man capable of such behaviour should continue to be received with respect, appeared to her not only unjust but extraordinary.
The conversation did not remain undisturbed for long. Lydia soon called for music, and the attention of the room shifted at once. Though Mr Wickham had at first remained with her, Lydia had soon hinted so dreadfully for a partner in the dance that he rose and went with her.
Elizabeth was not entirely sorry for it, for she was badly in need of a moment alone to think.
What she had heard could not be taken lightly.
The account Mr Wickham had given was too particular to be mistaken, delivered with a moderation that seemed to secure its truth.
There had been no eagerness to accuse, no attempt to inflame her judgment, and yet its effect upon her was undeniable.
That Mr Darcy should have acted in such a manner was difficult to reconcile with the character he was understood to possess. His pride had been evident from the first, and his reserve had done little to recommend him, yet she had not suspected him capable of deliberate injustice.
Memories of their previous meetings returned to her with new force.
His behaviour in the field and at the assembly, his expression of condemnation when invited to Longbourn, his general air of superiority, all appeared now in a different light, and seemed to lead her to an explanation she had not considered before.
Mr Darcy was not merely an unpleasant man. If what Mr Wickham had told her was true, he was nothing less than a villain.