Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Pemberley
Darcy was a mess. He hid it well, behind that cold, indifferent society mask he wore, but Wickham knew him better than anyone else in the world. Yes, the grief was there in the clenched jaw, the red eyes…
The distance that grew between them at Cambridge still remained.
George had spent summers at Pemberley while he continued at university, but Darcy had always found a reason to be absent from the estate, or in a different room.
George was fairly certain that Darcy had continued trying to convince his father of the young Mr. Wickham’s dissolute lifestyle.
Had he bothered to check, Darcy may have learned the truth for himself.
Now as he stood in front of the desk that Darcy’s father had sat at, waiting to be invited to sit, he wondered if his friendship with Darcy had been irreparably damaged.
“You are aware of the living my father left you?” Darcy said.
“Yes,” George replied.
“And will you take it when it comes available?” he asked.
George thought for a moment, wondering how to word his next statement. Finally, he spoke. “I find I am not well-suited to a life of the cloth. I have tried, but I find the work not to my liking.”
Darcy raised an eyebrow. “You have tried? I find I do not comprehend your meaning.”
George sighed. “Had you bothered to speak with me much in the last two years, you might have ascertained what I meant just now.”
“And this is all the reply I am expected to receive?” Darcy countered.
“Would you believe me if I explained myself?” George returned.
Darcy paused, assessing his childhood friend. “No,” he said. “I most likely would not.”
George collapsed in the chair without an invitation. “I do not know what you believed me to be doing at Cambridge the last two years, but I assure you, I was anxiously engaged in my work.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. You may choose to believe what you like. It does not change the facts. That said, I have decided on a different course than the church. I wish instead to study the law. To do so, I would ask that you present me with the value of the living for such a use. In return, I will sign over all claims to the living in the future, declaring to all that you have done your part in honoring your father’s wishes. ”
Darcy eyed him skeptically. “Am I to believe that you will simply take a cash settlement and hie off to university once more, never to darken my doorstep again?”
“I would hope that I might still be welcome to visit Pemberley on occasion,” George said. “But yes. I would take the settlement and be off to Cambridge to complete my studies.”
Darcy contemplated his erstwhile friend for a long moment.
The expression on his face told George that he wanted to believe his former friend’s words, but could not quite do so.
George knew his own actions two years ago stifled that desire.
His debts that year had been significant, and George had discovered that Darcy had paid for them all with his allowance.
The misadventures with Northmore and his set must have left a rather bad taste in Darcy’s mouth.
True, his friend could not deny that he had had so little interaction with George in the recent past that it was impossible to know for sure if his childhood friend was telling the truth about his studies.
The temptation to trade the living for a cash settlement had to be strong, likely because Darcy, too, felt Wickham to be an entirely unsuitable choice to lead a flock.
George waited patiently for Darcy to address him. Finally, the young master opened his mouth to speak. “I shall give you three thousand pounds in lieu of the living. If you indeed intend to study the law, that amount should be more than enough for your needs.”
Wickham agreed readily. Darcy supplied him with the bank notes and moved to dismiss him, no doubt thinking their meeting over, when George surprised him by speaking again.
“There is one other matter we need to settle before I go,” he said.
Rather confused, Darcy indicated for him to continue.
“I understand that you hold some debts of mine from Cambridge. I was unaware of their existence at the time but would like to know the amount so that I might pay you back in full when I can.”
Though Darcy’s expression once again showed his disbelief, he stated the full amount of debt.
George pulled a small book from his jacket pocket and recorded the information inside.
He closed it and bowed, then turned, striding toward the door to the study.
He stopped before he left the room and turned, taking in his friend’s face once more.
“Darcy,” he said. “I wish you to know that you are the truest friend I have ever had. I hope I may one day prove myself worthy again in your eyes.” With that, he left the room and his life at Pemberley behind him.
The young Mr. Wickham made his way back to Cambridge, throwing himself into his studies and quickly finding that the law suited him just fine. He encountered William Collins on the grounds often and he continued to subtly teach his old roommate a better way of life.
Collins was naturally eloquent; Wickham simply taught him how to know when one word would suffice instead of the four he typically used.
George liked to think he had curbed his friend’s obsequiousness as well.
Collins was less servile and self-important, paying only the most proper respect to his betters.
The man was shaping up to be a fine rector and George was almost sad that they would be parting ways at the end of their tenure at school.
They agreed to keep in touch; if anything, Collins’ letters would prove amusing to read.
It took two more years for George to complete his schooling; the year was 1808 when he graduated and accepted a position as a clerk to a solicitor in Ramsgate. The pay was low, but room and board were included.
Though he still had money in the bank left over from the cash settlement and his inheritance, Wickham found he preferred to invest the rest in the four percents and let that amount gather interest. The position in Ramsgate would allow him to gain valuable experience without depleting his funds, thus enabling him to eventually seek another higher paying position later on.
Ramsgate agreed with George immensely. The sea air was invigorating and his work fulfilling.
He found he was able to put aside most of the small salary he made, and his bank account continued to grow slowly.
He also discovered a few additional investment opportunities as well, adding to the small fortune he held.
All in all, George was very happy in his life.
He was establishing a name for himself in Ramsgate, having helped his employer in many legal instances.
And, of course, his father had been proven right: young Mr. Wickham’s natural charm and silver tongue were great assets when employed for a good cause.
George worked in Ramsgate for a full three years.
In April of 1811, he happened across an advertisement in the London paper.
A solicitor in Meryton, near London, was searching for a clerk.
The advertised position sounded very desirable.
Room and board were also included, and the salary was generous, exceeding his current one despite the pay increases he had received over the years.
George decided to pen a letter to one Mr. Phillips and inquire about the position.
The reply was rapid in its coming. Mr. Phillips wrote that he wished to fill the position of clerk in his law office when his current clerk relocated to Suffolk in the autumn.
The clerk, he explained, had unexpectedly inherited his father’s estate when his older brother passed rather suddenly.
The young man had committed to remaining with Mr. Phillips until the autumn, by which time he would be needed to oversee the harvest. Since spring planting had already been accomplished, the young man had determined to stay.
The position would be on a trial basis in lieu of a proper interview.
George wrote back to Mr. Phillips, indicating his pleasure at receiving the reply and his acceptance of the post. He indicated his desire to arrive on the nineteenth of November, if Mr. Phillips was agreeable to that date.
He would take the post, stopping in London briefly to handle any business.
All told, George was quite satisfied with the turn his life was taking.
It was as he was walking to post his reply that George first encountered Georgiana Darcy.
He could scarcely believe his eyes when he recognized who he was seeing.
Georgiana had blossomed since he last saw her.
The sisterly affection he felt swelled with pride at the young woman she had become. Instantly, he called out to her.
“Miss Darcy!” he called. “It has been an age since I last saw you! How are you? Will you introduce me to your companion?”
Georgiana did not disappoint. “George! I mean, Mr. Wickham! What a pleasure! I am most pleased to see you! Allow me to introduce my companion, Mrs. Younge.”
George bowed to the woman, whose pinched face spoke her displeasure at encountering him. She barely nodded her greetings, urging her charge to continue on. Georgiana shushed her, instead requesting that the small group go to the tea house on the corner for a visit.
George was happy to accompany the ladies.
He and Georgiana had a good chat, and she gave him all the news of her brother that he had been missing.
Darcy was currently in London, as it turned out.
The season was concluding, and the young Miss Darcy was pleased to report that her brother would journey to Ramsgate to join her at the end of May.
“Perhaps,” she said, “You might join us for dinner at that time!”