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Part One
Posted on Sunday, 16 September 2007
September 1807
The smell of the place was repugnant. Fitzwilliam Darcy longed to be gone, away from the stench, the unending moans and countless hollow, hopeless eyes that inevitably turned his way, but he owed it to his father to stay and settle this business with Wickham.
Wickham, or what was left of him, was lying unconscious three feet away on a filthy cot in an overcrowded charity hospital in one of the worst sections of London. What little could be seen of his face beneath the bandages that covered most of his head was swollen beyond recognition; had it not been for a distinctive childhood scar on Wickham's arm, Darcy would not have known the broken body before him to be that of his father's godson. Besides the damage to his head, Wickham had sustained a broken hand and collarbone, broken and bruised ribs, a deep gash on his side and numerous other cuts and welts; it was a wonder that he lived at all.
Darcy's attention was brought back to the cot by a low groan followed by an epitaph and a weak cough.
"Wickham," he said softly.
"Darcy?" Wickham gasped, then coughed again.
"Easy, Wickham. You're lucky to be alive."
He mumbled something.
"Pardon?" Darcy leaned closer.
"...don't feel lucky," he said with some effort. "Where?"
"St. Mathias in London. You were found three days ago, stabbed, beaten and left for dead behind a pub near Dock Head. Do you know who did this to you?"
He attempted to shake his head, instantly regretted it, and let out a moan. He had never been in so much pain in his life. Darcy summoned the nurse.
"As soon as you are well enough, we'll move you to the Townhouse."
Wickham flinched slightly in surprise, then attempted to nod, an action that ended in another whispered epitaph. The nurse arrived to administer laudanum. Darcy left wondering how anyone could sink so low in so short a time.
The sun was just peaking through the ward window when Wickham awoke the next day. The laudanum had worn off and his entire body screamed for relief, most notably his head and hand, which both throbbed unmercifully. But he was able to think clearly, which despite the pain, was what he desperately wanted to do.
One of the things Wickham was at a loss to understand was why Darcy had ventured into what he must consider a reprehensible part of London. It was totally out of character for him to come to his aid, especially there. True, the late Mr. Darcy would have expected it of him, but he never realized what his son's true opinion of his godson was. Wickham on the other hand, had a fairly good idea, and it was mutual. He wouldn't cross the street to see to Darcy's wounds; Darcy, he was sure, was of the same mind. Yet the man had come to him when he was hurt - and more - intended to take him into his own home. Very perplexing.
They were hardly friends these days. Darcy and his crowd at University had considered themselves above mixing with underlings such as himself. True, he had been tolerated most of first year as an acquaintance of Darcy's, but once it became known that he was merely the son of a steward, Wickham was considered barely worth their notice. So Wickham had found his own livelier group of friends. He could still see Darcy's judgmental glare when he and his mates would return from a night of merrymaking. Darcy could never tolerate anyone enjoying themselves; he disapproved of everyone and everything. Not so Wickham. After the boredom of Pemberley, Cambridge was like a whole new, exciting world to him; drinking, gaming, pleasant & obliging female company - once one knew where to find it. It was heaven on earth. Granted, he had to attend class every now and again for the sake of appearance, but as a whole, it was a good time. He had enjoyed himself at Cambridge immensely and determined that his pleasurable lifestyle would not end with the conclusion of his university days - at least not if he could help it.
The moans of the ward brought Wickham abruptly back to the present. A glance at the nearby cots caused him to grimace in disgust, reminding him of another point of confusion: where Darcy said he had been found. Not that Wickham had never been by the south docks before, but none of the pubs or gaming dens that he frequented were anywhere near that district. He had no idea what could have taken him to that area, nor what he could have done to warrant being beaten so savagely. His easy manners generally recommended him everywhere and he was sure he would not have risked playing less than honestly in such an unsavory part of town. There was always the possibility of a jealous lover of one of his recent conquests seeking revenge, but he could recall none with past or present entanglements to cause him alarm. Perhaps a common robbery?
As the throbbing in his head increased, Wickham reluctantly left off his musings and beckoned a nurse. Some things were best left for later.
Wickham was much improved when Darcy returned a few days later. He was wrapped in considerably fewer bandages and his face was now recognizable. The ward in general was noticeably cleaner than it had been on Darcy's last visit, and there was an additional nurse on duty. Darcy was pleased to see that his recent donation to the hospital had so quickly been put to practical use.
"You are looking better, Wickham."
"Thank you, I feel a bit better; that is, I don't feel quite as awful." They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.
Eventually Wickham looked as if he were about to speak, paused for a moment, and then looked the other man in the eye. "Darcy, I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but why are you here? How did you know about... this?"
"The constable that found you contacted me. You had been dressed unusually well for that part of town so he inquired at the pub if anyone knew you. The barmaid recalled seeing you earlier that night; she did not know your name but remembered you had made a toast to my father. The constable sought me out hoping I could identify you." Darcy did not add that he almost had not been able to.
"I'm surprised he took the trouble. Or that you did."
"It's no trouble, Wickham," replied Darcy with more ease than he felt. To be honest, he would have preferred to send one of his staff to deal with Wickham's misadventure; but for his father's sake he felt he should see to it himself. Given his university days, Darcy had not been totally surprised by what had happened to Wickham, just that it had happened so soon after his move to London. But it was a moot point; regardless of the circumstances, he knew what was due his father's memory.
"If I may, Darcy, I'd like to ask a favor," Wickham said hesitantly. "Please don't mention any of this in your next letter to my father."
Darcy stared at him with more confusion than disapproval. "Your father?"
"Yes. He hasn't been himself since your father's death. Another tale of my misdeeds would do him more harm than good."
"Your father?" Darcy paused, not sure how or if he should continue. Wickham was perfectly serious, and despite his injuries, his mind seemed well enough, yet such a request indicated otherwise. "George," Darcy said softly, "your father passed away nearly two months ago."
"What?!" Wickham exclaimed in alarm.
"You were in Derbyshire for the funeral, we both were. Do you not remember?"
"If this is your idea of a joke, Darcy..." he was briefly interrupted by a fit of coughing, then continued. "I was in Derbyshire a few months ago for your father's funeral, not mine."
"It has been over a half year since my father's death..."
"...in March. It is now July; that can hardly be considered half a year."
"It is September, George. Your father died in July."
"It can't be!" Wickham held the other man's eyes, hoping to see some sign of deceit, but there was none. "He is dead?" He finally whispered.
"If it is any comfort," said Darcy, "he died peacefully, in his sleep."
"I don't remember."
"You came up for the funeral the following week. You returned to London at the beginning of August, after our business was settled."
"Business?"
"You asked for compensation in lieu of the eventual Kympton living."
"I do recall deciding against orders shortly after I moved to London in the spring. I intended to call on you about it the next time you were in town."
"You discussed it with me a few days after your father's funeral. You said you decided against taking orders and planned on studying the law."
"We discussed it?" Wickham knew he sounded like an imbecile, but frankly, he felt like one. How could he lose two months? He had no memory of anything Darcy was speaking of.
"More than discussed it, we agreed to it. I had the papers drawn up and wrote you a draft for three thousand pounds."
"Three thousand pounds!"
"You agreed it was fair compensation."
"More than fair, I should think."
"You did at the time," Darcy replied dryly.
"That's a tidy sum when added with the legacy your father left me."
"You thought it adequate to live on while pursuing your law studies."
"Four thousand pounds!" Wickham, looking extremely pleased with himself, sat in silence for a time, then stated with a start, "I wonder what I did with it?"
"Don't you know?" said Darcy in alarm.
"I didn't know I had the ruddy fortune ‘til now -- how am I to know where it is?" He cringed as the pain in his head got worse. He slumped further down on the cot; he had to stop thinking so much.
"What is the last thing you can remember?" Darcy asked.
Wickham squinted his eyes in thought; it looked painful even to Darcy. After a moment he said, "Elsie."
"Elsie?"
"Elsie, the new girl at the pub near my flat. " He lowered his voice, "I finally got her to come home with me. She was delightful, promised to meet me after closing time the next night, too."
"And did she?"
"I... I don't know. I only recall that one time."
"Do you remember the date?"
"It was the first of the month, the landlord knocked at an ungodly hour that morning demanding the rent. I happened to have it, too, thanks to your father."
Darcy acknowledged it absently, and then leaned closer. "I sent you an express the day your father died, that was the ninth of July. You would have received it by the eleventh, do you remember it?"
"Not at all."
"We know you received it, for you arrived in Derbyshire on the fourteenth."
Wickham squinted painfully once more, and then shook his head slightly.
"I'll have to take your word for it. The last I remember is going back to bed after Elsie left that morning, then I woke up here, half-dead."
Darcy shook his head at the absurdity of the situation, that the man had had the funds he had always craved, but no memory of having had it. "Leave it for now, Wickham. Perhaps you'll remember more in a day or two."
"And if I don't?"
Although Darcy was loath to get further involved in the man's affairs, he admitted to himself a desire to know, at least for his father's sake, what had become of the bequest. "If you'd like, I can make inquires. Perhaps the money can be traced."
Wickham nodded, reassured by Darcy's words. He trusted Darcy to sort it all out and put things to right.
Part Two
Posted on Tuesday, 25 September 2007
Four thousand pounds, thought Wickham after Darcy had left, he could barely believe it. Never had he imagined having so much so easily. It meant freedom. He could go where he wished, do what he wished, be with whomever he wished, heedless of disapprobation - from London or Derbyshire. The late Mr. Darcy truly was the best of men. Thanks to his generosity Wickham would be able to move to a more respectable part of town - once he was on his feet again - and hire a manservant to take care of his more mundane needs; he had always wanted his own valet.
To live like a true gentleman; it was what his father had always hoped for him, what his godfather had expected of him. Pity, thought Wickham, that they both had not lived to see him achieve that goal. Granted, his broken body needed to mend before he could truly be an independent gentleman, but until then he had no objection to taking advantage of Darcy's unexpected good will and recovering at that man's expense. No objection at all.
It was more than a week before the Darcy family physician, who had visited the hospital several times, deemed Wickham fit enough to be moved. As it was, the trip to the Townhouse proved to be an extremely painful ordeal which left the patient in no condition to converse with his host until the following day.
Wickham breakfasted in the late morning, with the help of a manservant. The servant was just clearing away the breakfast tray when Darcy entered the room.
"Good morning, Wickham. How are you feeling today?"
"Like I got in the way of His Majesty's Dragoons, but better than yesterday."
"I trust everything is satisfactory?"
"Yes, thank you. This room seems... familiar."
"It is the one you stayed in when Father brought you with us to Town about ten years ago. Mrs. Weatherby thought you would be more comfortable here."
Wickham again was surprised by the unexpected consideration he was being shown. What had gotten into Darcy?
As the servant made to exit with the breakfast tray, Darcy stopped him with a gesture, saying "A moment, Jeffries,"
Wickham glanced at the man. He, too, looked familiar; very like one of the lads he had known as a boy. "Lenny?"
"Mr. Wickham." The servant nodded in acknowledgement.
"You may remember Jeffries from Pemberley," explained Darcy. "He came to London a few years ago to serve as a footman and has been training to be a valet. He will be assisting you during your stay."
"I took the liberty of having some of your things brought from your residence, Mr. Wickham."
"That in itself took a bit longer than anticipated," added Darcy. "We had trouble locating your lodgings."
"You must have had the direction when you sent me the express," Wickham reasoned.
"We did, but you no longer lived there. You moved after returning from Derbyshire last month."
"Did I?"
"Apparently. Luckily Jeffries was able to locate Miss Connelly at the pub you had mentioned. She had the direction to your new establishment in Cheapside."
"Miss Connelly?"
"Miss Elsie Connelly," Jeffries specified.
"Oh, Elsie. I never knew her last name," Wickham said dismissively. So he had moved to a more respectable part of town: Cheapside. It was quite a few steps up from his previous abode. "So I moved to Cheapside," repeated Wickham thoughtfully. And Elsie knew of the move. If she knew that, she likely knew more. "Darcy, Elsie must be able to shed some light on my past few weeks."
"Not entirely, I'm afraid."
"You spoke to her? What could she tell you?"
"Jeffries?" Darcy said, prompting the man to continue.
Jeffries nodded to his employer, then turned to Wickham. "She was a bit upset..."
"Naturally. I must have been missing for over a week; she must have been worried for me, not knowing if I was alive or dead."
"That did not seem to be her concern at the time, sir."
"Why? What did she say?"
"She said as far as she was concerned, you could crawl back to that... ah...um... hell. She said you obviously preferred it to her."
Wickham was near speechless, "Pardon?" he stammered.
"I imagine she was referring to a gaming hell," Darcy said helpfully. Wickham looked to Jeffries to explain.
"Yes, sir, I believe that was Miss Connelly's meaning."
"But Elsie adores me," said Wickham in confusion, "I don't understand."
"I do not believe sir, that you and Miss Connelly parted on the best of terms. She said you returned from Derbyshire in good spirits and quite confident that your fortune had been made. You often bought a round for the pub and toasted the late Mr. Darcy or your father. You had told her that you had had a bit of luck and were moving to a better locale. She said shortly after removing to Cheapside, you began frequenting more exclusive gaming establishments than had been your habit. It was not long after that, she said, that you abandoned her company for that of what Miss Connelly called 'high-priced tarts and floosies'."
"She said that?"
"Actually, she used a few more... colorful and descriptive terms, sir."
"Oh."
"I also spoke to your landlord," Jeffries continued.
"Go on..." Wickham prompted, although he feared what might be coming.
"He said it was not uncommon for you to return in the early morning with a female companion... or two. He had had complaints from your neighbors about the noise and lack of propriety of your... guests. He resolved to speak to you about his concerns, however never had the opportunity before your injury.
"I admit I like a bit of fun as much as the next bloke, but I'm sure I would never..."
"I'm afraid a number of your Cheapside acquaintances have corroborated his description of your recent behavior," said Darcy. "We also spoke to the proprietors of a number of the gaming establishments Miss Connelly mentioned. During your frequent visits you would win on occasion, but lost more often than not, were generous with the... young women... that are employed at such places for the clientele's amusement, and inevitably left with one of them by morning."
"I wish I could remember," said Wickham with a smile. "Can you tell me anything regarding my funds?"
"Very little. You drew the three thousand from my London account on your return to Town and deposited about half of it in the account that held the balance of your previous 1000 pounds. You withdrew nearly all of it two days before your... accident."
"All of it?" Wickham appeared alarmed for the first time.
"320 pounds remain in your account."
"Good lord - what's become of the rest?" he cried leaning forward, then collapsed in agony as his body rebelled against the sudden movement. Jeffries was quick to his side to help him lay down again.
"What's become of the rest?" Wickham whispered hoarsely.
"I know not," Darcy replied softly.
Despite numerous attempts, Darcy was unable to learn anything more about Wickham's missing funds. They could only assume that he was robbed of them the night of his attack.
Wickham was desolate. Not only had he lost his long desired fortune, but all memory of his enjoyment of it. He did not even derive comfort from the knowledge that a respectable balance remained, for although it was more than someone in his position generally had at his disposal, Wickham was loath to touch it. When he even thought of what remained he would get a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach recalling how much more there once had been.
His depressed mood hindered the healing of his body. He kept to his room the first fortnight, for although he was not totally bedridden, moving his body gave him pain and walking more than a few feet left him dizzy and exhausted. Such a long period confined to one place gave Wickham considerable time to reflect on what little Jeffries and Darcy had discovered about his missing two months. He had lived without restraint, drank and spent freely, gambled to excess, and enjoyed - by all accounts most liberally - the pleasures of the fairer sex. And it had cost him, almost his very life. Prudence had always been a word Wickham abhorred, but perhaps, he thought, he had finally learned its value. He resolved, once he recovered, he would lead a different life. But what that life would entail, he had no idea.
Eventually he was able to manage the stairs and move about the house with a minimum of discomfort. Early one afternoon the fifth week after his arrival at the Townhouse, Wickham approached Darcy in his study.
"I want to thank you again for all you've done for me, Darcy. I've trespassed on your hospitality long enough. As soon as I can make other arrangements, I'll be on my way."
"May I ask what your plans are, Wickham?"
"To be honest, Darcy, I have none. I have a bit to live on until something comes up, but I will admit that at the moment I'm not fit for much."
Darcy could not but agree, although he reminded himself that his father had held great hopes for his godson. With more his father in mind than Wickham, he had made a few inquiries.
"Have you considered keeping to your original plan?" he asked.
"The living?" Wickham replied in confusion.
Darcy cringed. His recent misadventure more than confirmed that Wickham was not cut out for taking orders in the church.
"I was referring to your plans to study law."
"That is no longer possible, you know that. The money I needed to live on is gone."
"That may be an advantage."
"What are you about, Darcy? Are you mad?"
"When we spoke of it at Pemberley you talked of living off the interest. But the whole of it appears to have been too much of a temptation. If you could pursue your law studies without having to worry about your upkeep, would you do it?"
"I don't see how that is possible."
"An associate of my solicitor is in need of some clerical assistance. The salary is not enough to support law studies as well, but I am willing to make up the difference. If you are still interested in that profession..."
"You offer too much, Darcy. We both know I've done nothing to deserve it."
I agree, thought Darcy, But my father thought differently so...
"Consider it a second chance," he replied.
Wickham owned that although he had toyed with the idea from time to time, he had never seriously considered taking up law. From what he had been told, once he did have the funds to pursue that line of study, he had moved most decidedly in the other direction. But it had once been his father's profession; perhaps he could do likewise. He certainly had no plans of his own. He could give Darcy's suggestion a try, especially if Darcy was willing to part with his money so easily. With nothing to lose, Wickham agreed.
Three months later found Wickham working as a clerk in a solicitor's office while half-heartedly studying law under Darcy's sponsorship. He was miserable but swore he would make a go of it, if for nothing else than to show Darcy he could succeed at something.
One sunny February day however, Wickham was nearing his breaking point. He was making use of the Darcy library for a bit of research his employer required. Even he had to admit that his eyes were more on the window than the volumes he needed to search through that day. He was just contemplating how long his remaining funds would last if he were to leave his current wretched position when Darcy's cousin Major Fitzwilliam entered the room.
"Excuse me, Wickham, I was hoping to find Darcy."
"No, he had gone out before I arrived."
"So I've been told. The butler also mentioned that you were here."
"Darcy sometimes allows me to make use of his library for my studies."
"Yes, uh, very good of him, that."
It was obvious to Wickham that the Major's opinion of spending a day in the library coincided with his own.
"Your cousin has been very generous. I'm quite indebted to him," Wickham said diffidently.
Something in Wickham's tone, perhaps a touch of sarcasm, made the Major pause. He did not know Wickham well, but even from their slight acquaintance he could see that the man appeared out of place. Of course it was the Major's opinion that anyone would be out of place in a library on a day such as this.
"How are you doing, Wickham? You took quite a beating last year. Are you back to your old self again?"
Personally Wickham didn't think he would ever be back to his old self. The man that had squandered his fortune and nearly gotten himself killed with his cavalier ways was gone - and good riddance. He also had a decided dislike for what occupied his current self, but Wickham could not very well say any of that to the Major.
"Nearly good as new, Major. Aside from my hand being a bit stiff, I'm well enough."
"I've been stuck this last week writing reports for my commander and am in serious need of some activity. I stopped in to see if Darcy could join me. As he is out, would you be interested?"
Wickham was more than up for it, Fitzwilliam could see it in his eye. Then the man's shoulders slumped considerably as he looked at the table before him.
"I'm afraid I shall have to pass, Major. My time is not my own." No, he thought ruefully, he owed his time, studies, employment, his very existence to Darcy. Nothing was his own.
"Is that something that could, perhaps, be put off for a few hours?"
Wickham weighted what needed to be done against the temptation to be gone from it. The temptation won out.
"I would be happy to accompany you, Major. Lead on."
Part Three
Posted on Wednesday, 3 October 2007
Darcy noted the disarray in his library with some disgust. He had thought was just a matter of time before Wickham returned to his old habits, and his escape with Fitzwilliam in the face of all this paperwork was a fair indication. Wickham was performing adequately, in his work and his studies, according to the solicitor he worked for, however Darcy suspected the man was reporting what he thought Darcy wanted to hear.
As he heard a commotion in the hallway, Darcy turned to the nearest shelf and pretended to be searching for a book. A moment later Wickham entered the room with Major Fitzwilliam.
"... please thank your surgeon again for examining my hand."
"An injury such as yours is quite common in the field. I am glad he gave you some assurance that it should return to full strength in time. Oh," said the Major on seeing his cousin. "Hello, Darcy."
"Fitzwilliam, Wickham," he nodded.
"Sorry to leave the place in such mess, Darcy. I'll have it put right immediately."
"No need, Wickham. If you are in the middle of something..."
"I am rather. I've a few more hours ahead of me, but I'm a bit done in for the day. Do you mind if I return to finish tomorrow?"
"Not at all."
After Wickham had bowed his farewells and left, Fitzwilliam noticed Darcy shake his head slightly.
"You don't look too pleased, Darcy," remarked the Major.
"I am more disappointed than displeased. However I can not say I did not expect this of him."
"Expect what of him? Putting off a bit of dull work on the first fair day we've had in a month?"
"The weather is irrelevant, Fitzwilliam. The man has obligations; he should not have shirked them."
"Gad, you sound more like my father than my younger cousin. If you are going to blame anyone, blame me. Wickham refused to join me at first, but I pestered him into it. I could see the man would rather be elsewhere."
"Where exactly was elsewhere, if I may be so bold as to inquire?"
"A number of places. We did a bit of riding, shooting, sword-play; Wickham did quite well. We had dinner at the mess before returning here."
"I heard you mention a surgeon."
"Yes, our field surgeon was in the mess when we arrived. Wickham had mentioned his bad hand still bothered him, so I asked the surgeon to take a look at it. He recommended some exercises he could do to regain more flexibility"
"I wasn't aware his hand was still amiss."
"There is a lot you aren't aware of."
"Meaning?"
"It's obvious Wickham is not cut out to be a clerk or a lawyer. His disposition is more suited for an active career. He's got the makings of a decent soldier. If I were you, I'd cut my losses and purchase him a lieutenant's commission."
"It was his idea to study law. I am merely assisting him in the endeavor."
"The man is miserable and he's doomed to failure; but that's just my opinion."
"Finally, something we agree on!"
"You expect him to fail?"
"I know Wickham. Too well. I doubted his intention to study law when he approached me last summer, but I was more than happy to have him relinquish my father's preferment. The life he led on his return to London proved my doubts were well founded."
"And now you would rather he suffer through preparing for a career he's ill-suited for instead of one in which he could excel, just so you can be proved right again?"
Darcy didn't answer, but Fitzwilliam could see he was beginning to see reason.
"Just make him the offer. If he refuses, at least you can say you gave him a choice. If he accepts, His Majesty gains another soldier for the realm."
"Yes, but will His Majesty ever forgive me?" asked Darcy.
"It doesn't matter. Wickham won't be your problem anymore. He will be out of your life."
Given that incentive, Darcy immediately agreed to make the offer to Wickham the following morning.
Wickham was surprised to find Major Fitzwilliam with Darcy in the breakfast room when he arrived at the Townhouse the next day. He was even more surprised when Darcy asked if he had any interest in joining Major Fitzwilliam's regiment.
"Fitzwilliam believes you've some natural inclination towards that profession and is determined that I purchase you a lieutenant's commission."
Wickham didn't know what to say. As anxious as he was to leave his law studies behind, he was nearly as reluctant to admit as much to Darcy. He had never understood why Darcy had been so generous to him these last few months; although he speculated it was mainly due to the late Mr. Darcy's memory, he also suspected the son's expectations for his success were decidedly low.
Now he was being given an opportunity to move on to a more palatable situation. He had to admit that he had enjoyed the glimpse of military life that he had seen the day before. The satisfaction of making a well aimed shot was infinitely preferable to struggling all day over a legal draft that one's employer barely acknowledged. Though he was more indebted to Darcy than he could ever repay, he saw nothing wrong with accepting the commission he offered. Wickham would consider himself more than entitled to accept it from his godfather had he lived, why not his son?
But something inside him did not feel quite right about it. The compensation for the living had come to him easily, and just as easily slipped through his fingers and right out of his memory. Perhaps if he had a more personal stake in this opportunity, he would be better able to retain it.
While Wickham was considering these things, the Major addressed him. "I'm sure you know not all days in the Army are spent as we did yesterday. There is arms training and drilling of course, but there is also a good bit of more mundane yet critical tasks, such as seeing to the needs of the men under one's command, maintaining equipment and, regrettably, paperwork. Not to mention the dangers of war, both on and off the field. We lose more men to disease during a campaign than we do in battle. It is not an easy life, but I think it's one you're well suited for, Wickham. What do you say?"
"You expect him to accept after that recommendation?" asked Darcy incredulously. "I thought you actually wanted him to consider it?"
"I do," replied the Major, in an offended tone. "But he has to know that it's not all excitement and glory. There is a down side, too."
Darcy shook his head at his cousin, then turning, said, "Wickham?"
"I accept," he said, "On one condition."
"Yes?"
"That you allow me to pay for half of the commission myself."
Now it was Darcy's turn to be surprised. He had never seen Wickham offer anything at his own expense before, especially when it was totally unnecessary. Fitzwilliam was right, there was more to Wickham than he was aware of. Perhaps he had been underestimating the man. This seemed a decided improvement.
"Very well, Wickham," he said extending his hand. "Agreed."
It was nearly four years before Darcy saw Wickham again. Although the two had corresponded briefly early in Wickham's career, most of Darcy's knowledge of the man's military exploits had come through Major Fitzwilliam. Darcy had been pleased to learn that his cousin had been correct about Wickham; he had indeed excelled in the Army. His fellow officers had no complaint of him and he was firm but fair with men under his command. He acquitted himself well in battle and his men knew they could count on him to do his part, even in the worst of times. He behaved respectably in his off duty hours as well; he was discrete where women were concerned, avoided gaming, and did not drink to excess. Fitzwilliam recalled seeing him drunk only twice while they served together, though one of those times Fitzwilliam admitted that he had been drunk as well.
Wickham was a model officer who served with distinction in a number of campaigns on the Continent, eventually returning to England to recover from some minor injuries before being reassigned. He and Darcy met again, quite unexpectedly, at a dinner being held by his new commander in the town of Meryton in Hertfordshire.
Darcy was able to take Wickham aside after dinner for some private conversation.
"I hear congratulations are in order, Captain Wickham; a field promotion for both you and Fitzwilliam, and well earned I'm told."
"Thank you, Darcy. Though Colonel Fitzwilliam tends to exaggerate in the retelling, it truly could have gone either way. I'm just glad we were able to make it a success with minimal casualties."
"You being one of the casualties."
Wickham shrugged, "A scratch on my leg and a graze to my arm, nothing compared to the docks. Both healed nicely within a month. The marquis who was the principle owner in the valley we secured was very grateful to my men. He made sure our wounded were well cared for and gave each of us a substantial gift. Your cousin joked that we no longer had to seek rich wives."
"Are you seeking a wife then?" asked Darcy drolly. The idea of Wickham as a settled family man would never have crossed his mind.
"I wouldn't say that," Wickham laughed. "Although a quiet life is beginning to look more appealing than it once did. However, due to the kindness of the marquis, I am able to repay what you put up for my commission and the law study expense as well."
"I, on the other hand, see no need to accept it. Keep your reward, Wickham. It was well earned."
"You are too kind," he bowed. He knew better than to argue the point in such a setting. Changing the subject he asked, "How is your sister? I haven't seen Miss Darcy since your father's funeral."
Darcy noted that Wickham did not recall seeing Georgiana at Pemberley the summer he had returned for his own father's funeral, but was thoughtful enough not to correct him. It seemed Wickham had not regained his memory of that time.
"She is well and no longer in school. Aunt Catherine treated her and my cousin Anne to a trip to the seaside this summer. It was a fortuitous arrangement as the companion we engaged for Georgiana was not free to accept the position until September."
"And Miss Darcy weathered your aunt's company well? As I recall the woman could be rather intimidating."
"My sister had been hoping for a trip to the seaside for some time so was willing to brave my aunt. She enjoyed herself quite well, possibly because Anne retained most of my aunt's attention.
"Ah yes, your cousin Miss de Bourgh. Has Lady Catherine gotten her wish and am I to wish you joy?" asked Wickham, referring to that lady's conviction that Darcy and her daughter were destined to wed.
"No, but I will pass those sentiments on to my cousin. Anne is engaged to a gentleman she met in Sanditon, a Mr. Parker. As he is a younger son, Aunt Catherine wouldn't hear of it at first, but I'm proud to say my cousin held her ground. Anne is of age and determined to have him, so my aunt finally had to agree to the match. They will marry in the spring"
"And the gentleman?"
"Arthur is a pleasant enough chap, the youngest son of the prominent family in the area. I met him when I joined them to escort Georgiana to Town. He is a bit mild mannered but was beginning to exert himself more towards the end of my visit, especially when his sister and Lady Catherine were together. Miss Parker considers herself an expert in all manner of health remedies. It was amusing to watch the conversations she had with my aunt; each was determined that her own position on any topic was correct. Conflict was inevitable. Arthur acquitted himself admirably in the role of piece maker where they were concerned. He has the potential to be an excellent diplomat."
"And what of Lenny, is he still with you?"
"Jeffries? He's with me, yes. He became my personal valet when Hughes retired two years ago. He will be returning to London in a few weeks, however. His wife is due to give birth to their second child in December."
"He has married? Who is the lucky girl? One of the Pemberley staff?"
"No, he met his wife in London. An acquaintance of yours, if I recall: Miss Connelly that was."
"Connelly? I don't know any..."
"Miss Elsie Connelly," Darcy reminded him.
"Elsie? Really? Well, good for them both! He's a lucky..." Remembering the company he was in, Wickham caught himself before a crude word could escape. "And children, too?" he added.
Darcy nodded affirmation but was prevented from answering further by the approach of two gentlemen. He introduced them as his friend Mr. Bingley, at whose home he was staying, and Bingley's brother-in-law, Mr. Hurst. Bingley lost no time in inviting Wickham to join them for sport at Netherfield. Wickham agreed, stating he would as soon as his duties allowed.
Unfortunately, his duties did not allow. The next day he was required to make a trip to London on military business and was not able to return to Meryton until the following week.
Wickham could not believe that he had been with his new regiment for nearly a fortnight and was still missing some of the most basic items required by an officer. He had been many years abroad and much of his gear was worn and in need of repair or replacement. He had hoped to make most of the required purchases while in London, but his off-duty hours had been short. On his return to Meryton Lieutenant Denny, a young man in his regiment who had accompanied him from Town, offered to take Wickham around and introduce him to the local tradesmen with whom he was acquainted.
On exiting one of the shops, Denny's attention was called to a pair of young ladies, girls really, who he introduced to Wickham as the Misses Catherine and Lydia Bennet. They were soon joined by their older sisters, Jane, Elizabeth, and Mary. The ladies in turn introduced the officers to their cousin, a Mr. Collins. They were all agreeably engaged in conversation when the party's attention was drawn by the approach of two gentlemen on horseback.
Earlier that day, when Bingley suggested that they ride to Longbourn, Darcy knew it was a mistake. He should have tried harder to discourage Bingley from going, or at least declined to join him. Granted it was common courtesy to inquire on Miss Bennet's health once she had returned home, especially after her illness, but Darcy was loath to see her sister Elizabeth again. Or rather, he longed to see her again, which was why he knew he should not. He liked her entirely too well.
They were just passing through Meryton when Bingley noticed Miss Bennet and her sisters standing in front of a shop. He quickly dismounted and joined the eldest Miss Bennet in conversation. Darcy, following suit at a more leisurely pace, had just determined not to fix his eyes on Miss Elizabeth, when they were suddenly arrested by the sight of Wickham in conversation with that very lady.
Darcy's first thought was concern for Elizabeth; the opinion he had held of Wickham for so long was one of a womanizing wastrel. His second, after reminding himself that Wickham was now considered an officer and a gentleman, was one of alarm. Elizabeth appeared to be enjoying their conversation and was smiling quite agreeably at the captain. Darcy quickly collected himself and approached the two with as credible a composed expression as he could muster.
Wickham noted the serious look that briefly passed over Darcy's face, but assumed it was merely surprise at seeing him in town. The two men nodded politely at one another, then Darcy turned to Elizabeth.
"I trust you found everyone well on your return home, Miss Bennet."
"Thank you, yes," was her short reply.
He stood awkwardly before them for a moment, thinking of nothing more to say. She did not feel inclined to speak further to him and he did not want to give her, or Wickham for that matter, the impression that he had intentions of any sort toward Elizabeth. Small talk was never his forte and the other man's presence added considerably to his discomfort. For his part, Wickham thought it odd that Darcy would greet them cordially, then just stand there like a stick.
"Please extend my apologies to your friend for not calling last week," Wickham said, breaking the silence. "I was prevented by duty."
Darcy, responding that he would, unconsciously smiled at the thought of the Wickham of old having any concern about duty. The brief brightening of the normally dour man's face was not lost on Elizabeth. She could almost imagine him agreeable. It was a pity he smiled so rarely.
After gaining Bingley's attention, Darcy bowed his farewells and the two gentlemen rode off again, leaving Elizabeth to wonder how the captain and Mr. Darcy were acquainted and Wickham to wonder why Darcy had behaved like such a dolt.
Part Four
Posted on Wednesday, 10 October 2007
Duty nearly prevented Captain Wickham from attending a supper party the next day. Happily between him and his fellow officer Captain Carter, they were able to sort most matters out to their commander's satisfaction, allowing the two to arrive only a half hour late to the function.
The party took place at the home of a local attorney, Mr. Philips, who was an uncle of the Bennet sisters, the ladies Mr. Denny had introduced Wickham to the day before. All the sisters were quite pretty, particularly the eldest, and Wickham was hoping to become better acquainted with them. Miss Bennet however was busy playing whist at one of the card tables so Wickham took a seat next to the second eldest, Miss Elizabeth. Although she was already engaged in playing at lottery tickets, she was not so engrossed in the game that it prevented conversation.
At first they spoke of the weather, it being a wet night, and on the probability of a rainy season. Then recollecting his invitation from Mr. Bingley, Wickham inquired how far Netherfield was from Meryton; and, after receiving her answer, asked how long Mr. Darcy had been staying there.
"About a month," said Elizabeth; and then, unwilling to let the subject drop, added, "He is a man of very large property in Derbyshire, I understand."
"Yes," replied Wickham; "his estate there is a noble one. You could not have met with a person more capable of giving you certain information on that head than myself, for I have been connected with his family in a particular manner from my infancy."
Elizabeth could not but look surprised.
"You may well be surprised, Miss Bennet, after participating in our very brief exchange yesterday. Although he does not talk to excess, Darcy is rarely at a loss for words."
Wickham was suddenly struck with a possible answer for Darcy's unusual behavior. She was before him.
"Are you much acquainted with Mr. Darcy?" he asked.
"As much as I ever wish to be," cried Elizabeth, "I have recently spent four days in the same house with him. I'm sorry to say, I think him very disagreeable."
Poor Darcy. If Wickham's suspicions were correct, he was in for a difficult time of it. Granted, a man like Darcy was probably overdue for a difficult time, but he had been particularly kind to him in his hour of need. Perhaps Wickham could do him a good turn now and soften the blow a little.
"Disagreeable? As did I at one time," replied Wickham with a laugh. "And at that time, I am sure he had a thorough, determined dislike of me as well. Although we grew up together, by the time we reached university we moved in quite different circles. The fact is, we were very different sort of men. I found his companions arrogant and conceited; I know he found mine imprudent rabble rousers. But I have found people and opinions change with time."
"You no longer find him so? Upon my word, he is not at all liked in Hertfordshire. Every body is disgusted with his pride."
"It is wonderful," replied Wickham, "for almost all his actions may be traced to pride; and pride has often been his best friend, and mine. Although his pride never deserts him, it has often led him to be liberal and generous, to give his money freely, to display hospitality, and relieve the poor. No, Miss Bennet, I no longer find him disagreeable; not at all."
When Elizabeth seemed skeptical, Wickham added, "I owe my very life to him. Shall I tell you the story?" At her nod he began.
"The late Mr. Darcy was one of the best men that ever breathed, and the truest friend I ever had; he was my godfather, and excessively attached to me. I cannot do justice to his kindness. He meant to provide for me amply, and thought he had done so. You see, a military life is not what I was intended for, but circumstances eventually made it eligible. My godfather wished for the church to be my profession; I was brought up for the church, and I could at this time have been in possession of a most valuable living. However shortly after his death I thought it more practical to give up my claim to the living for monetary compensation; Darcy had no objections and readily complied with my request."
"Agreeing to an equitable exchange hardly qualifies Mr. Darcy for acclaim."
"Granted, but there is more to the story. I had barely received the promised compensation when, through my own stupidity, lost all; I was robbed, beaten, and left for dead in one of the worst sections of London." Miss Bennet was shocked indeed.
"I have no doubt that were it not for the kindness of the present Mr. Darcy, I would not be alive today. Although he owed me nothing, when he was told what had happened, he personally came to my aid, brought me into his own home, and provided me with the very best of care."
"More than your due, I am sure, as his father's favorite and godson. But how terrible it was for you, to be set upon so! It must have been awful!"
"In truth, I remember nothing of that night, nor much of the weeks before. I lost more than my fortune that night."
"Your very inheritance. What did you do?"
"I reflected, mostly on how foolish I had been; I could do very little else. And though I cannot commend myself of having really done any thing to deserve it, Darcy continued to support me during my recovery and even arranged for employment in my field of study. Later when I desired a change to a military career, he arranged for a commission for me in his cousin's regiment. His father was the best of men, Miss Bennet, but the son is no less so."
"This is such a different account of that man than we have witnessed here; your story puzzles me exceedingly, Captain. He himself was boasting one day, at Netherfield, of the implacability of his resentments, of his having an unforgiving temper. I had supposed him to be despising his fellow-creatures in general, so would never suspect him of such solicitude as you claim. Can we be speaking of the same man?"
"We are. I fear we are none of us consistent; Mr. Darcy can please where he chuses. He does not want abilities. He can be a conversible companion with those he knows well."
"Apparently he knows few well in Hertfordshire."
"So it would seem. He can be a very different man among those with whom he is familiar. He can be liberal-minded, just, sincere, rational, honourable, and perhaps even agreeable. He is a very kind and careful guardian of his sister; and you will hear him generally cried up as the most attentive and best of brothers."
"What sort of a girl is Miss Darcy?"
"As a child, she was affectionate and pleasing, and extremely fond of me; and I devoted hours and hours to her amusement. I have not seen her since her father's death, but I understand she is a handsome girl, about fifteen or sixteen, and highly accomplished."
"So I have heard, from her friend Miss Bingley."
They continued talking together with mutual satisfaction till supper put an end to cards; and gave the rest of the ladies their share of Captain Wickham's attentions. Elizabeth allowed that he had given a very rational account of it all, and soon began to ponder how a man attributed by Captain Wickham with as much goodness as Mr. Darcy could have so little appearance of it.
The next few days brought continuous rain and precluded any thought of Wickham joining the Netherfield gentlemen for sport, but he was content to know he would see the place soon enough; Mr. Bingley had invited the officers of the regiment to a ball to be held there the following Tuesday.
The rain did not stop the captain from procuring the last of his required purchases, however. Thus he was confident on the night of the ball that his uniform, complete with the requisite buckles and bangles, were all in proper order and he looked just as dashing as any of his compatriots. These last three weeks he had worked hard to establish himself in the regiment and in his new rank, he was more than ready for some amusement. He had seen many attractive ladies in Meryton, and even met a few. This was to be his first formal affair since his return to England and he intended to make the most of it.
Meanwhile Darcy was having mixed feelings about the impending ball. He would have to tolerate the inferior society of the neighborhood and the inane small talk that went with it; and he would, for Bingley's sake. Miss Bingley would inevitably whisper a stream of snide remarks about fine eyes into his ear, but thankfully she would be too busy acting as hostess to tease him much. It would be a long, tedious evening. However, he was looking forward to seeing Elizabeth Bennet again. Undoubtedly she would be at her best; she would be stunning, pert, vivacious. Perfect. And totally unacceptable.