by C. J. Hill
“Wickham! Wait for me; my goodness, you do walk very fast. Wait, Wickham!”
Wickham stiffened as he heard his name and her voice, slowly turning about to face her: it was not a welcoming look upon that face and Lydia’s pleasure quickly dimmed in the glare.
“What are you doing here, Miss Bennet? How did you, of all people, come by an introduction to Mrs. Bracecourt’s, may I ask? This is most irregular – where is Mrs. Forster, pray?” He looked anxiously about him as if hoping to summon that lady from where she was hiding. “I presume the Colonel does not know anything about this visit, but I hope you did not come alone?”
Lydia laughed, “Oh, no! Of course not. I came with Harriet but she would go home; she felt the company to be something which her husband would not approve and so I told her to leave me: I wished to watch you play and knew you would see me home again.”
“Your friend has a great deal more sense than you possess, Miss Bennet. The notion! An unaccompanied young lady without a chaperone leaves your reputation, again, open to speculation, on top of your recent behaviour about which everybody who knows of it has commented. What were you thinking? You should have left as soon as Mrs. Forster wished to do so.”
“I do not care what people may say about me,” Lydia claimed, “as they talk about everybody the same; whoever does anything out of the general way is discussed minutely it seems. It brightens a great many lives, I am sure, for what would they have to talk about without us to entertain them?”
“Nonsense! If you do not care about your own reputation, then think how it affects that of your family. Although your name is not well known hereabouts, it is still known and you never know who is talking to whom and what they may pass on. How would your sisters feel if they knew of your behaviour this week? I think that neither Miss Jane nor Miss Elizabeth would approve it. Now, take my arm and I shall escort you home where, I hope you will stay and not plan any further outings of such a dubious nature.”
Happy to have a second opportunity in one week to take the arm of Wickham, but equally unhappy with his words and the tone in which they were delivered, Lydia felt all the conflicting joy of her fleeting situation mingled with the distress of its reason and his opinion of it. In silence, therefore, they walked back to the house of Colonel Forster, whereupon Wickham bowed curtly, and removed himself with alacrity.
Chapter 31
Wickham took great care for the next week to avoid any possible contact with the Colonel, his wife, and their guest; Lydia Bennet was clearly intent upon pursuing and capturing him, deluded as she appeared to be in her powers of attraction and suitability. Her success with other gentlemen, managed solely by her gregarious and unrestrained manner, could only be of a fleeting nature; no gentleman could wish to become attached permanently to someone with so little regard for decorum and propriety.
Indeed not. Gentleman understood that daring behaviour and talk, while amusing for an evening, palled very quickly upon repetition. Wickham had noticed already a marked falling off of attention towards Lydia from some of her former admirers, including Denny, Carter and Pratt; they no longer preferred her company over any other and did not discuss her amusing manner as they once did upon returning to the barracks after an evening’s entertainment. Lydia’s star was certainly losing its brightness only four weeks into her sojourn in Brighton; there were many other, much more suitable and just as entertaining, young ladies to be found who were much less likely to cause condemnation for their actions.
He had another reason to avoid such company; happily for all concerned, except the anxious hosts and young ladies attending, the Colonel had relaxed his directive regarding the attendance of his officers at every social event, finally allowing that even he found the constant whirl of parties monotonous; the repetition of guests, gossip, and entertainments increasingly impossible to bear.
This relaxation afforded Wickham and others the chance to reinstate themselves at their preferred haunts, and, of course, Wickham’s preference was to be wherever he could join a card game and practise his sleight of hand. He did not attempt it every evening - to do so would invite trouble - however, he was winning enough to make him feel that, before long, he would be able to return to London and Julia, give up his commission, and start afresh. This time he would work harder to accomplish his goals. He missed Julia terribly, as, although they corresponded regularly, he had been refused every request for leave. Summer training in Brighton was much more important than that in Meryton over the Winter, it appeared.
He had returned several times to Mrs. Bracecourt’s house which was the prime place to recoup a great deal in winnings as the guests were all, without exception, wealthy, and careless about winning or losing great sums of money every night; the type of characters with whom Wickham had great experience and knew how to charm and put at ease, lulling them into a comfortable association with him. They thought him to be one of them and accepted him as such: he did nothing to dissuade them of that fact. He was a gentleman officer with a connection to the great Pemberley Estate; his company was entertaining, his manners charming, and his luck at the tables intermittent.
But he prepared his path carefully; he must wait until there was enough on the table to make the gamble worthwhile, not spoil his chances through haste or greed. He was someone whom they thought little about other than to comment encouragingly when he managed a small win: commiseratingly when he lost.
Towards the end of one particular evening, he decided to chance his luck. The situation was exactly as he wished and he felt certain of his success. He played several rounds and then, as he needed it, removed the card from its hiding place and folded it into the others in his hand. His confidence was supreme; everybody at the table was focused more upon another young man who had placed an enormous amount of money upon the table and clearly believed that his hand was the winning one. No one expected Wickham to have any answer to him. One by one the other players showed their hands and accepted defeat with good grace.
Wickham modestly placed his winning hand upon the table amid howls of disbelief from the other young man: it was not possible! Colour at once suffused the gentleman’s face and then drained away as he realised the consequence. It was all he could do to nod weakly at Wickham, admitting defeat, before draining the remains of his wine, gathering his friends about him, and rising shakily from his seat.
“You have outdone me, sir. I congratulate you. Although certain of my success, it seems that I miscalculated. Good fortune is yours tonight.”
Wickham nodded and waited for his opponent to leave the table before collecting his winnings, privately rejoicing at the amount. Only one or two more evenings such as this and he would certainly be able to carry out his plans!
A figure loomed at his side as he rose from his chair; Wickham recognised him as a gentleman from a previous game of several weeks ago at another house and, instinctively shrank back a little.
“Another lucky last-minute win, eh, sir?” the man slurred, pushing his face into Wickham’s, expelling rank breath with every word. “How fortunate that you managed to pull back from the brink just when you needed to, just when all seemed lost, eh? That poor fellow suffered a similar fate to me, did he not now? Thought he was the winner and ended up the loser by the final turn of your cards.”
Wickham drew back and smiled calmly, hiding his inner fear. “I am always happy when the cards finally play in my favour, as is everybody, I am sure. I can assure you that it does not happen very often, and I rejoice in my success when it does. I have had my fair share of losses, just as does everyone who thinks they can beat the odds. Perhaps we shall meet again, sir, and I will be the loser against your hand. Good evening to you, sir.”
“I do not think I care to come up against one such as you again, sir!” the man yelled, causing many to look around. “Such luck does not occur as conveniently for me as it seems to for you. Everybody expected you to be the loser when you played in my game, just as it was expected here tonight. I would question su
ch fortuitous luck, sir.”
Wickham, aware of all eyes upon him, including those of Mrs. Bracecourt, drew himself up in the manner of one affronted but aware of the state of his accuser and spoke calmly again.
“If you were not so incapacitated, sir, and we were not surrounded by those of the gentler sex, I would call you out upon such a comment. There is nothing for which you can accuse me, and even by veiling those accusations, it is no less insulting. I would remind you to think very carefully before accusing a gentleman of underhand behaviour, and in public. If you do not like to lose, then you have no business at the tables and I urge you to stay away from them, for you will continue to lose, I assure you. Everybody does, it is the law of the game. Now, delay me no longer, sir; I wish you a goodnight.”
Wickham made his way through the crowds with as indifferent a manner as he could manage, accepting murmurs of sympathy from some of his acquaintance as he passed. Breathing a sigh of relief upon gaining the street he made all haste back to the barracks, a lone figure cutting his way through the still-crowded streets.
As he counted his winnings for the evening, and adding them to his already considerable stash, Wickham realised his hands were still shaking from the unpleasant altercation. Perhaps it might prudent to lay low for the next several nights before venturing out again into the gambling world of Brighton. He calmed himself with the thought that the man was unknown to him and probably so drunk that he would likely not remember anything of the matter the next morning.
Still, he knew caution was the wiser path to take, and for at least a week avoided all entertainments. Not surprisingly, his friends missed his company and insisted they all must attend a grand party being held that evening offered by a new person in town; a party which promised to surpass even Mrs. Bracecourt’s with its possibilities for elegant company, delicious food and drink, varied entertainment, and, most importantly, large, deep pockets at the gaming tables. Wickham demurred; he worried he had not been out of circulation long enough, privately dreading a second confrontation with the gentleman. But his friends insisted, agreeing that he may decide to leave if he did not find it the most interesting evening he had enjoyed for a long time.
So it was with trepidation that Wickham entered the new premises, making a point of staying far away from the tables as he passed from one group of familiar faces to another. As he was making himself agreeable to a very pleasant young lady by the name of Miss Armisted, who seemed to be rather interested in his life story and exactly why he was so concerned in the welfare of her friend Miss Bennet, the young lady herself appeared at his side and slid her hand beneath his elbow in her usual familiar manner.
“Wickham! How delightful! Finally, you have reappeared in our midst; did you run off to London as you are wont to do, or were you cast in irons for some dreadful misdemeanour the Colonel omitted to tell us of?” she laughed gaily, delighted at her ability to claim the acquaintance of the most handsome man in the room.
“Miss Armisted! Good evening! As you see, Mr. Wickham and I are very well acquainted, as I said; we have known each other for many months – since before Christmas of last year when he visited my family - and quite my gallant protector now I am away from my family. He is such a support; I do not know what would have happened the other night when I fell ill if he had not rescued me.”
She smiled brilliantly at Miss Armisted and then Wickham.
“Wickham; why do not you ask me to dance? There is still room in the line; I swear I shall die of disappointment if I do not dance!”
Wickham, grudgingly led Lydia to the next room to her very great satisfaction; she had won the first battle with that Lucy Armisted, and she intended to win them all where Wickham was concerned! She smiled happily at him as the music sounded its warning notes.
“This is a very elegant affair, is it not, Wickham? I wager you will not find better company anywhere in Brighton tonight. What were you and Miss Armisted talking about so intently, I wonder? Did it include me? - for you know she is quite jealous of me and my connections to you.”
Wickham smiled and waited until the exchange of partners had been completed before answering.
“Actually, it was about you and my interest in your welfare, if you insist upon knowing. But do not think that it signifies anything, Lydia, I merely explained the situation so that any rumours of us being linked romantically will be quashed forthwith; I believe that Miss Armisted is the person with enough connections to assist in that endeavour.”
“Ohh! Is that what is being said about us, Wickham? Well, I do not mind that at all; indeed, I believe in my fragile state the other night I might have given you some indication of my feelings, for which I suppose I should apologise, if it made you uneasy, but I will not pretend to a lack of feeling where the opposite is true.”
“Lydia!” hissed Wickham, colouring at her brashness, “there can never be anything between us: I thought I had made that perfectly clear. I feel a responsibility to your family who have been so kind to me, that is all; I shall continue to act on your behalf if necessary, just as I did the other night, but do not imagine it to be anything more than that. Now, say no more on the subject and try not to attract attention to yourself this evening; I do not know how long I shall stay and cannot guarantee your safety.”
Lydia, inwardly smiled at his words, choosing, as usual, to ignore everything he said that he could not possibly mean.
“But, surely I am not the most unhandsome girl you have looked upon, Wickham?” she pouted. “Nor the least amusing? Surely you do not need to be so harsh towards me, Wickham; all that I want is for you to pay me the smallest attention.” She sulked visibly as she left his side and danced down the line with the next gentleman; the interim minutes during the dance were interminable for her, waiting as she was for his response. It came soon enough.
“My intent is not to hurt your feelings, nor be harsh towards you. Of course you have grown into an attractive young woman, Lydia; a fact of which you are perfectly aware due to all the attention you receive from the officers. But you would do well to learn from your sisters, your older sisters, and copy their example; they attract attention because of their charming manners and restraint whereas you have every possibility of frightening it because of yours.”
Brightening at his obvious concern for her, Lydia conceded a little.
“But they are so dull, although I suppose they are pretty enough in their own way, and can be quite amusing.”
“They are sensible and understand their situation very clearly. Your sister, Elizabeth is, as you say, very handsome and amusing; a conversation with her is entertaining and full of intelligence, and that is what attracts people to her.”
“Regardless of her lack of fortune,” Lydia muttered angrily at the mention of her sister’s name and his obvious continuing admiration for her. “I should marry anyone whom I loved deeply, regardless of his situation in life; love is much more important than wealth.”
“Then make sure that your feelings are reciprocated, if you care not about his fortune, for without at least some security that love will be severely tested. You should understand that before you devote too much time and attention on any person, or bring ridicule upon yourself.”
He bowed as the dance ended and escorted her back to the Forsters who were busy talking with friends and had not particularly noticed Lydia’s absence.
She watched him walk away and thought to herself: “You will learn that I am not to be ignored when I set my mind to something, Wickham!”
He was not left long in his silent contemplation of Lydia’s veiled proclamation and what else he could do to dissuade her of her imagined affection for him, when Denny approached and informed him that there was a new card game starting and they were lacking a player. Wickham refused; he had had enough anguish for the evening and wished to return to his lodgings rather than face any other person whether male or female. But Denny would not take “no” for an answer, assuring Wickham that it was merely a group of quite u
nskilled players from whom he should be able to win something if he wished to do so.
Wickham reluctantly agreed and followed Denny into the room and greeted his fellow players, relieved to see that none of them were of his acquaintance, and, as usual, it did not take long before the lure of winning caught him up entirely and an hour or more passed very pleasantly; Denny had not lied – the others were moderate at best in their abilities and Wickham, although ready to do so, had no reason to use his usual tricks.
Chapter 32
The change of players had occurred so gradually during the game that Wickham had not noticed who had taken the place of whom, his eyes fixed as they were upon the cards in front of him, his attention focused for that hand when the winning card safely ensconced in his sleeve would improve his fortunes once again. But upon hearing the new voice across the table, Wickham lifted his eyes to observe to his horror the same man who had so rudely accosted and accused him only a week since; the very man whom he had hoped not to meet again in similar circumstances, and now, here he was, in the flesh, across the table, staring at Wickham in the most intimidating manner, a grim smile of satisfaction thinning his lips.
“And so, we meet again, sir! How fortunate indeed; now I shall have the chance to regain my losses from our last meeting. I trust you will not have a sudden turn of fortune, as you did then, sir. I think you understand my meaning, do not you?”
“I am sure I do not, sir,” claimed Wickham in the coldest voice he could summon. “Thus far this has been an honest table this evening and I hope it remains so. We would all look to any new-comer for an explanation of sudden changes in fortune, rather than to someone who has played all evening enduring the vagaries of the game.”
