I truly hope you save the young woman from herself.
We announced our engagement the following morning. I was dismayed with how unsurprised the staff and tenants were, but it only seemed to amuse Thomas. He held my hand while he told our kitchen full of employees, who smiled and congratulated us.
“It’s about time you both admitted you’re meant for one another,” the cook said.
She then burst into tears, which she dried on her apron. I reflected that her apron seemed to see more tears than flour, for she was a very neat cook. At least this time, her tears were shed in happiness.
It was one of the days Thomas worked with the lawyers, and I was a bit taken aback at how much I didn’t wish for him to go. I was, I realized, just as bad as any silly girl in any foolish book, devastated by the thought that the man I loved would be away from me for hours. Thomas either sensed my misery or felt the same, for he led me into his office, closed the door, and proceeded to kiss me so soundly that I thought it would keep me from missing him during the day, but of course I was wrong about that.
I wondered how soon we could be wed. Now that he’d confessed his love, and I’d admitted mine, it couldn’t be soon enough for me. I hurried back to my room to fix my face and hair, glad no one saw me on my way.
Before I could settle myself to work, there was a knock on the door, though it was rather early for visitors. I went to open it, knowing the maids were hard at work. To my surprise, Mr. Darcy was on our steps.
“Mrs. Younge,” he said, his tone clipped.
“Mr. Darcy. I didn’t think to see you again.” I said it with surprise, not rancor, but his expression darkened. In my excitement over my engagement, I’d all but forgotten about Mr. Darcy and his quest for Miss Bennet.
“You gave me no choice,” he said. “I’ve found no other information about Miss Bennet’s whereabouts. I will concede to your demands, though I can’t see what you hope to gain.”
I shook my head. The man was so arrogant, so sure he was correct in his judgement of me. Did he really think I would go to the trouble if not in the right? “I hope to be vindicated, Mr. Darcy,” I said. “You never allowed me anything in the nature of a hearing. I was tried and punished without a chance to defend myself. Is that how you would wish to be treated?”
He eyed me. His grim expression gave me no indication of whether or not my words had any impact.
“As I said, I am willing to pay your price,” he finally said. “I suppose you will have me on my knees in apology before you’ll tell me where Wickham and Miss Bennet are?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “I am not in the business of debasing and humiliating people. If I have your word that you’ll speak to Miss Darcy, and make every effort to get to the truth of the matter, that is good enough for me. I’m happy to tell you where Mr. Wickham and Miss Bennet were, and perhaps still are, staying.”
Mr. Darcy blinked. I could all but read the pain that rearranging his thoughts was causing him on his face. Obviously, he wasn’t accustomed to having to reevaluate his opinions.
“You have my word, then,” Mr. Darcy said. “I will endeavor to find out what, as you say, truly happened. I can’t promise it will change my mind about you. I certainly won’t hire you back.”
“I don’t wish to be hired back,” I said. I allowed myself to smile slightly. “I make more now than I did working for you.” I could tell that surprised him. “Nor do I need any promise of change from you, sir. I’m not entirely sure you’re capable of such.”
His frown was back. “Fine. May I know where you last knew Wickham and Miss Bennet to be?” he asked, his voice cold.
I told him, adding, “I truly hope you save the young woman from herself.”
“I’ll do my utmost,” he said. He nodded courteously enough. “Farewell, Mrs. Younge. I don’t anticipate we shall meet again.”
I shrugged, stepping back inside and closing the door softly. I didn’t think Mr. Darcy and I would meet again, either. I smiled, elated that I really didn’t care.
Later, I found out that Mr. Wickham and Miss Lydia Bennet were married. I stumbled upon the information by accident, as they were wed in the church Thomas and I attended. Mr. and Mrs. Wickham were married there the week after Thomas and I were. A small part of me was both pleased and amused that we were married first.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I’ve learned that many of my judgements about people were wrong.
It was September before I saw Mr. Darcy again. I truly hadn’t expected him to return and, since becoming Mrs. Thompson, I hadn’t really cared. Still, I was intrigued to see him at my door, and by the two people who were with him. I recognized the man as Mr. Younge, the grandson of my first husband. After a little thought, I realized the woman was his wife. She was about my age and I wasn’t surprised she’d changed since I’d last seen her.
“Mrs. Younge?” Mr. Younge asked tentatively.
“I’m Mrs. Thompson now,” I said. I could see Mr. Darcy’s surprise at that. “Please come in and meet my husband.”
I performed the introductions, wondering why Mr. Darcy would possibly have brought my late husband’s grandson to my door, and how he’d even located the man. Both Mr. and Mrs. Younge went wide-eyed when they saw Mr. Thompson, but Mr. Darcy showed as little reaction to my husband’s scarred face and missing eye as he had the first time he’d come to our door. We all settled into chairs and, as we did so, I realized there was something different about Mr. Darcy. He seemed less arrogant, perhaps even less stiff, than before.
“Would anyone care for refreshments?” I asked.
“No, thank you,” Mr. Darcy said. “We don’t intend to take up much of your time, Mrs. Thompson, Mr. Thompson.” He turned to Mr. Younge, who perched on the edge of his chair looking nervous, and nodded.
“I’ve come here to apologize for my father,” Mr. Younge said, the words tumbling a bit in his haste. “He lied to you.”
“He lied to me?” This certainly wasn’t the conversation I’d expected.
“He lied to you about my grandfather’s will. My grandfather left you five thousand pounds. I know it wasn’t a lot, considering his wealth, but he also expected that my father would give you a home, though that was, I gather, a verbal understanding and not in writing.”
“He used to brag about it before he died,” Mrs. Younge interjected, looking less nervous and more indignant. “He said he drove you away. He said that if you were too foolish to realize his father would have settled something on you, then you didn’t deserve the money.”
“We tried to find you,” Mr. Younge said, clearly anxious I believe him. “We even advertised in The Times.”
“I wasn’t reading the newspapers then,” I said, unable to think of anything else to say.
I looked back and forth between them, stunned. All these years, I’d worked and struggled to save, thinking my late husband had wronged me, doubting every moment of happiness I’d thought I’d brought him, and none of it had been true. He had cared for me. He’d meant me to be secure, with an income and a roof over my head.
“Well, the money is yours,” Mr. Younge said, the words sounding as if they were coming from far off, making their way through the spinning in my head. “It’s over seven thousand now because of the interest. We’ve kept it invested, hoping we would find you someday. In truth, I rather forgot about it.” He looked to his wife, shrugging.
She reached out and patted his hand, and I reflected that they’d grown into nice people. Mr. Younge obviously took after his grandfather, not his father, which was a good thing. I tried to recall the name of their first child, whose portrait I’d done for my late husband, but couldn’t. I shook my head, trying to clear it.
Seeking some notion of what I should be doing or saying, I turned to Thomas. He met my eye, his expression amused. Say thank you, he mouthed.
“You’re giving me seven thousand pounds?” I said instead.
“It’s over seven thousand,” Mr. Younge said.
“We’d also like to extend our apologies.”
“I can’t imagine how you must have felt, cast out like that,” Mrs. Younge said, her expression one of sympathy.
I nodded, still at a loss for words.
“I also have this for you.” She stood, pulling out a letter and walking over to where I sat. “It came for you years ago. I couldn’t forward it, so I kept it.”
It hadn’t been opened. I recognized the handwriting as Susan Clifford’s. She was the woman whose reference I’d paid Mr. Thompson to forge, the one I’d help ready for her trip to Canada.
I took it, noticing that my hand was shaking. In truth, I felt like all of me was. “Thank you,” I said, tucking the letter away. It had waited for years. It could wait a bit longer.
Mr. Younge stood as his wife walked back to his side, signaling for the rest of us to rise. “We’ll be going, then,” Mr. Younge said. “I’m glad we finally found you, Mrs. Thompson. It’s been many years, but it’s a relief to know we can put this right.”
“You have no notion of what this means to me,” I said. I hoped they knew I didn’t mean the money, although the money certainly meant a lot. Knowing I hadn’t really been worth so little to my husband and the family I’d done my best to embrace was worth much more than seven thousand pounds. “Thank you. You’ve set right my faith in the goodness of people.”
“Even knowing what my father did?” Mr. Younge asked, the worried look back.
“He was one man,” I said. “Both of you and your grandfather have shown yourselves to be good, decent and caring. What are the acts of one man compared to all of that?”
He nodded, smiling for the first time. He offered his arm to his wife.
“I’ll show you out,” I said.
“We know the way,” Mrs. Younge said. “I believe Mr. Darcy said he must speak to you as well.” She smiled, her dimples reminding me of the young woman she was when last I saw her, and then they were gone.
I turned to Mr. Darcy. “Shall we be seated?” I asked, deciding not to offer refreshments again.
“Thank you,” he said. We sat, Mr. Darcy’s gaze going to Thomas. “I would like to speak to you about Ramsgate, Mrs. Thompson.”
“My husband knows all about what happened at Ramsgate,” I said, “though no one else does.” I didn’t think there was any need to bring up Miss Hodges.
“Then, sir, I appreciate you not making it public,” Mr. Darcy said to Thomas. If Mr. Darcy was displeased with me for having spoken of it, he didn’t allow it to show. He turned back to me. “I want to apologize to you. I’m not saying you handled things perfectly, but my sister made it plain that you weren’t at fault. She also didn’t realize how my actions at the time would hurt your chances of employment.”
“I realize I didn’t handle it as well as I could have,” I said. There was no reason to hide the truth. “I should have sent Mr. Wickham packing immediately. If I’d done so the first day, he wouldn’t have had time to work his magic on her. If I’d been more self-assured and followed my instincts, none of it would have taken place.”
“Looking back, I realize that he did fit our agreement of who Georgiana was allowed to spend time with. Also, I understand how I may have seemed inconsistent in my choices, making your decision more difficult. I had no idea what the Martins were like.” His gaze grew abstract for a moment. “I’m afraid I’ve made a habit of judging people based on station alone. A bad habit.” He refocused on me. “I thought you, like most women seem to, had come under Wickham’s thrall, or that he’d bribed you, or you were so romantic you approved of the elopement.”
I gave an unladylike snort. “The only way Mr. Wickham would be able to bribe me would be cash in advance. I never trusted him.”
“You were unusual in that.”
“The one thing you did not consider was that he could have tried to blackmail me,” I said. Mr. Darcy raised his brows, clearly surprised. “That’s the closest to the truth, though I didn’t allow it to sway me. He had leverage. He wasn’t quite sure of his facts, which made his attempts easy for me to avoid.” I looked over to Thomas, who shrugged. He didn’t care if I wanted to be completely honest with Mr. Darcy. “I wasn’t entirely forthcoming with you, Mr. Darcy. After my first husband died, I tried to make a living as an actress. Mr. Wickham suspected he’d seen me in that role, but didn’t remember enough details to pressure me. I’m sorry I deceived you on that.”
He regarded me for a long moment, then, to my surprise, he actually smiled slightly. “It doesn’t matter anymore. In the last few months, I’ve learned that many of my judgements about people were wrong.” He stood up, so Thomas and I did too. Mr. Darcy held out his hand to Thomas, who shook it. “Mr. Thompson, I talked to some people about your injury. It’s too late for justice, but possibly not too late for reparation.”
I glanced at Thomas, surprised. Mr. Darcy’s investigation of the truths in my life had obviously been more thorough than I’d meant it to be, though he hadn’t uncovered my acting.
“No reparation is required,” Thomas said, his tone and manner easy. “I made my peace with what happened long ago.”
Mr. Darcy nodded. He turned to me. I held out my hand to him and he took it. “I hope whatever caused you to help Miss Bennet is resolved to your satisfaction,” I said, meaning it. What I kept to myself was that I also hoped that, whatever had wrought this change for the better in Mr. Darcy, he remained this way.
“Thank you,” Mr. Darcy said.
“I’ll show you out,” Thomas said.
After they left the room, I opened Susan’s letter. It was in two parts. The first part was short, and pulled at my heart.
Dear Mary,
I realized after I boarded the ship to Canada that you could use a letter of recommendation. I’ve written you one below. If called upon, I will confirm it.
Your Loving Friend,
Susan
The remainder was a letter of recommendation that praised me to the skies and claimed that I’d worked for her from two weeks after my first husband’s death until she left for Canada. She wrote that I’d tutored her niece in drawing, pianoforte, French and Italian, and that I’d run her household with great skill. Susan had known all about my acting. She’d been a good friend then, even better than I’d realized.
I stared at the letter, tears in my eyes. After so many years of thinking everyone I’d cared about had little affection for me in return, it was almost painful to find out the truth. My life had been one big misunderstanding, perpetuated by one cruel offspring and Mr. Darcy’s now-repented prejudice.
I reread Susan’s letter of recommendation. If I’d had this letter, my whole life would be different. I would have been able to get a good job, like the one I’d thought I’d found with Miss Darcy, as soon as Susan left for Canada. I would likely be living in a lovely home now, caring for the children of a girl I’d all but raised.
I folded the letter up and put it away. I would be forever touched and grateful that Susan had thought to send it. I would also be forever grateful that I hadn’t received it. With this letter in my possession, I would never have met Thomas and had this life, possibly filled with my own children and grandchildren. Now, I would have my very own happily ever after.
Epilogue: Twenty Years Later
Not long after the day Mr. Darcy visited us, Thomas received a thousand pounds from his former employer’s younger brother, who has now succeeded to his father’s title in lieu of his dead older brother. I don’t think Mr. Darcy paid the money himself, but I am fairly certain the money was only paid after Mr. Darcy spoke to the man.
Rather than let our considerable windfall stay in the bank and earn interest, we invested in another lodging house and found a couple to run it. Thomas always says that my greatest skill is my ability to assess people and know who is right for a job. I’m not sure if he is correct, but the couple we found was perfect and that house prospers.
As I write this, a great grandson of my first husband is courting Thoma
s’ and my daughter. They know we are not gentry, at least not anymore, but Alice’s dowry is enough that station doesn’t seem to be a consideration. We own quite a bit of property in London now and have expanded to some of the surrounding communities.
Our son is only sixteen, but he is being trained to run the family business. I was glad that my two pregnancies didn’t keep me from continuing to do my share, which mostly meant teaching couples how to run lodging houses. French, Italian, pianoforte, and drawing are now forgotten skills. Mr. Thompson and I are both proud of what we have achieved, not of where we came from.
~ The End ~
Wickham’s Journal
Mr. Wickham was our greatest challenge. He is the most active villain in Pride & Prejudice. He does much that is clearly wrong. It seems unlikely that he could reform, but we considered this as a possibility, because this book would not be complete without a nod to Mr. Wickham.
Wickham
Lydia Wickham crushed the black fabric of her skirt in her hand, wondering if she dared turn the page. She’d been going through her husband George’s belongings after his death and had stumbled on a journal. She’d no idea, all these years, that George kept a journal.
She was already wishing she’d never found it. From what she’d read so far, her husband was not the man she thought him to be. He was mean, low and petty. He’d done terrible things with little or no remorse. Reading his youthful indiscretions was gouging a hole in her heart.
Though George hadn’t taken the time to write with any regularity, he did seem to have written each time anything truly important happened. She’d already endured reading about him forcing Mr. Darcy to pay him off for the living he’d turned down, and about George’s failed attempt to elope with Mr. Darcy’s sister. Both had brought the extra dismay of realizing she’d wronged her own sister, for Lydia had never quite believed Elizabeth on either score. Until now.
Pride & Prejudice Villains Revisited – Redeemed – Reimagined: A Collection of Six Pride and Prejudice Variation Short Stories Page 24
