He had meant to warn that a gentleman had no intention to make an offer — but it was not Bingley whose intentions he wished to specify. It was his own.
The tension Elizabeth had felt since her nightmare dissolved as she became certain. They had danced together twice every evening it was possible; they spoke together at length any time they were together in company; while Jane had been at Netherfield sick they saw even more of each other. She had noticed they were behaving as a couple. Of course Darcy had as well. He wished to protect her from disappointed hopes. In her mind and heart Elizabeth thanked Darcy for his belatedly understood meaning.
Given she always knew he would not offer for her, and did not wish him to, Elizabeth was surprised to find that in addition to her relief, she felt so hurt by the rejection as to nearly come to tears. For a moment she felt angry that he would not ignore all the considerations that stopped him. Was she not good enough?
Elizabeth eventually laughed at herself, it always amused her to note these inconsistencies in her own mind: she did not wish him to be attached, but still was disappointed when he told her he was not. It was a silly vanity.
Elizabeth thought further about this two days after Jane returned from Netherfield, as she walked back to Longbourn after a visit with some tenants. Her initial disappointment was entirely gone, she only felt a sense of satisfaction about her friendship with Mr. Darcy, and pleasure that it had been settled as merely friendship — but why that merely? Friendship, all the philosophers and poets agreed, was of great import, life without friends would hardly be worth living. And, now that she considered it, the idea that the only affection which could exist between a man and a woman was marital affection offended Elizabeth. It ought to be possible for any rational creature to be friends with any other rational creature.
She and Darcy were friends, and would remain friends. And that was perfect. In a pleased mood Elizabeth hummed a popular Irish air she had danced to with Darcy one afternoon when Mary played at Netherfield.
Upon Elizabeth’s return to Longbourn she was rushed by Kitty and Lydia. They had met a gentleman named Mr. Wickham in Meryton when they walked out to visit Aunt Phillips and the milliner. Mr. Wickham was a friend of Mr. Denny, a young officer who had already made a favorable impression on the neighborhood. Wickham intended to enroll in the militia on the next day.
According to Kitty, Mr. Wickham was a paragon: the most charming, the most handsome, and the easiest mannered man she had ever seen. Lydia, while still committed to disliking any man admitted he looked very well, and behaved equally well.
“Oh! He sounds most impressive,” Elizabeth smiled at her sisters’ description, “will I have an opportunity to meet this astonishing gentleman?”
“You will!” Cried Kitty, “Aunt Phillips invited him to cards tonight, along with us — and he accepted!”
Lydia added, “Something strange occurred. As Mr. Denny and Mr. Wickham walked away from us Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley rode up; Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham recognized each other. Then Mr. Darcy refused to acknowledge Mr. Wickham — he turned and rode the opposite direction when Mr. Wickham tried to greet him.” Lydia paused in her narration, “I wonder why they mislike each other so — perhaps Mr. Darcy mistreated him horribly.”
Elizabeth laughed, “You may choose to dislike Mr. Darcy merely because he is my friend, but for my part I am convinced if they do indeed dislike each other the fault is on this Wickham’s side. We do not know the situation though, and should not speculate.”
After her sisters’ story, Elizabeth was all curiosity for the party that evening. Not only would she to meet an exemplar of charm and looks, she might discover the real relationship between this Wickham and Darcy.
When Mr. Wickham entered her aunt and uncle’s rooms Elizabeth found him to be quite as handsome as promised. In easiness of manner, and the friendliness and charm of his countenance Elizabeth had seen no man better. Though Elizabeth rather thought Darcy’s features were superior.
Wickham was the happy man to which every female eye turned, and Elizabeth was the happy woman to whom Mr. Wickham’s eye turned. Elizabeth expected as much. Since she inherited Longbourn from Mr. Collins most single gentlemen entering the neighborhood showed a decided preference for her company. It perhaps explained why she found it easy to like Darcy: as she’d told Lydia once, he was too rich to be attracted by Longbourn.
Wickham was all charm and flattery, and despite Elizabeth’s innate suspicion of both any young man, and especially of a man who Mr. Darcy appeared to dislike, she found herself laughing and smiling with him. And he was an excellent player of the card game Mrs. Phillips had provided for amusement. However, Elizabeth’s curiosity burned. She could not think up a good stratagem to indirectly ask her question, and had just resolved to directly ask it when Mr. Wickham brought the subject up himself.
“I have been told you are friends with Mr. Darcy.” Wickham said in a hesitating manner “Is he likely to remain in the area long?”
“I hardly know,” Elizabeth replied, “I do believe he intends to stay at least several weeks more.” Elizabeth felt sad as she reminded herself that his presence in the neighborhood was not permanent.
At this Mr. Wickham hmm’d and was silent for a minute in evident thought. They completed a full round of the game with the only noises made being requests for cards. Elizabeth at last asked in further curiosity, “Will his presence in Meryton affect your plans?”
“Oh! No — I have no need to avoid his company.”
At this Elizabeth inquired, “From what my sisters told me, it is evident the two of you are acquainted, might I ask how?”
“In truth we have been connected since infancy,” Wickham replied.
Elizabeth was all astonishment at this, and begged Wickham to tell the full story. However, Mr. Wickham demurred, “As you must have heard from your delightful sisters, Mr. Darcy and I are on poor terms, and it would hardly be proper for me to lay out my complaints against him to one of his friends.”
Such a reply hardly was what Elizabeth’s curiosity wished to receive, and she hoped, or rather suspected, from his manner that with encouragement he could be brought to speak, “Come now, I may consider myself a friend of Mr. Darcy, but I’ve not known him for much more than a month. Besides you say you were connected with him from infancy, it hardly would be a complaint against Mr. Darcy to explain that.”
Mr. Wickham inclined his head to accept her argument, “My father was old Mr. Darcy’s steward, and due to their closeness I was the godson of Mr. Darcy’s father. We were childhood companions.”
“What sort of man was his father,” Elizabeth asked most curious about her friend’s parentage.
“The very best, you could ask anyone in Derbyshire and they would agree — he was the best master, the best landlord, and truly my best friend.”
“Why then are you and Mr. Darcy opposed?”
“It would hardly be proper for me to speak against the son of my beloved godfather, and to air our quarrels in public. However, as we grew Mr. Darcy came to dislike me. I believe it was in part jealousy over his father’s affection for me. Though his father truly loved his son, I believe the younger Mr. Darcy disliked how my charm and easiness of manner could entertain his father more than Darcy’s own stiffness.”
While it sounded petty, Elizabeth had spent too much time with her own mixed feelings about her parents to be surprised if Mr. Darcy had been hurt, perhaps accidentally, by his own father. And though it would be irrational to dislike Mr. Wickham for his father’s preference, in Elizabeth’s view it would hardly be blameworthy. Still. “I can see how Mr. Darcy might come to dislike you for that, but he would hardly refuse to acknowledge you or mistreat you — I’ve seen enough of his character to know that he is scrupulously proper in his behavior.”
“He is, however, after his father’s death we quarreled over a living old Mr. Darcy intended for me. My godfather had intended me for the church, and my education had tended toward that. But, Mr. Da
rcy did not wish for me to become his clergyman, and, while the intention of my godfather was clear, the terms of the will had sufficient vagueness to allow Darcy to interpret them as he chose. Darcy gave me some compensation for giving up the living — I am sure he considers himself as having acted properly in the matter — but the value given was woefully insufficient to maintain the manner of life I have been brought up to expect.”
While Elizabeth acknowledged it was her own prejudice that led her to feel this way, she thought the story hardly put a good light on Wickham’s character. A single man, with no dependents and a solid amount of capital — and Elizabeth did not doubt at all that the value Darcy gave was more than sufficient to allow a man a good start in life — should not complain about an inability to meet their expected standard of living, but rather should reduce their expected standard of living and set out to build a greater income if they wished to achieve it later in life. Elizabeth certainly knew had she been in Wickham situation that is what she would’ve done.
Also the story seemed incomplete, “That hardly explains how he came to cut a childhood companion in the street.”
Mr. Wickham shifted in his chair, and nervously rubbed his thumb along the edge of his cards. His manner clearly told Elizabeth he regretted allowing the conversation to go in this direction, “I said some most intemperate things to Mr. Darcy. I believe I insulted him in a manner that was most unbecoming his consequence, and my interests. It was the foolishness of youth, and I heartily regret my actions, but Mr. Darcy is a harsh man and his dislike once earned is permanent.”
Elizabeth had heard Darcy say as much about himself once, which did make Wickham’s story more plausible. However Elizabeth was still sure he hid something, and his charm no longer charmed. In their conversation a week earlier at Netherfield Darcy talked about how some men were charming and appeared good, while being snakes underneath. Darcy said he spoke of a specific person. Elizabeth thought it likely that person was Wickham — certainly he was all goodness and charm on the outside, but at the very least his story showed a definite want of character.
The two continued to converse about other topics, the weather, the society, and the geography of Meryton. However, Elizabeth’s heart was not in it, and Wickham seeing the distance which had grown between them soon turned to others for conversation. For her part Elizabeth resolved to apply to Darcy about Mr. Wickham. If he was to be resident in Meryton for the next months it would be best for her and the local society to know more of his character.
However, it proved unnecessary to worry, as the next day when Elizabeth’s sisters returned from Meryton — Kitty had hoped to see Mr. Wickham again — they burst into the sitting room and Kitty exclaimed in tears, “The most horrible thing has happened, Mr. Wickham decided that he no longer wished to enter the militia here in Hertfordshire, and is already returned to London! I fear I shall never be happy again!”
Elizabeth’s countenance was pleased at this news. The extravagance of Kitty’s sadness at the loss of a man she had known for barely a day was amusing, but more importantly Elizabeth was really pleased to hear Wickham would not join the neighborhood. The more she had thought on his story the worse she had thought of him, and the event of his leaving suggested he feared what more Mr. Darcy might have to say about him.
The day after this Darcy came with Bingley and his sisters to deliver the invitations to a ball which Bingley intended to hold at Netherfield. Darcy had earlier expressed some interest in the rare volumes which Elizabeth’s father had collected, so while Bingley and Jane happily ignored everyone else in the sitting room, and Miss Bingley endured Mrs. Bennet’s conversation Elizabeth took Mr. Darcy to her study to show him the books.
Elizabeth pulled several of her most impressive volumes from the shelves and watched as Darcy carefully fingered through the yellowed paper of a first edition folio of Shakespeare’s works. He really was very handsome in his green coat. With a smile Elizabeth brought up Mr. Wickham, “The other day I met a very old acquaintance of yours.”
“Oh.” Darcy said in a concerned manner.
“Yes, he was quite possibly the handsomest and best mannered gentleman I have ever met.”
Darcy’s face grew pained, “Elizabeth, while Wickham may be blessed with the semblance of goodness, he has none of its substance. Should you meet him again, do not let yourself be deceived by his happy manners — he is a fortune hunter and has many vicious propensities. If would pain me very deeply if I were to see you taken in by him.”
Elizabeth stepped forward and touched the arm of Darcy’s coat, “I merely wished to tease you, as it was clear you were not on good terms — his conversation about you had already shown he was not of good character. I apologize for my joke. I should not have made it. I am not surprised to hear how serious his failings are.”
Darcy studied her face then relaxed, “I’m glad to see you were not imposed upon by him — it would be no fault if you had, he has taken in many good people with his happy manners: my father was one.”
They were silent and Darcy pretended to examine the folio, then he looked at Elizabeth with a sigh, “You wish to hear the story of our acquaintance.”
Hoping to lighten the mood, and show Darcy that he truly had no obligation to expose his affairs Elizabeth smiled impishly at him, “Of course not, after all I am entirely without curiosity.”
As Elizabeth hoped Darcy laughed at her description of herself; the frown the thought of Wickham had given him disappeared, and his good humor shifted his face into a very handsome expression greatly superior to Wickham’s.
“I know that to be quite the opposite of the true case. I am not surprised you would claim such though — we have been acquainted long enough for me to discover that you occasionally find great enjoyment in professing opinions which in fact are not your own.”
Elizabeth now laughed heartily herself, “Please, do not spread this knowledge around, it would destroy my credit in the neighborhood if they learned my true character.”
After another smile Darcy’s expression flattened and he spoke of Wickham, “I do not know what he told you, however, his connection with my family goes back to birth.”
As Darcy paused, Elizabeth said, “He told me as much, your father was his godfather. Your father hoped him to enter the church, but you did not wish him to be your clergyman and instead gave him a — how did he describe it — woefully insufficient compensation for the value of living intended for him. At this point his intemperate words earned your eternal dislike. As he fled at the possibility I might beg you for more details I am certain there is more to the story.”
Darcy blinked, “That gives a better picture of myself than I expected, I had believed him to normally imply he received nothing for the living, and perhaps that I have actively sought to stymie his career — which I assure you I have not, I have better uses for my time and resources. That story is true in essentials, though he received three thousand for the living, which hardly seems woefully insufficient given that the holder of Kympton was not yet sixty and could easily have lived — though sadly he did not — for another two decades.”
“I rather believe he would have exaggerated the story, were it not clear I intended to ask you for confirmation. Three thousand is hardly a small amount of money, my uncle started in business with less than twice that amount.”
“I agree, and Mr. Wickham had four thousand, as he also received a one thousand pounds bequest from my father. I had, before my father’s death seen him to show a decided want of principle in his behavior, my father saw nothing of this as Wickham was far more guarded in his presence. When my father died Wickham claimed he was decided against taking orders, and wished to study law. I knew Wickham ought not to be a clergyman, and readily agreed to his proposal. At this time we agreed on a sum of three thousand to compensate him for the loss of the living and we did not communicate for the next three years. Upon the death of the incumbent of the living though he contacted me again, he had somehow spent the enti
re sum —”
“Four thousand pounds in three years!” Elizabeth exclaimed, “As a single man!”
“I knew him to gamble in college — and his tastes can be expensive. He had lost the entire sum, but not established himself at law and was in some distress. He now wished to take orders. He entreated me to respect my dear father’s intentions and provide him with the living, you certainly can understand my refusal, however following it in his later letters he abused me violently, and I have no doubt he attacked my character to others.”
At this point Darcy stopped, and then said with a solemn manner, “There was one further incident between us, however, as it involves the good name of another party it is not a story to share lightly, and as Mr. Wickham seems to have left the neighborhood merely on the threat of exposure I think there is no need to share it.”
Elizabeth suspected much of Darcy’s true dislike for Wickham came from this last incident, but she certainly would not push him to speak. Instead after a quiet period where Darcy pretended to read one of her books Elizabeth chose to tell Darcy she had, eventually, understood his message a week prior.
“I have thought on what you said regarding my connections to trade, and how it will affect our ability to marry.”
Darcy grew still as he waited for Elizabeth to continue, and when she did not he said, “I hope you did not find it horridly forward, or insulting for me to speak such.”
Elizabeth smiled hoping to show she really was not insulted, “Not at all, I am sensible you really did me a favor by speaking so. And friends ought to be able to speak anything to each other. In truth it relieves friends of worry when they know where they stand with each other, and what they ought to expect. It allows you to behave as you wish, since there is no worry of misperception.”
Mr Darcy and Mr Collins's Widow Page 8
