Wickham's Wife

by C. J. Hill

  Wickham paced the floor of his room, round and round the trunk which sat as if laughing at him for even thinking such an escape could be possible; why would an honest and upstanding businesswoman want to involve herself with a man such as she already knew him to be?

  It did not make sense.

  The more he paced, the more Wickham became convinced that she must mean to shame him before everyone, and her real wish was to detain him long enough so that his shame would be complete. She perhaps intended laying a trap for him; every one of his creditors would be there at the house waiting for him the next day. If he went to see her in a few hours, they would exact their payment from him; he would never escape! It would be madness to even consider the notion.

  No! Much better to continue with his original plan – un-gentlemanly and dishonourable as it was - and sneak away, now, before anyone was abroad.

  His mind made up, Wickham dashed off a replacement note to his landlady, even more succinct than the previous one had been, explaining urgent business called him away and he would contact her as soon as possible about his trunk, sealed it quickly and propped it upon the table. He realised that his chances of ever seeing the contents of the trunk again were very slight; upon learning of his flight, and guessing his intention not to pay his outstanding rent, she would be well within her rights to sell whatever was contained therein to offset his debt with her. This could not be avoided, but he already regretted the loss of his best blue coat and starched shirts most sincerely, perhaps more than anything else he was leaving behind him in Cambridge.

  His most essential items he packed into a smaller case which he could carry easily without raising too much suspicion; more of a business than a travelling case, it could easily be passed off as a carrier of important papers. After taking one more look around his room, this was the only possession he carried swiftly and silently down the stairs. The front door closed with a slight click behind him as the church clock struck two o'clock and he stepped out into the quiet street, looking quickly left and right. No one was about and the night was still.

  His intention was to hail a carter or farmer going out of town as soon as one passed him on the road, but as it was not yet light enough for any other person to be about their business, Wickham strode out down the street feeling a lightening in his heart as he put some distance between himself and all of his troubles.

  After walking for several miles, watching the pre-dawn glow slowly lighten the horizon, he sat down by a stile to rest for a while, close enough to the road that his position afforded him a view in both directions in case a wagon or cart should pass by.

  He was very tired. He had now had no sleep for the past two nights and his body was beginning to rebel at such treatment. Not only the lack of sleep tired him but also the terrible stress and threats he had endured recently; it was more than any healthy young man could endure without becoming exhausted.

  Wickham leaned his back against the lowest rail of the stile and closed his eyes in the weak early sunlight; the smell of damp earth and grass rose as it was warmed by the sun's rays; birds were already noisily foraging for food and the comforting smell of woodsmoke floated in the air mixed with the fragrance of flowers. It promised to be a beautiful Summer’s day, and while appreciating his surroundings and the freedom it afforded, Wickham hoped to be much further along on his journey by the end of it; he did not care much where that end should be but anywhere far from the vicinity of Cambridge would suffice his needs. The peace and increasing warmth slowly relaxed him and for a short while he slept; not deeply, but enough to refresh and enliven his mind a little.

  He jolted awake to find a small merchant’s cart stopped directly in front of him, shading the sun from his face, and this, without a doubt, was one of the causes of his abrupt awakening. The horse and cart were very still and had clearly been waiting in that spot for more than a moment; the horse, bored by inactivity, had already bent its head to the grass.

  Wickham shaded his eyes and looked to see who it was that drove the cart. He leapt to his feet in dismay: Mrs. Younge sat looking rather grimly at him, holding the reins in her right hand, and her bonnet on with her left. Her face was a mixture of anger and satisfaction - but both came under the very clear description of grim.

  "Mrs. Younge! I…I…What do you do here so early in the morning?" Wickham embarrassedly brushed the grass from his coattails as he spoke and ran a hand through his hair.

  Mrs. Younge looked down at him from the seat, her face giving nothing away. Her immediate dismay, felt in the early morning hour while standing at her parlour window, at seeing him scurry past her window like a thief in the night so short a time after she had offered him an honourable escape from his problems, was nothing to the disgust she felt at herself for the sense of loss she had experienced. A disappointed sinking sadness had overwhelmed her for an instant but she had also thanked her feminine intuition which had insisted she stand watch at the window in case of just such an occurrence.

  She had foolishly hoped and had already begun to plan for some kind of a life with this man so newly in her acquaintance; she had thought she had him under her power, if only, for the moment, with the money she had promised to outlay, but then to witness his obvious and surreptitious rejection of her offer cut her to the core. What else could she do to influence his feelings? She was a woman, a respectable widow unable to make her errant feelings for him clear, hoping that through her constant company and their mutual growing respect he might discover and perhaps reciprocate those feelings. And now, here she was, chasing him down in a most humiliating manner, forcing him to bend to her will! It was mortifying indeed to be so under his spell. But he should not learn of it from her demeanour at least. Julia steeled herself to speak to him as disinterestedly as she could manage, and, looking up at her from his inferior position, he certainly understood nothing of the turmoil coursing through her mind at that moment, or since their previous meeting.

  "Mr. Wickham!" she began drily, "I might ask the same of you, sir. How fortunate that I am once again in a position to offer you my assistance. I presume you were merely out walking to clear your head before the meeting with my bank manager and me later this morning as we arranged last night? You have certainly walked quite a distance and so I imagine you had a great deal to ponder? You do look very tired - my horse did not wake you until we were quite alongside. Perhaps I may offer you a ride back to town in order to preserve your strength for our business discussion?"

  Wickham was at a loss at what to say. Clearly, she was not fooled in the slightest by the intention of his walk but merely wished to cloak his disgraceful behaviour in a more favourable colour. Inwardly admitting defeat, he smiled his most disarming smile, hoisted his bag into the back of the cart, and, climbing up beside her on the seat, took the proffered reins and urged the horse to turn about.

  Not one word was spoken for the duration of the return journey, but their silence, as they rode along towards the house, strangely, was more companionable than combative, and not entirely uncomfortable. Not a word of recrimination was spoken; not a question asked; not an explanation demanded. It was as though such discussion was unnecessary between them.

  The main street was now alive with activity; businesses were open and shoppers everywhere. All was clamour and motion. One lady, exclaiming upon the earliness of her outing, was greeted and informed by a smiling and calm Mrs. Younge that she and her new manager had been to inspect a possible investment in the next town before any other person should know of it.

  "But," she assured the lady, "Mr. Wickham has already advised against it as being too costly a venture, and I entirely agree with his judgment. It is so pleasant to have the benefit of his sensible advice. Good morning!" and they proceeded into the yard at the back of the house and dismounted from the cart.

  Wickham's silence continued until they were safely inside her parlour where he then began to pace in great agitation, working himself up into what he hoped was a fair representation of a man who
had tried to act honourably but had been thwarted in his noble attempt.

  "Mrs. Younge! I cannot, I really cannot agree to you involving yourself in my troubles. I returned to my rooms this morning and thought about it - about your kind offer - long and hard, and it is too much. You do not know me, and what little you do know certainly should prevent you from the course of action you have offered, and even acted upon today.

  "I planned to leave quietly this morning, so that you would not be thus tarnished by an association with me and now all is ruined. Now you have irrevocably involved yourself in my affairs by forcing me to return to the place I most wanted to escape, and by telling that woman - whom I am sure is the worst gossip in the town - that I am your advisor, your manager, for goodness' sake! It cannot be undone - everybody will be talking of it; they will be expecting it. You have done yourself a terrible disservice, Mrs. Younge. You should have let me leave and you would have been only be the worse off by my bar bill. Now you are involved to a far greater extent. It is impossible, indeed it is. It is too great a risk for your reputation." He flung himself down upon the nearest chair and waited for her explanation. Even as he uttered the words they highlighted to him, even more clearly, just how entwined in his affairs she become through her offer, an offer which she obviously had every intention of fulfilling.

  Julia watched him, and admired all the more the spirit with which he denounced her actions and words as so detrimental to her reputation; at least he had some concern for her well-being! All the anger and disappointment she had felt in the early hours of the morning dissipated and was replaced by a warmth of feeling the like of which she had never experienced before. For the second time in the same number of encounters, George Wickham had managed to thaw her usually cool reserve and make her aware of emotions quite different from those with which she was familiar. Her late husband had provoked feelings of respect and gratitude – but never something this instinctive and visceral. She did not know such unexpected emotion could exist within her - it never had before - and it was a combined shock and a delight to know herself capable of it. Drawing a steadying breath to calm her inner feelings and taking a chair closest to him, she sat down, leaning forward so that he should be in no doubt of the sincerity of her words.

  "I wish to help you, Mr. Wickham - George - even though I know the type of man you are. I am under no delusions, do not think that I am. I have watched you every night for many weeks as you have gambled, drunk, and flirted your way through the evenings. I know the extent of your attraction for other women - I do not tell you this to suggest anything improper should happen between us - I would be perfectly satisfied simply have you act as my manager and advisor in some of my business affairs, as I told the lady in town. Under such an arrangement there can be no awkwardness in my advancing your wages to the sum necessary to satisfy your creditors.

  "My only weakness, which, I confess, has arisen in me so very recently and so very strangely, is to desire your company. I have long been alone and felt the lack of a man’s company and friendship. That is what I wish for, George. It is, perhaps a foolish feminine wish, but it is mine."

  Wickham had raised his head as she spoke. Never had he heard such truths, wants and desires as warmly and honestly spoken in so charming a manner, and he grasped her hand as she ended her speech. He looked into her eyes for a moment searching for a hint of mockery, or even hatred to be hiding there behind the words, but saw nothing other than truth and genuine feeling in her looks. Wickham raised her hand to his lips and kissed it.

  "My dear madam - Julia - I do not know what it is that has commended me to you - you know and have listed my faults honestly and without rancour - yet still you wish to assist me and desire my company! My dear lady, I am utterly at your service, now and for as long as you wish it. I could not desire for a more respectable and desirable employer and I shall be your devoted servant, upon that you may depend. We shall go together to your banker this morning, as you propose, and conclude this arrangement with my creditors, and I shall endeavour to mend my other transgressions here in town. And then you shall decide my duties, if you please, which I will do my utmost to carry out to the best of my ability in gratitude for your kindness towards me."

  And so it was that George Wickham became a manager for Mrs. Younge. His debts were paid off in full: his creditors disappeared into the background. He no longer allowed himself the pleasure of the gaming tables, either in Julia’s establishment nor in any other, as his official duties forbade it. Every day he was now observed assisting Mrs. Younge about her business, and during the evening hours he was no less diligent in his attentions towards her happiness and comfort. He was a reformed character and everybody remarked upon it.

  Not a whisper was spoken about their arrangement, even though his trunk had been delivered to one of the rooms in the upstairs of her house which he quite openly rented at a reasonable rate per month, as did several other single men, from their landlady. Mrs. Younge declared to everybody who wanted to know about her new manager that she felt secure once again now she had a strong and sensible young man to protect her safety and her business interests, and such was her reputation in the town, she was entirely believed. Mrs. Younge was a respectable and worthy young woman, a widow of a well-respected businessman, who had struggled on her own to maintain his businesses and her place in society. The fact she now needed a male assistant was entirely rational. They wished her well with her endeavours and let her alone as they had always done.

  George, ever bewildered, found himself the object of such adoration and affection and esteem such as he had never encountered before in his young life. He felt the warmth of Julia's fondness encourage his better behaviour. No longer was he drawn to flirt with other women; no longer was his sole interest in the tables and how much was being won and lost. Greater satisfaction was found in completing Julia's every direction about her business and the feeling of great pride in her obvious delight in his company and achievements.

  Together they worked and loved in great happiness for many months until his pressing desire to repay her loan to him by approaching Darcy, as she had once recommended him to do on a night that was forever burned into their memories, became more urgent; he could not bear to be in Julia’s debt any longer. They began to consider how their future could unfold if, once again, Wickham could manage to become a gentleman of independent means.

  Chapter 4

  "Remember, my darling man, be firm with him, even though he will surely attempt to oppose your idea. Console yourself with the knowledge that he really would prefer to have you as far away from Pemberley as possible, and certainly nowhere near any of his parishes. Now, go, before the day gets any longer; you have an arduous journey ahead of you. Take good care of yourself, my darling!"

  Never had Julia felt so bereft as she did at the moment of her beloved George leaving her to plead his case to Darcy; a case in which she had thoroughly schooled him in the several days prior to his departure. She had employed every one of her persuasive arts to convince him of the sensible nature of her plan for everyone involved: George would become solvent for the first time in several years; she would have a lover who was financially independent of her; and Mr. Darcy would be relieved from having to carry out his father's wishes regardless of the obvious unsuitability of the beneficiary. She felt she had managed to convince George enough to enable him to argue his case fluently.

  "Thank you, my dear! I am sure that all will turn out as you have planned and anticipate. I shall be quite firm and state my case clearly and concisely; Darcy will see the sense of it quite quickly I should think. You may look for my speedy return when we can begin to make plans for our life together. Until I see you again, dearest. Farewell!"

  Wickham kissed Julia fondly, mounted his horse and, settling into his saddle, cantered off down the road waving his hat with great confidence until he was certain he could be observed no longer. He then steadied the horse's pace so as to conserve its energy for the long journey ahead; it w
as still rather skittish and excited at the prospect of the open road, almost as much as its rider. Enjoyable as many of the elements that had filled the previous several months had been for Wickham, since his first surprising encounter with Julia, the knowledge that he would be his own master for the next several days filled him with a sense of release and freedom he had not expected to feel. And if he should be successful in his quest - what happiness would then ensue for both him and Julia!

  Julia had certainly rescued him from definite ruination that night, this he could not deny, and the conditions she had insisted upon for that rescue could not really be balked at; indeed, most of them were of such an intimate nature he almost blushed to think of how it would be construed by any other person should they ever know of their arrangement.

  But no one could know: Julia had insisted.

  They must not advertise their relationship; she would not compromise her reputation for anyone's sake, not even for him. Why she felt such affection for him, Wickham still had no notion, but apparently it was the case and he did not feel impelled to enquire too deeply for fear it might dissolve as rapidly as it had appeared.

  Suffice it to say, he had excited deep feelings in Julia and they were enough for her to clear his debts and give him supervisory power over several of her businesses, greatly improving his standing in the town. She had not gone so far as to allow him entirely into her business affairs - she kept the books and other financial matters to herself - but he felt trusted enough at the moment to feel very fortunately situated.