by C. J. Hill
“There surely can be nothing he can do unless he intends to steal it from me, a swindled widow, which I sincerely hope a gentleman would never consider. Give the gentleman's details to me now, George, and I will contact my attorney first thing in the morning; he will have instructions to recover the papers by whatever means necessary. I would also suggest that you meet with this person immediately to confess your wrongdoing and throw yourself upon his mercy before he is approached by my attorney. I am sure he will be able to agree to some arrangement to the benefit of both of you, if he is a reasonable man; however, that is not my concern.
"Here is a pen. Write down his details, and I will bid you goodbye. I am severely wounded by your actions, George. I thought you a better man than this, especially in reference to our relationship. Do not trouble me with your company until such time as I request it – if I ever do again."
She turned away from him as he gathered his coat and hat, and forcing back her tears, heard his silent exit from the room. Once the front door had slammed, she collapsed into the nearest chair and sobbed as though her heart would break.
Chapter 6
Mr. Brown of Cambridge, attorney at law, who had served Julia’s late husband faithfully for many years as well as being one of his most firm friends, took it upon himself, after travelling in great haste to London upon receiving his instructions in the matter, to do everything in his power to avenge in her time of need this good lady who had been such a comfort to his old friend.
Mr. Brown immediately paid a visit to the gentleman and informed him of the dishonourable crime that had been perpetrated against him and Mr. Brown's client; Mr. Brown very quickly proved beyond any doubt that Mr. Wickham had no claim upon the property in question and, therefore, the use of it as security had been fraudulent in the extreme. Mr. Brown proceeded to request that the deeds to the said property be returned to him forthwith and counselled the gentleman to take up the outstanding debt with Mr. Wickham directly, as the initiator of the crime.
"I must say, Mrs. Younge, the gentleman was rather astonished at the turn of events after I had related the extent of Mr. Wickham's deception. He was under the impression, furnished by Mr. Wickham, that you and he were distant cousins and that Mr. Wickham was your guardian and sole heir! Naturally, once I had dissuaded him of those facts, he seemed most incredulous at the extent to which he had been completely taken in. But he did not disagree with my demands, indicating that he would settle the debt with Mr. Wickham immediately.
"But now that you have your papers safely back in your hands, what do you intend doing about Mr. Wickham's egregious behaviour towards your good self, Mrs. Younge? He has committed several crimes against you and they should not be ignored: they should be punished severely. To take the good name of a respectable widow and bandy it about for his own profit is outrageous indeed; but to steal, yes, steal, Mrs. Younge, there is no other word for it even if he insists that it was merely intended as a loan, is reprehensible. That he took your house deeds without your knowledge and used them as collateral, not once but twice is unforgivable! He must be punished in the law, not only by the gentleman whom he deceived but also by yourself, Mrs. Younge, for the equally serious deception he has inflicted upon you and the shocking events that might have eventuated had not the gentleman been so understanding. Mr. Younge, I am certain, would have wasted no sympathy upon such a worthless young man as Mr. Wickham has proved himself to be, and you should not either. He is a charlatan, Mrs. Younge, and I urge you, most strongly, to cast him off from your friendship forever and punish him to the limits of the law." Mr. Brown felt he would be remiss in the extreme if he did not offer her his most thorough advice.
Julia, however, could barely muster interest nor energy enough to listen to this diatribe against her former lover; the fact that her documents were returned without undue trouble was satisfaction enough for her. She had no desire to force Wickham into a more desperate state than he was already experiencing. She smiled weakly at the agitated attorney but rather wished him long gone from her presence.
"I am extremely grateful for the prompt and efficient execution of your duties, Mr. Brown. You have always been a great friend to my husband and me when we have been faced with difficulties of a legal nature, and I knew you to be the person upon whom I could rely in this matter. I am relieved to know that the offended party did not insist upon prolonging the confusion and relinquished the papers without a fight; he must be a reasonable type of man - I hope so, for Mr. Wickham's sake - for it is he who is now at that gentleman's mercy. But, as for bringing the full weight of the law down upon Mr. Wickham's head, that I cannot do. He has been a friend to me for much longer than he has been a foe and I cannot wish him ill on my account. I have been rescued from his thoughtless actions by your good offices and I thank you most sincerely. The gentleman whom he has deceived will insist upon suitable retribution and that will be punishment enough for one person to endure, I have no doubt.
"Did the gentleman indicate what course of action he intended taking against Mr. Wickham?"
"No, he did not, Mrs. Younge, but he was certainly not inclined to be as lenient with him as you intend to be; he will have something planned to balance the scales of justice, mark my words! You are certainly a most forgiving and gentle lady, and Mr. Wickham should be eternally grateful that you are not of a vindictive nature; he should be cast in jail for what he has attempted, you know."
Julia smiled sadly as she rose to bid Mr. Brown farewell and to thank him again for his offices.
"Perhaps Mr. Wickham will end up in jail one day, but it shall not be because of me - I could not bear the guilt of it. No matter what he has done, he will always remain as one of my most amiable acquaintances who has brought me nothing but joy until this present sadness. I wish you good day, Mr. Brown, and a safe journey home to Cambridge. I thank you once more for your assistance."
Julia returned slowly to her chair and spent an hour or so merely watching the fire burn in the grate; she could not summon energy enough to decide what to do next, and for several days following she allowed herself the selfish luxury of wallowing in her deep sadness.
Wickham, after he had left her house three days before, could not imagine what to expect of his future, but his main, almost uncontrollable instinct was to flee London immediately, as far and as quickly as was humanly possible, just as he had planned so many years before when things had gone wrong in Cambridge. This time, sadly, he did not have the support of a woman who loved him, as he had then. He had betrayed that love so disgracefully, that even he, upon reflection, could not believe his actions. What had he been thinking, to take her papers and use them for his own benefit? Of course they would not have satisfied his debts - how could they? They were not even in his own name and he had always half expected the two men who had accepted them as security to realise that and refuse his bet. But neither had noticed; the bets had gone ahead - one well: one disastrously - and now revenge could be hers should she wish it. He had treated her abominably, this he knew, but he could work out nothing to remedy his immediate situation: he had no money; he had debts which he could not honour; he would soon be without lodgings; and he was without the support he had come to rely upon: Julia. She would never forgive him, and, indeed, he berated himself, why should she?
Adding to his fear of the future was his second, and more worrying, concern: what the deceived creditor would exact as payment for his outstanding debt and also his attempted fraud. He knew the man in general to be a wealthy landowner and man of business who enjoyed the card tables as much as Wickham; they had got along famously on the few occasions they had met and Wickham rather thought that Mr. Jardine might be prevailed upon to consider some sort of mutually beneficial agreement rather than bringing the law into the matter. If he could just explain his situation, surely the gentleman would understand and be moved to some feeling of generosity towards a fellow gambler, understanding as he must, the lure and intoxication of the game? Surely?
Wishing
, rather than believing this to be true, Wickham decided to venture out one evening, certain in the knowledge that enough time had passed for his sins to have been thoroughly aired amongst those of his former acquaintance, and he considered that it would be better to understand what was being thought and said of him rather than rely upon the cruel imaginings playing in his head. He dressed with great care and re-entered the outside world which he had studiously avoided for the past several days.
He called first into the local coffee house and immediately began to comprehend, through the quickly-averted stares and outright cuts, the level to which his reputation had plummeted. Several fellows that he had thought of as friends, gentlemen who had also lost heavily at the tables with him and who should have sympathy for his predicament, looked straight through him when he approached their table: when he ordered a coffee, it did not appear, although he waited for more than twenty excruciating minutes.
Wickham eventually stood, bowed to the general company, who all studiously avoided noticing him, and made his way nonchalantly to the exit. Clearly, he was persona non grata in this establishment, but judging by the buzz that rose up as the door closed behind him, still a very worthy topic of serious gossip.
Bruised but not yet broken, he traversed the length of the thoroughfare and entered another establishment, a club which he had frequented on occasion but where he was not so very well known; if he was cut here, he could be assured that his reputation was irredeemable. His spirits sank as, one after another, slight acquaintances either ignored him completely or looked him full in the face, and then cut him just as he, relieved at their attention, was about to greet them.
He did not linger long: the message was clear. His behaviour was deemed to be beyond the pale by all who were in possession of the facts, and, he was certain, by many who were not so well informed but were enjoying his misfortune. Disconsolate on the inside, he attempted again an air of nonchalance as he paused and pretended to inspect the offerings of a local haberdasher while deciding where next to proceed.
Reluctantly, it occurred to him that the only possible option now was to call upon the offended party and throw himself upon that gentleman's mercy; apologise and offer to make any amends of which he was capable. The alternative of waiting for the knock on the door and the unmitigated shame of a public calling out could not be endured. Wickham straightened his shoulders and hat, and with a spring in his step for the benefit of any detractors looking on at him from behind windows, he proceeded to the square where the gentleman lived; a very genteel square; the kind of address Wickham longed to inhabit: now, an impossibility.
He rang the doorbell and was immediately admitted to the front parlour; the butler would enquire if the master would see him. Wickham did not hold out great hopes of that outcome but wished Jardine to know that he had made the gentlemanly effort to call and explain, and was, therefore, suitably humbled when the butler returned and informed him that the master would see him in the library. Handing his coat and hat to the maid, Wickham hurried along behind the butler and entered the imposing library before he had time to consider exactly what he would say when faced with his creditor.
Fortunately, he had more than ten minutes to reflect upon his excuses, utterly unable to appreciate the elegant good taste that surrounded him, while the gentleman completely ignored Wickham's presence, engaged as he was in reading and signing the mountain of papers before him on his desk.
Eventually, the pile on the one hand had disappeared and the pile on the other had taken its place; the gentleman blotted his last signature, replaced his pen, and finally raised his eyes to Wickham sitting uncomfortably across the desk from him. He viewed Wickham rather like an unpleasant object he had suddenly been forced to acknowledge.
"So!" Jardine growled angrily, "you have finally crawled out from whichever stone you have been hiding under, have you, Wickham? Come to acknowledge your deceit, have you? What do you have to say for yourself, eh?"
Wickham cringed and hastened to make his excuse. "Firstly, Jardine, if I may, I thank you for seeing me at all; you have every reason never to speak with me again; you are more forbearing than those I encountered in my old haunts before I came here.
"I have no excuse, Jardine, other than that of foolish desperation. I was out of funds, do you see, and firmly believed that my hand was a good one that night; that, given a final chance, I would be able to turn my string of bad luck around. I was wrong: wrong to think that, and wrong to use false security for my bet. You cannot know how it has tortured me these past days, to think of the ungentlemanly manner in which I behaved. I apologise most sincerely and ask you to name any suitable punishment that you please."
Jardine laughed scathingly. "Punishment? Torture is more what is required to teach you a lesson; do not you know that a debt of honour must be paid without fail, without excuse, to the exclusion of all other debts? Do not you understand the rules of a gentleman, Wickham? But of course you cannot; what foolish question is that? To understand the rules of a gentleman, one has to be a gentleman, not pretend to be one. I thought you to be a man of property; a man connected to the Pemberley Estate; a man who would inherit his widowed cousin's property. In short, a man equal to my standing, if a little less. But, in those perceptions I have been deluded, as, I am quite certain, have many others. I have been surprised and cruelly deceived by you, Wickham."
He leaned forward, pinning Wickham with his stare, causing great anguish in that gentleman.
"I have been making enquiries about your family, sir; questions that, had I known what kind of a man you were, would have been asked when I first made your acquaintance. Perhaps they were asked and you chose to answer falsely; I generally make a point of enquiring about a fellow’s family. You made great use of the Darcy name in the clubs, I recall, but I have discovered through mutual acquaintances that you are no longer acknowledged by that gentleman. Your connection appears only to be that of the estate manager's son - not a connection that would normally allow access to the society to which you aspire. What have you to say to that, sir?" Jardine allowed the full flood of his anger to rain down upon the hapless Wickham as he thundered his accusations.
Wickham attempted to redeem himself in the manner to which he had become accustomed: that of evading the truth of the matter, where at all possible, in the hope that his interrogator had not had the full explanation of it from Darcy.
"I admit that I no longer have the affection that I once enjoyed in the Darcy family, sir," he stammered. "At one time I was held in very high regard as companion to the son and heir, as was my father in his capacity as manager by the late Mr. Darcy. I do not know what changed between us to make Mr. Darcy think so ill of me but I believe it must stem from my determination, three years ago, not to accept the living offered to me by the late Mr. Darcy in favour of trying to make my own way in the world in another career. Mr. Darcy appeared angry at my decision, but I would not be forced into a profession to which I was not suited. You cannot fault me for that, surely sir?"
Jardine leaned back and considered this new information with scepticism.
"Indeed? I was not made aware of those facts by my contact, although that reason does not seem convincing enough to cast off an old and valued friend. But why did not you accept the position? Regardless of your belief of it being ill-suited to your temperament, the living would have kept you comfortably for the rest of your life, and with no great exertion demanded on your part, either."
"I am not suited for the quiet country life, sir, and the life of a village parson would certainly not suit my character. As you have observed, I prefer the town and the night life and the excitement it offers, as do you. I could not live a life of deceit pretending to be someone that I am not. I cannot think you would be happy always to be in the country, Mr. Jardine?" Wickham asked, hopeful he may have hit a sympathetic chord.
"We are not concerned with what I would like, Wickham," Jardine bellowed. "You are the one who has behaved abominably and, as for not wanti
ng to live a life of deceit, you have managed that quite successfully here in town, have not you? To deceive simple country folk would put no great strain on your talents.
"I have not reneged upon a debt; I have not offered false security stolen from a woman who, it turns out, is not your cousin, however distant. I was informed of your egregious behaviour towards this woman - worse than your disgraceful behaviour towards me - when confronted by a most disagreeable attorney the other day, and forced to relinquish the papers without question upon hearing of how they were obtained. I cannot hold a female accountable for allowing herself to have been taken advantage of by an unscrupulous man. Enlighten me on that score, sir!"
Wickham bowed his head; here at last was his true disgrace. To have, as Jardine put it, taken advantage of a woman's generosity, love, and trust was unforgivable. It broke every code known to a gentleman: no matter how desperate circumstances became, a gentleman did not rely upon the trust or naiveté of a woman to improve those circumstances. There was nothing he could pretend about this; Jardine probably had all of the information from the attorney, and more, than he had alluded to. He sighed and looked up. Grimacing with regret he spoke slowly and finally without pretence.
"I admit, I have behaved towards that woman disgracefully, as you know, and for no other reason than she had the means of relieving my desperate situation; she has helped me in the past and has always been my most selfless ally. She is a sensible woman, sir, other than for loving me and indulging my behaviour too many times, and she is a successful business woman in her own right. She entrusted me in the past with some administration of her business and I was happy to assist her in repayment for her unfailing devotion and aide to me. I, therefore, knew where she kept her important papers and was able to make them my own without arousing suspicion. My intention was only to use the papers for one security, which was quickly settled to everyone's satisfaction, and to return the papers without her being any the wiser."