Wickham's Wife

by C. J. Hill

  Mrs. Bennet reluctantly agreed that this might be the case and then fell, utterly distracted, to quarrelling with Kitty about another matter entirely.

  The Christmas season had almost arrived and everybody was preparing in their own manner for the celebration of it. Wickham felt even more keenly his separation from Julia, and the cause of it, but could see no road back to their former felicity. He had managed, once again, to disappoint her, to anger her, and had been cast out to fend for himself. He restricted himself from making any attempt in person to make amends, which he sorely wished to do, but which she had expressly forbidden, and resorted, instead, to composing a letter, begging her forgiveness in the spirit of the season, and hoping that, in time, she would be able to understand and forgive his angry words and actions: he assured her of his continued affection and forgiveness regarding her own words which he understood to have been spoken only for his improvement and benefit. It was not an easy missive to write and it took several attempts before he felt his message was clear and the tone conciliatory enough; however, he refrained from sending it immediately, still uncertain as to its reception and effectiveness.

  Since their quarrel, Wickham had finally come to the reluctant realisation that his future would never amount to anything if it relied solely upon his ability - or noticeable lack thereof - to create his own security. After Julia’s harsh words, his inability to improve his situation and his repetitive history of debt was finally becoming clear to him: the mounting debt he owed about Meryton in the few short weeks he had been in residence there would, he realised, begin haunt his current situation unless cleared. He had finally accepted that his future security could only be assured in a certain manner; one that did not rely upon his ability to provide for it: it had to include a fortunate marriage.

  This self-realisation was prescient as, shortly after his return, Colonel Forster called him into his office and, after politely enquiring about the success of his visit to London proceeded thus:

  "I am at a loss to know quite how to broach this subject, but broached it must be. It has come to my attention that several merchants of this town are carrying astonishingly large credit on your behalf, Wickham - is this in any way true, sir? You have been with us for so short a time, I had trouble believing the truth of the matter when it was spoken of."

  Wickham, shocked, forced a puzzled smile. "I cannot think who could possibly make such accusations, Colonel. While it is true that I have enjoyed several evenings at some of the establishments in the area since joining the Regiment, I do not believe that the level of credit afforded to me has been any greater than that offered to my fellow officers. But, of course, any outstanding debts shall be repaid immediately; I would never take advantage of a business's goodwill, I assure you. But I would like to know how you have come about this information, sir?"

  "It has not been a formal complaint, Wickham, only some idle talk amongst the men - you know how they like to embellish their stories in order to make me concerned about their behaviour! But your name came up several times referring to the fact that when credit was available, you never refused it, indeed, you expected it and seemed to enjoy the freedom of extending it as far as possible.”

  Colonel Forster stared intently at Wickham to gauge his reaction as he continued:

  “Gentlemen of the Regiment cannot behave in that sort of a manner, Wickham, and certainly not in a place where we have a duty to uphold the highest standards and expectations; all goods and services must be paid for upon receipt when you are under my command, no matter what your expectations might have been in the past: any debts of honour – of which I sincerely hope there are none - must be paid with the utmost urgency, sir, as, I am certain, you are well aware."

  Colonel Forster stood to dismiss Wickham, and the set of his demeanour clearly transmitted his message: more than he had spoken of had come to his attention and he hoped that this first warning would be the only one required to this particular man.

  Wickham left the office in a stricken state, mentally figuring his expenses owed in Meryton. As the Colonel had stated, he had been in residence only a few short weeks but to his horror, he began to realise how all of the card games and drinking with his new friends had mounted up, and none of it yet paid for. As he marched quickly down the main street of the village he passed several establishments, joyfully decorated for the season and doing a brisk trade, where he had opened credit: the grocer’s; the wine merchant; the boot-maker - all of whom had been perfectly willing to enter into such an arrangement with an officer of the Regiment. His claims to Julia had only been half-correct: the willingness was there on both sides to enter into an arrangement; the expectation of immediate re-payment, he had ignored. Truth to tell, until his luck at the tables allowed it, he had not considered making re-payments at all. This was unfortunate indeed and made his situation even more pressing.

  A decision about his future had to be made forthwith, and he re-wrote his letter to Julia with additional information contained therein.

  My Dearest Julia,

  It is with the deepest regret that I recall our parting words to each other and I wish that there were some way to erase that memory for both of us. I said things I certainly regret as, I am sure, do you, although I perfectly understand that yours were spoken in an attempt at my education and not out of any sort of meanness of mind, of which, I know, you are incapable. At this time of the year, being so far apart from you and with such enmity between us, I would dearly like to receive some word of reconciliation from you to give me hope that all friendship is not lost between us.

  That I have failed and disappointed you many times, I am in no doubt, and, once again, I beg forgiveness for my actions and weaknesses. To have blamed you for them, or for protecting yourself from them, was unconscionable, and I apologise tenfold. You have always seen what I am, and have always loved me regardless of that knowledge but it would seem that I cannot change what I am, however much I would have it so, and am condemned to be a constant failure in your eyes.

  Perhaps it is no more than your ability to know me better than I know myself but I acknowledge your perceptive accusations: I have again built up more debt than I can repay – you guessed the truth, where I refused to see it. It is not an imminently pressing issue but will soon become so and I believe I shall soon have no other recourse than to execute your suggestion from our last meeting, a suggestion, I know, borne out of anger and disappointment, but, nonetheless, a sensible one for a man in my predicament. It seems that my only alternative is to encourage a wealthy young lady to marry me.

  This will give you pain, as it does me, but you of all people understand my failings and weakness and the impossibility of any other solution. I risk losing my position in the Regiment if I should be unable to repay my debts. I will try, my dearest Julia, to right the wrong I have committed against you but I feel in my heart of hearts, that the stated solution, of necessity, cannot be long in being implemented if I am to continue on my chosen career. Do not despise me, my dearest, although I know that you do not. You know I am not as strong as are you, nor do I have the determination and restraint necessary; I cannot save myself from the mire of debt and temptation I have created through my own endeavours, as could you.

  Give me your blessing, Julia, as I cannot see any other remedy for my current distress, and I could not survive in the world knowing that you only think ill of me. I shall not invade your privacy until you request it – if you ever do again - but you will always remain my greatest love, regardless of any future actions I take that may appear otherwise. I beg you to believe this if you believe nothing else.

  Your devoted, but utterly desperate,

  G.

  Chapter 19

  With the posting of the letter and its accompanying sorrows, Wickham felt a new resolve strengthening his determination to recover from his situation. He had stated his intent, and by doing so caused great pain to the woman he loved, and must now fulfil his task without delay, otherwise all the heartache a
nd pain would have been for naught.

  Of all the ladies in Meryton there were several whom he thought he could willingly marry, and, he believed, would be willing to marry him: Elizabeth Bennet was one who had claimed his attention from the first moment of their meeting, and who would, he hoped, as his favourite amongst all others, relieve his pressing debts after entering that desired state.

  He would not be marrying for love - security was his sole purpose – and, therefore, he determined to make himself agreeable to any and every eligible lady until one could be convinced to be in love with him. It was not necessary for him to be in love with her, but attraction and affection could be encouraged and nurtured; a convincing act would have to be performed but it was one at which he had extensive experience and felt no great concern about performing.

  Fortunately, both for his purse and his plans, he had made a great impression upon not only Miss Elizabeth Bennet and Miss Lydia, he knew, but also their Mamma who insisted upon his inclusion in every entertainment offered at Longbourn over the following weeks. Wickham found he was of material service in dispelling the gloom occasioned by the departure of Mr. Bingley and his friends – an absence which only gave him the greatest of pleasure - which had descended about the aforementioned house; apparently great expectations had been anticipated of Mr. Bingley which had not come to fruition, throwing the whole house, and Mrs. Bennet especially, into utter despair. The other matter continuing to cause distress to the lady of the house concerned their cousin, Mr. Collins, and his astonishing betrothal to Miss Charlotte Lucas. Although Elizabeth had been at great pains to assure Wickham of her delight at her friend’s good fortune, which equalled her delight at her own fortuitous escape from that role, Mrs. Bennet persisted in her resentment towards all parties involved, and aired it loudly whenever she had the opportunity.

  The happy absence of Bingley and Darcy merely offered Wickham the opportunity to remove his final reserve in discussing his ill-treatment at the latter gentleman's hands with all and sundry, garnering universal approbation and agreement of how much his listeners remembered they had always disliked Mr. Darcy.

  Wickham, in contrast, was universally pleasing: he drank little; gambled nothing; and paid only the deepest courtesy to any other ladies present when forced from Lizzy's side by some barbarous guest thinking to engage him in conversation. Elizabeth was particularly concerned that everybody should understand the trials he had endured due to Mr. Darcy, who, she claimed loudly on many occasions, was a most proud fellow and caused pain wherever he went through his prejudice and resentful temper; he had apparently informed her with great pride that his good opinion, once lost, was lost forever.

  Wickham laughed when he heard of it. "Yes, indeed, Miss Bennet, that is a true statement and I have had to bear the proof of it myself more than once. I fear he lost his good opinion of me long ago and I know it is fruitless to try to regain it. I am certainly forever lost to him."

  "But that is disgraceful!" she exclaimed. "What right has he to judge another person and never forgive them? Has he never made a mistake of judgment or action? Indeed, when Miss Bingley claimed he was a man without fault he absolutely refuted such a claim. He cannot be a truly Christian person. He cannot have been brought up by a loving parent eager to have him understand the common failings of men. It is insupportable to be so condemnatory towards another who has long been known and close to him."

  "You do not think he must have reason for his prejudices, Miss Bennet? You believe so entirely in his badness and my goodness?"

  Lizzy flushed and looked away. "I suppose I do not have the right to condemn him for his actions when I do not know the whole of the matter, but you assure me he has wronged you and I feel your claim must be true; he has never gainsaid anything in his defence."

  "Perhaps you have not asked the right questions, Miss Elizabeth. I would not have you hate another person on my behalf. He has not wronged you so much as to earn your hate surely? His manner is proud, to be sure, but it is not generally meant in an unpleasant manner. He has many friends who would not agree with your assessment of their friend - towards them he is charming and generous and thoughtful; it is only those whom he has cast off from his friendship he treats with disgust. Unfortunately, I am one of that group and must endure it as best I can."

  Wickham's defence of his former friend merely served to further increase his listener's approbation, as he knew it would, and she invited him to meet her aunt and uncle newly arrived from London and who were to stay for the week. Mrs. Gardiner, who was several years younger than Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Philips, was an amiable, intelligent, elegant woman, and a great favourite with all her Longbourn nieces, and she discovered, upon making Mr. Wickham's acquaintance, that he had one means of affording her pleasure: she had spent a considerable time, ten years before, in that very part of Derbyshire, to which he had belonged and it was within his power to give her fresher intelligence of her former friends than she had been in the way of procuring. Wickham's minute descriptions of Pemberley and his praise of its late possessor compared favourably with her own recollections of the same and so, upon being made aware of the present Mr. Darcy's treatment of him, she tried to remember something of that gentleman's reputed disposition when quite a lad, and was confident at last, that she recollected having heard Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy formerly spoken of as a very proud, ill-natured boy.

  Shrewdly, she had also guessed at Wickham's probable circumstances, being the son of an estate manager and his own admitted estrangement from the family which used to protect him, and sought to caution her niece as soon as possible about not allowing her fancy to run away with her.

  "My dear, I would have you be on your guard. I have nothing to say against him; I do not know him well, after all, and he is a most interesting and charming young man; if he had the fortune he ought to have, I should think you could not do better. But his circumstances are such that I fear his outward merits may cover many unseen flaws. Your father depends on your resolution and good conduct; you must not disappoint him."

  "Well, aunt," laughed Lizzy, "you are too late, as my father already shows a partiality for Mr. Wickham, almost as much as my mother! But at present I am not in love with him even though he is, beyond all comparison, the most agreeable man I ever saw."

  "Perhaps it would be as well if you discourage his coming here so very often."

  "Oh, do not imagine that he has always been here so often; it is merely on your account that he has been so frequently invited - you know how my mother believes in the necessity of constant company for her friends. But I will try to follow your advice and do what I think wisest; I hope you will be satisfied with that."

  Mrs. Gardiner was not the only person questioning the good sense of an attachment between Lizzy and Wickham. That gentleman, also, had made it his business to enquire of others and make his own observations of the Bennet family situation while he was able so to do, and the results of those enquiries had confirmed his friend's earlier musings: that there was not a great fortune to be had from that quarter - even the estate was entailed away and would become the happy inheritance of Mr. Collins and his new wife. The women of the family appeared to be in a most unfortunate but common state of affairs should anything happen to their father. Delightfully intelligent, handsome, and sympathetic as Miss Bennet was, those attributes would not solve Wickham's pressing needs and those he anticipated would always shape his future, and he determined to distance himself from his increasing attachment with the Longbourn family at about the same time as Lizzy was receiving similar advice from her aunt Gardiner.

  At the beginning of the New Year several events happened in Meryton within days of each other: the nuptials between Mr. Collins and Miss Lucas were performed without any great fanfare, and, certainly, held no interest for any in the Regiment although it was well-attended by the local populace; a young lady named Miss King, a small, insignificant person whom Wickham thought he remembered attending some of the pre-Christmas festivities, returned to
town dressed entirely in black and was rumoured to be refusing all invitations, which served only to slightly increase her limited intrigue; and, of the most importance to everybody in the Regiment and some in the town, Colonel Forster was married to a young lady from Meryton named Harriet, a recent but very close friend of Lydia and Kitty Bennet.

  There had been great speculation amongst his men and the people of the village about the prospects of the Colonel's marriage but, in general, most were delighted to see him finally settling down as a man of his age should do. His protestations that, thus far, a military life had precluded such felicity fell upon doubting ears and he was, therefore, encouraged to make his intentions known at the earliest moment as a demonstration of gentlemanly conduct and a model for his men. Some, but not all, of his men were beginning to be looked at askance due to their activities and behaviour, and many in the town hoped that such an example from their leader would prove influential.

  The talk amongst the officers was all about the Colonel's engagement and marriage and many wondered what effect such a change in his lifestyle would have upon his abilities as their leader. None of them, young as they still were and enjoying the freedom that youth brings, could understand the imperative he felt. But, they all agreed, he was a good deal older than they, and so must desire the comforts of a home and wife more than those who had not yet learned to want more than entertaining company, an exciting game of cards, and flirting outrageously with beautiful young ladies.

  Wickham listened to the discussions on the subject, preferring to say as little as possible about it; he still awaited Julia's reply and each day that passed without word from her caused him pain. He felt quite differently about the matter of marriage and relationships than did his less-experienced friends. If he had not ruined his chances so many times with Julia; if he had managed his life and temptations better, he might be as happily 'trapped' as his colonel was to become, and he personally wished Colonel Forster every happiness in his new situation.