Wickham's Wife

by C. J. Hill

  The talk turned, as it inevitably did, to the subject closest to all those present's heart: the young ladies of the town and which of them would be invited to the wedding and breakfast. Already quite inebriated, Denny began proclaiming loudly.

  "Miss Lydia has assured me that she will be in attendance. Of course she will as the bride's closest friend, but I am sure she does not come merely to admire her friend's wedding gown!" He cast a sardonic look in Wickham's direction. "Some of us had better take care if they are not to be caught unawares!"

  Wickham coloured slightly and tried to deny his friend's insinuation. "Nonsense, man! I have not paid any more attention to that young lady than any other gentleman, other than as a sister to Miss Elizabeth, which lady, I admit, has many more attractive features to recommend her than her youngest sister."

  "Hah! Do not believe it for a moment, gentlemen! Even though he has cast off her older sister as being too poor, Miss Lydia still holds out great hope for herself and Wickham! She hints at it whenever we are together; it is most insulting to hear of another wished for above oneself. But, you are right, Wickham, she has no greater attraction than her other sisters and I am glad you listened to my advice; we cannot all marry where we choose: some of us will marry where we must."

  "Denny! Quiet yourself! It is discourteous to speak of a lady in such a manner and so loudly in public. You will have Mr. Bennet calling you out for insulting his daughter."

  Denny laughed carelessly. "Mr. Bennet? You think Mr. Bennet would bestir himself as much as that? I believe he would be pleased to hand her off to another man, she is so noisy and ill-bred. No, he would sit quietly in his book-room, ignoring the matter until it all goes away. Do not misunderstand me, Wickham, I enjoy Lydia's company when I can get it but, you must agree, it is astonishing that she is a sister to Miss Jane and Elizabeth.

  "I will tell you something of interest, my friend," he continued more quietly, "there is another young lady recently come into town who might be just what you are looking for: Miss Mary King. You know of her, you have met her fleetingly, I believe, at the Philips' - a small, freckled person, very subdued and withdrawn."

  Wickham, assisting Denny on with his greatcoat in preparation for removing him from the inn where he was beginning to attract unwanted attention, laughed at his friend's suggestion.

  "Subdued and withdrawn? Indeed? When have I ever declared a preference for those qualities, may I ask? What nonsense are you talking now, Denny? Come, lean on me and I will walk you home."

  "No! Mark my words," whispered Denny as they staggered down the road, "what do you care if she is dull? Her personality is of no consequence: the most remarkable charm of Miss King is her sudden acquisition upon the recent death of her grandfather of ten thousand pounds! I believe there are many amongst us who would be willing to endure an uninteresting partner who came with that security. Eh, Wickham? There will be a long line of eager young men as soon as the information is public knowledge, you see if there is not. But now, thanks to me, you have advance notice, my friend. Go and pay your respects and condolences immediately; fool her with your charming manner. She is in a vulnerable state and supervised only by her mother; she will be putty in your hands, man. We shall be dancing at your wedding before long, will we not now?"

  Wickham saw Denny safely to his door and returned to his own lodgings in a thoughtful mood. Denny was not wrong and it was as if he saw into Wickham's private life and knew what he had planned to do even without ever speaking or giving the merest hint of it aloud. Throughout his dealings with Denny and his other friends, Wickham had never once allowed himself to unburden his troubles, monetary or otherwise, on any of them. As far as they were concerned, he was a Gentleman Volunteer with an adequate private income from the Pemberley Estate due to his previous connections with that family. But, somehow, Denny had perceived an underlying desperation that, until now, Wickham believed he had successfully hidden from view. This realisation rather discomposed him and he went to bed in a great state of unease.

  Happily, upon the day of Colonel Forster's wedding, Denny had sufficiently recovered from his excess of high spirits to allow him, along with his other officers, to attend the ceremony and present the regimental salute upon the exit from the church doors of the Colonel and the new Mrs. Forster, much to the excitement of many of the young ladies present. Such a colourful sight was rarely to be seen and they all dreamt of having just such a guard-of-honour at their own weddings.

  Lydia Bennet was amongst those ladies thinking such thoughts and, as soon as the service had ended, she left her parents and aunt and uncle behind, eagerly approaching the group of soldiers surrounding the Colonel and attached herself to Wickham's arm in a most proprietorial manner.

  "Escort me to the breakfast, Wickham! I do so enjoy a wedding, do not you? I thought Harriet looked very well in her gown and Colonel Forster very pleased to see her looking so well in it."

  "Indeed she did, Miss Lydia. They are a fortunately-matched couple and I wish them happiness with all my heart. But, should you not prefer to accompany your family to the breakfast?"

  "Oh, no! They are quite content amongst themselves; there is nothing for me to hear there."

  "In that case, I would be most happy to escort you, but take care; the way is rather muddy and I should not wish you to slip and ruin your dress."

  "If I should slip, I should probably take you with me and we would both be in the mud!" she flirted, quickly laughing. "I should not mind the mud if you were there too!"

  "Lydia!" He laughed uneasily, recalling Denny's warning. "You should not say such things." He looked around for assistance. "Denny; Carter! Wait for us and we will go together."

  "Shh! Do not call them over. We do not need their company in the slightest."

  "I thought you were good friends with my brother officers, Lydia? Have you had a falling out?"

  "Lord, no! They are still the same pleasant, charming men they always were, but they hold very little attraction for me when there are others to be had; one other to be had, I should say." Lydia pressed his arm and, while gazing meaningfully into his eyes, noticed a faint blush creeping up past his collar. She had discomfited him!

  Wickham leaned forward and murmured in her ear as the other officers approached. "I warn you, Miss Lydia - do not overstep yourself with me or any of my fellow officers, or you may find that you tread in mire too deep from which to extricate yourself without great cost. You should amuse yourself with those who can reciprocate your juvenile behaviour and will not try to take advantage of it, and who also have the means to support you."

  "Support me, Mr. Wickham? I do not know that an officer's wage is insufficient for any lady who does not expect too much. Why would Denny or Carter be better able to support a lady more than any other officer, I wonder? And why do you assume my behaviour to be juvenile, pray?" she laughed a little nervously.

  "I just mean to warn you that showing your affections in such an unguarded manner is not sensible," he finished as the other officers approached. "Keep your girlish notions to yourself and consider your situation in life. Not every young man will treat you with respect and good humour if they are faced with such an outrageous flirt.

  "Come Denny, Carter, shall we go now and congratulate the Colonel and his new bride?"

  And with that harsh warning ringing in her ears, Lydia was escorted, in a most perfunctory manner, to the house where Colonel Forster had set up lodgings, to enjoy the feast that had been provided for the wedding breakfast.

  Once there, to Lydia's despair, nothing she said or did was enough to get Mr. Wickham to pay her any further attention, and certainly not enough to make him gaze at her as ardently as she had often seen him do at her sister. In fact, whenever she made a joke about something; passed a clever comment on someone's attire; offered to share her pie with him, his reaction was coldly formal to each attempt. The other officers still found her humorous; they still complimented her on her quick wit; they were more than willing to fetch anothe
r drink or morsel of food without any prompting from her, but Wickham remained reserved and aloof. Indeed, if she was not mistaken, he rather wished himself miles away from her company.

  As soon as it was acceptable, Wickham absented himself from the festivities and the clinging attentions of Lydia. That girl would mean trouble not only for herself and her constant desire for entertainment, but also for any person who became involved with her, and her family would suffer greatly in the process. He hoped that he was wrong in his predictions but Denny's words and implicit meaning of those words haunted him every time he saw her. He saw what others were seeing: a young, immature girl given too much freedom and without the intelligence or guidance to know what her impetuous words and actions implied to others.

  As he passed through the hall of his lodgings, he saw a letter propped up in the dish on the table and, his heart beating erratically at the sight of the hand, rushed into his room and tore it open.

  My Dearest George,

  I have only now been able to respond sensibly to your letter and the words within it, and so please forgive the dilatory nature of this writer. Your decision, although long expected due to your circumstances, has caused me great pain as you knew it would. To know that you will no longer be in my life feels almost unendurable but I know it must be so for your sake.

  You are, of course, a handsome young man, and I have no doubt of you being a much sought-after husband provided your weaknesses can be overlooked or concealed. But handsome young men cannot live on their looks alone and must have something to live on; therefore, you must do what you must to ensure that living, even though it breaks my heart to tell you so.

  I wish you well in your endeavours but with the accompanying regret that our relationship will never now come to its proper fulfillment as we both once hoped it would. We are both now free to do as we please and I bear you no ill-will; rather I thank you for the times we have had together and will remember them with fondness always.

  J.

  Chapter 20

  Wickham sank into the chair by the dead fire and stared at Julia's writing through a blur. It contained no recrimination, no anger, just the acceptance of an anticipated fact. Perhaps that was the most painful part; that she had never really believed they would eventually manage to be together and this had somehow defended her against the pain of their inevitable separation, allowing her to write in such a calm and sensible manner.

  We are both now free to do as we please - there was almost a tone of relief in her statement; had she been awaiting her release from her relationship with him and all the trouble he had brought to it? She must have already calculated that he would never make a success of himself and would need someone else's fortune to keep up the appearance he had cultivated his entire life. Hers would never be on offer.

  Neither had she reciprocated his words of undying love, merely that his words had caused her pain. He, on the other hand, had begged forgiveness and understanding, as well as her continued love. But her response had been much colder: she regretted the situation, had long expected it, and wished him well in his execution of his plan.

  We are both now free to do as we please - what did she mean by that? Had she already someone else in mind? Someone she had been secreting away from him? Another lover? A more successful lover? Of course - that must be it!

  Wickham quickly became tortured by every word written by Julia; every one of them, he was certain, had many hidden meanings and by the end of the hour spent re-reading the letter, had convinced himself that she was almost on the verge of marrying another much more suitable and sensible man, a man who could support her in her businesses and with whom she could build a future without the inconvenience of a drunken gambler unable to manage his own life.

  Of course! he berated himself as he paced his room, all I can manage is to sabotage everything I put my hand to: money, love, business, relationships. No wonder Julia sounds relieved that I am gone from her life - why would not she?

  Upon finding himself once again in front of the fire, Wickham crumpled the letter tightly in his fist and made to throw it into the ashes, something with which to ignite his next fire, but his will deserted him and he retreated to the table where he carefully smoothed out the wrinkles and re-read the contents as he did so.

  To know that you will no longer be in my life feels almost unendurable - these did not seem to be the words of a woman on the verge of re-marriage to another man! Wickham brightened as he began to assimilate the actual tone and message of the letter. There was the Julia he had always known! Regretting that they would never be able to be together; wishing him well in his quest for security; but also letting him know how hurt she felt because of it.

  Now, all he longed to do was to go to her and take her in his arms; soothe her pain and assure her that everything would be as it always had been between them. But that was the root of the problem, right there; the rotten root. Everything could not continue as it always had: he had seen to that by not planning and providing for his future which could have included the love of his life if he had done so. There was no way to prove that he would manage his life any better in the future; he could not assure her of that.

  Therefore, he must continue with his plan of marriage, and soon. He must hide his despair and despondency, re-enter the world intent upon love, discover the woman who could supply his every want, and woo her until she was secured. And she must be secured as soon as may be if his perilous situation was not to be discovered. Many did it: it was a business contract for most people entering the marriage state and he did not think he would be any worse off than any other in that regard. He had just enough to pay a little off his bills and so induce the merchants to give him more time before reporting him to the Colonel, but that would not stall them for long. Only quantities of money would do that and he had to ensure that money was forthcoming. There was no one else, now, to whom he could apply for assistance.

  He pressed Julia's letter to his lips and then inserted it between the pages of a large book to keep it safe and out of the sight of inquisitive eyes. Just the thought that it resided there gave him happiness of a sort and encouraged him to do Julia's bidding. He then set out for the town in search of his friends who were, just now returning from the wedding breakfast and heading off towards the inn to continue their celebrations on the Colonel's behalf.

  Wickham had been through such a tumult of emotions in the past hour that he felt certain that the wedding had taken place many days before, and he was shocked to realise that the celebrations were only just concluding as he struggled to resume his former gaiety in the presence of his friends.

  "Wickham! My good man! Where did you disappear to, pray? You were greatly missed – Miss Lydia was most vexed at your absence and it was all I could do to keep her amused and in good spirits. You are unfair to her, you know. She says you were quite rude to her this morning; quite terse - is that true, sir? Is it possible that you shunned our most amusing lady friend? I told her it was all in her imagination but she would not be convinced."

  Wickham laughed, relieved that he did not have to endure her company any more that day. "I cannot think why she would claim such nonsense, Denny. I was as cordial towards her as I always am. I think you must pay her too much attention, and when others do not match you in enthusiasm, she feels slighted. Has the Colonel left already?"

  "Yes, they are gone for a week only. We wished him well on your behalf and assured him that we could certainly manage perfectly well without him for much longer if he should feel the need of an extended holiday. But he will return within the week, he says, before we become too much mired in scandal.

  "And what d'you mean, I must pay too much attention to Lydia? I assure you that I do not, no more than is reasonable; but she is a demanding young thing and expects attention every minute. Have no fear, Wickham, I am sure she will have forgiven you by the next time you meet."

  "I have no interest in Lydia Bennet, Denny, whatever she may have told you or believes to be true
. Indeed, I have little interest in young, untutored girls who only strive to draw the worst kind of attention to themselves. If I have a preference it is for someone with a gentle disposition and good manners; someone who will not demand my attention at every turn and sulk when it is not forthcoming. I cannot bear a woman unable to amuse herself."

  "Aha! You require a woman who is independent: in nature, in fortune, as well as in connections! I see what it is that you mean, Wickham! I wonder? Are you referring to a certain young lady, mentioned lately in passing, who might be that certain type of person? I could effect an introduction between you, if you would like; I believe she has sometimes been to the Philips' at-homes and that must surely be enough of a connection for anybody living within the confines of Meryton. Of course, the evenings she was in attendance, you were entirely taken up with Miss Elizabeth and had no eyes for any other person in the room!

  "No! No; do not thank me, dear man!” Denny waved away Wickham’s objection. “Your happiness is all I want and it will be procured as soon as may be. I hear she intends re-entering society soon, although still in mourning for her grandfather, which will, perforce, dampen your ardour a little, but as soon as I hear more, I shall not hesitate to mention your name at every opportunity. You have my word upon it, sir."

  Although Wickham felt more than a little tentative about his chosen path, over the next few days he made it his daily purpose to be found walking in the village alone, giving him the opportunity to doff his hat to Miss King and her mother on several occasions; a politeness not unbecoming for a gentleman in uniform and in slight knowledge of her situation and recent loss. Upon the third such encounter, he felt emboldened enough to speak her name as they passed; and upon the fifth, paused to compliment both her and her mother upon their apparent good health and recovery of spirits from their recent loss.