“Please, you must hear me out. This is difficult for me to say, and it does not reflect well on me.” He paused, rubbing his gloved hands together. “It is about Darcy. I have told you that he and I played together as boys. We were fast friends in those days. I recall how we used to play at war – my elder brother would take the general’s part, ordering Darcy and me into battle. We would pound those enemy saplings into submission with our toy swords.” He smiled at her.
Darcy again! This was not what she hoped to speak of in her last conversation with the charming lieutenant.
Uncomfortable, she said, “You need not tell me this, Mr. Wickham.”
“I fear I must, and you will soon understand why. As I said, Darcy and I were friends, until he went off to school and came back with a sense of his own superiority and the impropriety of spending time with one so far beneath him. I was crushed, to say the least. He, in turn, discovered that his father had taken to enjoying my companionship in his absence, and it made him jealous. I would deliberately say things to annoy him, and he would ignore me, adding insult to injury. And so our friendship turned into enmity, as is not uncommon between boys as they grow. But it would not have been an enmity had we not previously been friends.”
“His pride is insufferable!” Elizabeth said vehemently. “How could he treat an old friend in such a manner?”
Wickham shook his head. “Please do not misunderstand; he did not do anything cruel to me, merely avoided me. I was still old Mr. Darcy’s favourite, and he had promised me the living when it should become vacant. But he died first, leaving instructions that it was to be given to me. In truth, I always knew that young Darcy would deny me it. We could not have worked together, he and I, after everything we had been through; he disapproved of me as much as I disapproved of him. To his credit, he gave me a small sum of money in lieu of the preferment, but with such a look of scorn on his face that I have never forgotten it.”
“Mr. Wickham, I am not certain why you are telling me this,” Elizabeth said softly, though in truth she was touched by his confidence in her.
“I feel I have misled you through my complaints against Darcy. I am still hurt - and my pride is injured - by how he treated me, but I also recognize that he is not at heart an unfair man. Proud and uncompromising, disdainful of those beneath him, yes, but who would not be in his position? He is not a villain, Miss Elizabeth, but in my anger I have given you the impression that he is. It was a petty revenge I was taking, to make people think poorly of him, but I thought it harmless since none of those people were within his circle of interest. No one, until you. You have paid an enormous price for my pride.”
“Mr. Wickham,” she said, “It was not solely on your report that my impression of his character was formed.”
“Please, allow me to finish. I have struggled to find the courage to say these things to you, and hope you will forgive the frankness with which I speak. I am aware that your father’s estate is entailed. Your family’s circumstances will be straitened after his death, and you will all suffer for it, unless one of you marries well. I do not ever wish to see you suffer in any way, Miss Elizabeth. Darcy could provide for your family. He could give you the most beautiful home in the world, Pemberley. He would treat you well; he is generous and loyal to those he considers his equal. And I, by pouring my poison in your ear, have cost you this. I will never forgive myself for that. The only possible amends within my power is to make this confession to you, to clear Darcy’s name as much as I can, and to encourage you to give him a second chance. If he sees you again, his feelings will be rekindled; I know that, because he has never been fickle. Please consider this, Miss Elizabeth, for my sake if for no other reason.”
“For your sake?”
“For my very selfish sake. While my primary concern is for you and your family, I cannot deny that there is more. If you were to marry Darcy, perhaps he and I might be reconciled, at least enough that I could return to live at Pemberley. I miss my home, my family, my old friends. I have a grandmother who has not long to live, and it would please her more than anything if I were to return home. And I would be able to see you, at least from time to time.”
Elizabeth’s eyes filled with tears at the thought of his exile. “I am sorry, Mr. Wickham. Your concern is appreciated, but even if I wished for it, I doubt Mr. Darcy would so much as speak to me if he saw me again, much less make me an offer. He may have redeeming features, but he is still the last man in the world I would wish to marry.” She could see he was preparing to argue further. “If you will excuse me, the next set is starting, and my partner will be wondering where I am.”
Wickham’s mouth twisted in a sad half-smile, as if to say he had done his best. “Please consider what I have said. Should you ever change your mind, Miss Elizabeth, do not forget that I am your friend, and you can reach me in Brighton.”
With some asperity, Elizabeth wondered whether gentlemen from Derbyshire commonly thought nothing of exchanging letters with unmarried women, but she glanced back at him once after wishing him goodnight. She would indeed miss his company.
***
Longbourn seemed very quiet after the departure of the regiment, especially since Lydia followed them to Brighton in the company of her friend, Mrs. Forster. Elizabeth devoutly hoped, rather than believed, that Mrs.
Forster would keep her youngest sister out of mischief ’s way. Mrs. Bennet and Kitty were disconsolate at the lack of officers in Meryton, their piteous complaints frequently driving Mr. Bennet to closet himself in his library.
Elizabeth counted herself fortunate to have something pleasant to anticipate. Her aunt and uncle Gardiner had offered to take her with them on a tour of the Lake District, and she was as happy to anticipate an extended time in their sensible company as the chance to visit sights she had always wished to see.
The time fixed for the beginning of their Northern tour was now fast approaching; and a fortnight only was wanting of it when a letter arrived from Mrs. Gardiner which at once delayed its commencement and curtailed its extent. Mr. Gardiner would be prevented by business from setting out till a fortnight later in July, and must be in London again within a month. As that left too short a period for them to go so far, they were obliged to give up the Lakes, and substitute a more contracted tour; and, according to the present plan, were to go no farther northward than Derbyshire. In that county, there was enough to be seen to occupy the chief of their three weeks; and to Mrs. Gardiner it had a peculiarly strong attraction. The town where she had formerly passed some years of her life, and where they were now to spend a few days, was probably as great an object of her curiosity, as all the celebrated beauties of Matlock, Chatsworth, Dovedale, or the Peak.
Elizabeth was excessively disappointed; she had set her heart on seeing the Lakes; and still thought there might have been time enough. But it was her business to be satisfied, and certainly her temper to be happy; and all was soon right again.
With the mention of Derbyshire, there were many ideas connected. It was impossible for her to contemplate it without thinking of Pemberley and its owner. What if their paths should cross in Derbyshire? It was unlikely, given the size of the county, but she could not help worrying over it. Her anger with him had waned with time, especially since Mr. Wickham’s confession, and the compliment of such a man’s affection was more prominent. Still, she felt no desire to see him ever again.
Her recollections of her behaviour at the time of their confrontation at Hunsford were not happy ones.
Regardless of the provocation Mr. Darcy had given, she could not justify her own lack of civility and intemperate words. What would she say if they met? She could only pray that it would never come to pass.
CHAPTER 4
Derbyshire proved to be a more satisfactory substitute for the Lake District than Elizabeth had anticipated.
Having admired the dramatic scenery, the hilly towns built all of stone, and the beauties of Dove Dale, Elizabeth understood better Mr. Wickham’s longing to r
eturn to the land of his birth. She was herself sufficiently taken with the landscape as to wonder if she, after spending a mere fortnight there, might not long for it for the rest of her days.
After seeing all the principal wonders of the country, the travellers bent their steps to the little town of Lambton, where Mrs. Gardiner had spent her youth. Elizabeth had thought little of the location until her aunt informed her that Pemberley was situated not five miles from Lambton. It was not in their direct road, nor more than a mile or two out of it. Mrs. Gardiner expressed an inclination to see the place again.
“My love, should not you like to see a place of which you have heard so much?” said her aunt. “A place too, with which so many of your acquaintance are connected. Wickham passed all his youth there, you know.”
Elizabeth was distressed. She felt that she had no business at Pemberley, and was obliged to assume a disinclination for seeing it. She must own that she was tired of great houses; after going over so many, she really had no pleasure in fine carpets or satin curtains.
Mrs. Gardiner would not stand for it. “If it were merely a fine house richly furnished, I should not care about it myself; but the grounds are delightful. They have some of the finest woods in the country.”
Elizabeth said no more, but her mind could not acquiesce. The possibility of meeting Mr. Darcy, while viewing the place, instantly occurred. She blushed at the very idea; and thought it would be better to speak openly to her aunt than to run such a risk. But against this there were objections; and she finally resolved that it could be the last resource, if her private enquiries as to the absence of the family were unfavourably answered.
Accordingly, when she retired at night, she asked the chambermaid whether Pemberley were not a very fine place, what was the name of its proprietor, and, with no little alarm, whether the family were down for the summer. A most welcome negative followed the last question, and her alarm being now removed, she was at leisure to feel a great deal of curiosity to see the house herself. When the subject was revived the next morning, she could readily answer with a proper air of indifference that she had not really any dislike to the scheme.
To Pemberley, therefore, they were to go.
***
As the carriage approached Pemberley, Elizabeth's mind was too full for conversation, but she saw and admired every remarkable spot and point of view. Pemberley House, situated on the opposite side of a valley, was a large, handsome, stone building, standing well on rising ground, backed by a ridge of high woody hills; and in front, a stream of some natural importance was swelled into greater, but without any artificial appearance.
Its banks were neither formal, nor falsely adorned. Elizabeth was delighted. She had never seen a place for which nature had done more, or where natural beauty had been so little counteracted by an awkward taste.
The housekeeper, a respectable-looking, elderly woman, much less fine and more civil than Elizabeth had any notion of finding her, welcomed them into the house. Inside, the rooms were lofty and handsome, and their furniture suitable to the fortune of their proprietor. It was neither gaudy nor uselessly fine; with less of splendor, and more real elegance, than the furniture of Rosings.
And of this place she might have been mistress! With these rooms she might now have been familiarly acquainted. Instead of viewing them as a stranger, she might have rejoiced in them as her own, and welcomed to them as visitors her uncle and aunt. But no, that could never be. The Gardiners would have been lost to her.
She would not have been allowed to invite them; and she should have lived such a life of misery with Mr.
Darcy as to make any consolation impossible.
She longed to enquire of the housekeeper whether her master were really absent, but had not courage for it. At length, however, the question was asked by her uncle; and she turned away with alarm, while Mrs.
Reynolds replied that he was, adding, “But we expect him tomorrow, with a large party of friends.” Elizabeth rejoiced that their own journey had not by any circumstance been delayed a day.
Her aunt now called her to look at a picture. She approached, and saw the likeness of Mr. Wickham suspended, amongst several other miniatures, over the mantelpiece. The housekeeper came forward, and told them it was the picture of a young gentleman, the son of her late master's steward, who had been brought up by him at his own expense. “He is now gone into the army,” she added, “but I am afraid he has turned out very wild.”
Elizabeth tightened her lips. Had Mr. Darcy employed his malice toward his old friend even at Pemberley, in Wickham’s own home? No wonder Wickham felt he could not return there. She wondered if the people of Pemberley believed Mr. Darcy’s slanders, or whether they recalled Wickham’s amiability and question the truth.
The housekeeper, either from pride or attachment, had evidently great pleasure in talking of her master, but she sounded truly indignant when discussing Mr. Wickham. And Mr. Wickham had admitted at their last meeting that he had not been fully truthful when speaking of Mr. Darcy. Was that enough to cast doubt on everything he had said?
“And that,” said Mrs. Reynolds, pointing to another of the miniatures, “is my master, and very like him. It was drawn at the same time as the other—about eight years ago.”
“I have heard much of your master's fine person,” said Mrs. Gardiner, looking at the picture; “it is a handsome face. But, Lizzy, you can tell us whether it is like or not.”
Mrs. Reynolds's respect for Elizabeth seemed to increase on this intimation of her knowing her master.
“Does the young lady know Mr. Darcy?”
Elizabeth coloured, and said, “A little.”
“And do not you think him a very handsome gentleman, Ma'am?”
“Yes, very handsome.” It seemed the only thing she could say in civility, and in truth, Mr. Darcy’s appearance was handsome; it was only in his behaviour that she saw ugliness.
“I am sure I know none so handsome; but in the gallery up stairs you will see a finer, larger picture of him than this. This room was my late master's favourite room, and these miniatures are just as they used to be then.
He was very fond of them.”
This accounted to Elizabeth for Mr. Wickham's being among them. Was that truly the source of Mr.
Darcy’s dislike of him – a jealousy of his father’s affection for a mere steward’s son?
“Is your master much at Pemberley in the course of the year?” asked Mr. Gardiner.
“Not so much as I could wish, sir; but I dare say he may spend half his time here; and Miss Darcy is always down for the summer months.”
“If your master would marry, you might see more of him.”
“Yes, but I do not know when that will be. I do not know who is good enough for him.”
Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner smiled, but Elizabeth could think of nothing to say. Mrs. Reynolds’ views were no doubt coloured by her employment, but she seemed firm in her opinions.
“I say no more than the truth, and what everybody will say that knows him,” replied the housekeeper.
Elizabeth thought this was going pretty far; and she listened with increasing astonishment as Mrs. Reynolds added, “I have never had a cross word from him in my life, and I have known him ever since he was four years old.”
This was praise, of all others most extraordinary, most opposite to her ideas. That he was not a good tempered man had been her firmest opinion. His comportment had always indicated ill temper, and he himself had said he was of a resentful disposition. Her curiosity was awakened; she longed to hear more, and was grateful to her uncle for saying, “There are very few people of whom so much can be said. You are lucky in having such a master.”
“Yes, sir, I know I am. If I was to go through the world, I could not meet with a better. But I have always observed that they who are good-natured when children are good-natured when they grow up; and he was always the sweetest-tempered, most generous-hearted, boy in the world.”
Elizabeth almost s
tared at her. Her thoughts tumbled in confusion. The housekeeper seemed so sincere. It was as if they were speaking of two different gentlemen.
“His father was an excellent man,” said Mrs. Gardiner.
“Yes, Ma'am, that he was indeed; and his son will be just like him—just as affable to the poor. He is the best landlord, and the best master that ever lived. Not like the wild young men now-a-days, who think of nothing but themselves. There is not one of his tenants or servants but what will give him a good name. Some people call him proud; but I am sure I never saw any thing of it. To my fancy, it is only because he does not rattle away like other young men.”
“This fine account of him,” whispered her aunt, as they walked, “is not quite consistent with his behaviour to Mr. Wickham.”
“No, it is not. Perhaps she fears that I might report any criticism she makes to Mr. Darcy.”
In the gallery there were many family portraits, but they could have little to fix the attention of a stranger.
Elizabeth walked on in quest of the only face whose features would be known to her. At last it arrested her—and she beheld a striking resemblance of Mr. Darcy, with such a smile over the face as she remembered to have sometimes seen, when he looked at her. She stood several minutes before the picture in earnest contemplation, and returned to it again before they quitted the gallery, as if by gazing at it she could solve the conundrum of Mr. Darcy.
Mr. Darcy's Letter Page 4