The Goodness of Men

by Anngela Schroeder

  July 16, 1812

  Fitzwilliam Darcy looked up from his correspondence and glanced out the window of his study. It has been a week since the caverns. He stood and walked towards it, leaning against the pane and looking across at his stables. At the knock of the door he turned.

  “Enter.”

  The door gently swung open and his sister entered the room. He was struck how her golden curls reminded him of his mother.

  “Yes, Georgie?”

  “Wills, I do not wish to intrude, it is only…”

  “You are never a bother, my dear. Now what can I do for you?”

  “It is only… I am surprised you invited Cecilia Markham to my ball. I have not seen her since the spring of last year, when her parents removed her from school for a trip to the Americas. She is a year older and we were never that much acquainted.”

  “Oh? She has been in London and Phillip mentioned seeing her, and how her father boasted of what good friends you both were. I apologize. I should have consulted you.”

  “Mr. Turner?”

  “Yes.”

  She sat down on the sofa and relaxed into the cushions. “Oh, you have no idea what comfort that brings me.”

  “Truly, Poppet? Why?” Georgiana looked at him but said nothing. “You may speak freely.”

  “What a relief! For a very long time, I thought she had designs on you.”

  He stared blankly. “Me?”

  “She would often ask me about you. If you were engaged. If you had an interest in Miss Bingley…”

  “Miss Bingley?”

  “She believed you were too smart to marry someone from trade but informed me that other men had made stupid decisions before you, so you would not be the last.”

  “Oh?” Derision formed on his lips.

  “I…I have said too much.?”

  “No, Georgiana. I only find it amusing that a young woman who I have spoken no more than five words to would have so much interest in my life.”

  “Well, Brother”—she began to laugh— “you are Fitzwilliam Darcy, England’s most desirable bachelor.”

  “I am, am I? And what do you know about that?”

  Georgiana’s laugh lightened his heart. She sounds so much like Mother. “Well, dear brother. What else do young ladies sent away to school in London have to talk about? The war with Napoleon?”

  He chuckled with her again and was then grateful. I have not heard her laugh like that since before Ramsgate. Her spirits are improving. “Yes, well. I suppose it is only fair that young ladies think about young men because young men think about…”

  “Young men think about young ladies?” she interrupted.

  “No, I was going to say horses!”

  Georgiana picked up a book from his desk and gently swatted him on the arm. “You are such a tease!” She lay it back down, then sat in the chair across from him. “Who else have you invited to my birthday ball? Uncle and Aunt Matlock, cousin Richard. I know of the Markham’s and the Bingleys…” She playfully tapped her bottom lip with her finger. “Hmmm…. who else will be here? Hmmm…I believe I am forgetting someone… Oh, yes. Mr. Turner.” She coaxed him for information, her brow crinkling in question “No, no. Of course, but… Hmmm... That is right. Miss Elizabeth Bennet, correct? Now, how does this young lady, who I have never met in all of my life, secure an invitation to my birthday ball?”

  “Poppet, she is a guest at Chenowith. I think you will welcome her acquaintance.”

  Georgiana’s blue eyes widened, reminding him very much of his mother.

  “I also extended an invitation to a cousin of Mr. Anderson who has by now arrived at Chenowith. I did not meet her.”

  “I am sure she will be a lovely addition to my party. Mr. Anderson is a good man. How different can one’s relations be from the other?”

  She obviously forgets our aunt Catherine. “You are of course correct. Now, if you will leave me until dinner, I will dispose of all this correspondence and can promise you an uninterrupted evening of music, cards, and poetry.”

  “Then I will leave you, Brother.” Georgiana made no motion to rise from the chair.

  “Is there anything else, Georgie?”

  “Oh,” she said looking around the room. “Only waiting to learn a little bit more about this Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

  “Oh, you are, are you?” He leaned back in his own chair and steepled his fingers together. Having run Pemberley for the last five years, he was well aware of a business standoff. “And what exactly do you wish to know?”

  She smiled mischievously. “What exactly do you wish to tell?”

  “I have nothing to impart.”

  “Will? Forgive me.” She stood to leave.

  He looked up at her from where he was sitting and recognized the anxiety beginning to spread across her face. “It is only…Miss Elizabeth…” He saw the hope in her eyes and lowered his gaze. “Miss Elizabeth is everything that is lovely. She is fearless and intelligent, witty and beautiful…. There is something about her that is enchanting…” His voice trailed off, and he was interrupted by Georgiana’s giggles.

  “Will. I cannot believe it. You are in love!”

  He sniffed and gently shook his head. “I hold Miss Bennet in high esteem—”

  “But, if it is so high, might she not feel the same about you?” Her hopeful expression made his heart ache for her, suspecting how she must yearn for female companionship since their mother died. And how Elizabeth would be a perfect sister. She would bring joy back to Pemberley.

  “I am unsure.” He looked back out the window. “Her sentiments of me have been based on false information for so long, I can only hope to change her mind.”

  “But, Will…”

  “Georgie, we have only recently become reacquainted. It is much too early to profess such deep feelings. I do, however, have hope that she sees me in a favorable light.”

  He saw her expression change from one of trepidation to optimism. “Very well, William. I will be in the music room practicing if you have need for me.”

  He looked up and caught her sly smile. “Georgie? What are you plotting?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Georgiana. Promise me you will not attempt to play matchmaker to Miss Bennet or myself when she is here next week.”

  “I promise.”

  “Georgiana?”

  “Will, I promise to not play matchmaker between you and Miss Bennet.”

  “Very well, then. Run along.” She leaned over and kissed his check before leaving the room. That girl! If only I could trust that grin of hers!

  Elizabeth had wandered the house in search of Mrs. Green. Her young abigail, Sarah, had mentioned the housekeeper had the day off but would return after dinner. Elizabeth had found the others in the music room save Mrs. Wickham, who had retired early to rest. She then confided her concerns of Mr. Wickham to Mr. Turner, who immediately rose to write to Mr. Darcy. But curiosity to Mrs. Green’s reaction to Mr. Wickham’s name led Elizabeth to find her way below stairs, passing more than one shocked footman and maid.

  “Miss?” Sarah asked when she discovered Elizabeth wandering in the kitchen. “What do you do here? How may I help you?”

  “I am searching for Mrs. Green.”

  “For me, Miss Bennet? How might I be of assistance?”

  Elizabeth looked from Mrs. Green to the young maid, who must have realized she was no longer needed. When they were alone, Elizabeth turned to the older woman and asked, “Might there be somewhere we could talk?”

  “Yes, of course. Please follow me to my office.”

  Elizabeth moved down the hallway. The corridor was dark with little light filtering in and she realized she had never, in all her years, had a private meeting with Longbourn’s housekeeper, Mrs. Hill.

  Elizabeth did not know how to begin. “Well, I am afraid you will find me impertinent….”

  They entered the office, and Mrs. Green closed the door behind her. “How can I help you, Miss Bennet?”


  “I noticed when Mrs. Wickham was introduced you were as shocked as I was. Might I ask if you knew her husband, and how?”

  Mrs. Green shifted in her seat and folded her hands in her lap. “I began service while working as a laundry maid for Pemberley shortly before Mr. Darcy brought Lady Anne home as his bride. My cousin left the employ of Lord and Lady Matlock, the young Mr. Darcy’s aunt and uncle, and a position as a housemaid came available, and I was able to move there. I have known Mr. Wickham since he was a young boy.”

  “You have?”

  “I was very…surprised… to meet a young woman claiming to be his wife. However, I am certain, it cannot be the same Mr. Wickham.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “I have not had the history that you have had with Mr. Wickham but according to Mrs. Wickham herself, it is.”

  “Oh.”

  “May I ask what made you surprised that a young woman would claim to be his wife?”

  She could see Mrs. Green battling with her thoughts. “Miss Bennet, there are things that I have been privy to as a member of the households that others would not know—that would not be suitable for the ears of a young lady.” Elizabeth attempted to keep her face passive so the older woman would continue. “Lord Matlock’s second son, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, has been almost like a brother to young Mr. Darcy. The boys would often come to me when they were young and tell me their troubles. I learned many a story about young Mr. Wickham…but there now. It is not good to speak ill of the dead.”

  “Mrs. Green,” Elizabeth said holding up her hand. “It is not as you believe. Mr. Wickham is not dead.”

  A shocked silence entered the room before she responded. “How can that be?”

  “If he is the very same Mr. Wickham who grew up at Pemberley, he is a soldier in the militia stationed in Brighton as we speak.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “I met Mr. Wickham several months ago and formed an acquaintance with him, as well as the two soldiers Mrs. Wickham claimed wrote her the letters upon his death. Mr. Turner has been informed and has already written to Mr. Darcy.”

  The housekeeper snorted, threw her head back, and spoke to the ceiling. “Can that dear man ever escape him? He has haunted him his whole life!”

  Seeming to realize what she was saying, Mrs. Green clasped her hands and clamped her lips shut. “Miss, there will not be a word out of my mouth. I will also make sure Mrs. Wickham, whether or not that’s really who the poor girl is, will be treated well.”

  “I am certain of it, Mrs. Green.”

  “Is there anything else, Miss?”

  “Yes, yes there is.” Hesitantly, Elizabeth continued. “Why might Mr. Darcy have not wanted to explore the Cavern’s at Poole?”

  Mrs. Green shuddered.

  “The Darcy family has resided in Derbyshire since the time of William the Conqueror with its influence being felt throughout the North of England. However, although above others, they treat everyone with respect, from the laborers in the fields, to a young laundry maid who burned a hole in the mistresses’ favorite dress with a goffering iron.” She offered a small smile and continued.

  “When the young master was but five years old, a merchant family moved into the county. Mr. Miller was from Glasgow and his family had been from the original Cordiner leather guild. He made the most beautiful saddles, and the elder Mr. Darcy often purchased them, as well as belts, bags, and other leatherworks from him. When the young Mr. Darcy was twelve years old, the master took the boys with him one day to the Millers’ to purchase a saddle for Mrs. Darcy’s new mare.”

  “The boys?” Elizabeth asked. “Do you mean the younger Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham?”

  “Well, yes, but I would never refer to George Wickham as one of the boys.” The housekeeper shook her head. “The young masters Henry and Fitzwilliam.”

  “I only learned that Mr. Darcy had an elder brother.”

  “Yes. But only his elder by fifteen months. Master Henry Darcy was the heir to Pemberley, and a more mischievous scamp was not to be found.” She laughed. “He would drag young master Fitzwilliam into so many scrapes, but you could not find a more loving and loyal brother. And the Matlock servants felt the same of him when he would visit his aunt and uncle. He was always telling jokes and bringing us flowers, but we knew it was because the sweets in our pockets. Spare the rod and spoil the child,” she said with a far-off grin.

  “What happened to him?” Elizabeth knew the answer before the words had finished coming from her mouth.

  “Well, when the master went to purchase the saddle, the Darcy boys and George Wickham went off to visit with the Miller boys, and as they often did, they went into the caverns.”

  “Alone?”

  She nodded and continued. “The boys went to their favorite pool to swim, taking a lantern with them. I have never been in the caves, but I understand the pool is very large and has a slide formed from the rocks.”

  Elizabeth could only nod.

  The older woman looked down at her hands before gazing back at Elizabeth. “George Wickham challenged young Master Fitzwilliam to see who could climb the rocks the fastest. As you might guess, the young master even then was not a risk taker and was not confident in his swimming abilities, so he refused the challenge.”

  A sadness came across the woman’s face as she continued with her story. “George Wickham mocked him. Master Henry wouldn’t allow his brother to be treated that way. Humph!” The emotion in her breast shone forth in her red cheeks. “George Wickham imagined himself better than he was, and sounds as if he still does, based on that poor lamb upstairs!”

  “But Mrs. Green. He was a child.”

  “That is true, miss. And having grown up with five brothers, I understand how boys will act when together. But, there was very little kindness in him from the time he was a wee boy.”

  Elizabeth nodded and waited for the woman to continue her story to hear the inevitable.

  “From what the maids at Pemberley told us, Master Henry swam across the pool and met Wickham on the bottom of the rocks. Master Fitzwilliam held the lantern on shore, and both the Miller boys were next to him as judges. When they said go, young Master Henry and Wickham raced to the top of the rocks evenly matched. When Master Henry broke ahead of him and was prepared to slide down to win, Wickham tripped him!”

  Elizabeth gasped as the older woman once again swallowed her emotions. “He fell and hit his head and landed in the water. In shock, Master Fitzwilliam dropped the lantern and the light was extinguished. I am sure you can imagine the chaos that happened. All the boys were screaming and splashing trying to get to young Master Henry in the blackness of the cave. From what I understand, they swam to where he went in but could not immediately find him. His body had sunk down, and it took some time to bring him to shore.

  “Without a light and with their emotions so high, it took the Miller boys almost forever to find their way out of the caves and locate their father and the elder Mr. Darcy. So, young master Fitzwilliam sat there in the darkness cradling the body of his brother waiting for help.”

  Horror washed over Elizabeth as she knew what it had cost Mr. Darcy to stand at that pool the week before. “And Mr. Wickham? What did he do to help? Did he not stay with the Darcy brothers waiting for the elder Mr. Darcy?”

  “George Wickham did what George Wickham has always done when he was going to have to face the piper…he ran!”

  “He ran?”

  “He found his way out with the Miller boys and then ran to the next village. He caught a ride with one of the Lambton merchants on his way back from market. Several hours later, when they finally arrived back at Pemberley, Mr. Darcy was so grateful his godson had been unharmed, he cleaved to him and would hear nothing against him for the remainder of his days. Through a father’s grief, Wickham was elevated. And the poor young master. He has never recovered. It is said that up until only a few years ago he had to sleep with a lantern in his room.”

  “But you cannot blame M
r. Wickham. He was but a stupid child.”

  “My story is not to cast blame on the child that George Wickham was, only to give reasons for why he became the man that he did. The next year, both master Fitzwilliam and Wickham were sent to school at Eton. According to Lady Matlock, George Wickham changed. Small, childish pranks were replaced by heedless transgressions. Not wanting his father to suffer any more grief, Master Fitzwilliam paid off debts Wickham began to run up amongst his school mates. Soon, the debts became larger, and his appetite for immorality grew as the boys became men.”

  Elizabeth winced at the picture being painted of the man she had believed she knew.

  “Miss Bennet. There are other claims against the honor and integrity of George Wickham which cause him not to have the love of many at Pemberley and Matlock. As I said, there are things a gently bred lady should not know. But suffice to say, Mrs. Wickham is not the first young lady who has claimed a connection to him while being in her condition. However, she is the first who has stated a marriage took place—and not just the promise of one.”

  “Goodness! I cannot believe that this has happened as often as you say!”

  “Let us just say that, according to my sister, if all his seed was called to testify against him, the rooms of Parliament would be splitting at the seams.”

  Chapter 10

  July 17, 1812

  “Aunt?” Elizabeth knocked at Madeline Gardiner’s room.

  “Lizzy, come in, dear girl. Amelia and I are going with Mrs. Green up to the attics in search of a cradle for Mrs. Wickham’s baby. Would you care to join us in a few minutes?”

  “Thank you, no. But I will keep you company until you are ready.” She sat down leaning her head back and closing her eyes. She had never before felt so hollow.

  “Marie,” Mrs. Gardiner said, nodding to her young maid, “if I need you before dinner, I will ring.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Elizabeth heard the door close and felt the presence of her aunt before opening her eyes.