by Anne Morris
Wickham was beginning to question this venture for a number of reasons: the first being all the other officers were gentlemen-born. They were younger sons of landed gentry or peers, and he found that even though he was a lieutenant; it had been like his enlisted days in the navy. Though he had the same rank as Denny, Denny was the fourth son of a Viscount, and often pulled rank on him in that manner he had suffered from before, simply because of their social standing, and regardless of their commission rank.
Wickham was also often in want of money. He found that Meryton had too small of a society to allow him to invest in the sorts of intrigues he had effected when it came to widows—young widows—who might be fleeced out of money with flattering words. They were all a rather tight-knit and gossipy bunch of people in this village. In London, one could move anonymously and never be found out; here, everyone kept tabs on him.
He had also been disappointed in the Bennet family—there had been no money there. Miss King he had given over, because his colonel had been interested, but once his colonel had gone away to marry Miss Smith, Wickham attempted to court Miss King again, but her uncle decided to take her to Weymouth for a trip. It seemed that everyone who could afford to, had gone away. It was all about the business, all about that nasty business in London. He supposed that Brighton, being a far larger town, would afford him more opportunities for money-making, but it had been six months, and he was considering that this spell as a militia officer had been a bad move.
Then, as it always happened for him, luck went his way, and he heard about Mr. Bingley's engagement. And on the heels of that was the fact, the certified fact, as he talked to Mrs. Nicholls, who was one of the few widows who was willing to be entertained—and he also had it confirmed by a letter from Mrs. Younge—that Darcy was to come, and not simply to come for the wedding by showing up the day before, but Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, his old friend, was to come to Netherfield for an extended visit, and to bring Miss Georgiana Darcy with him, whom Wickham had not seen since he had left Derbyshire. Georgiana Darcy, a girl of sixteen—of a marriageable age—and with a dowry of thirty thousand pounds. An apple ripe for picking.
• • •
Darcy and Georgiana settled at Netherfield. He had a certain bewilderment yet excitement at the prospect of seeing Elizabeth Bennet again, but waited until there was a natural time to call at Longbourn, despite a desire to leave the unpacking to his valet and to ride or walk over the very afternoon of his arrival to see her. He had so much he wanted to say to her, so much that he wished to set straight between them.
Georgiana was quite insistent that she call on her dear friend Lydia, and he allowed himself to be cajoled into that task as soon as they had broken their fast the next morning, to order the carriage, and to take his sister, and his love-sick friend, to Longbourn. Georgiana chattered the entire way, exclaiming about the delights of Hertfordshire, and how pretty it was. Spring had painted a greener and more lush picture here than in Derbyshire where spring still seemed to be wrestling with winter.
All of the Bennet daughters but Elizabeth, were in the morning parlor to receive them and introductions were made, though Georgiana and Lydia were the focus of attention. They were loud in their exclamations of pleasure at the sight of each other after such a long absence. They hooked their arms around each other, and dropped themselves together on a sofa to talk with a sister trailing in their wake. Darcy found himself making some sort of conversation with the bookish sister, Mary, and Mrs. Bennet, as his friend had managed to steal his bride-to-be off for a walk in a way he envied. It had been neatly and slyly done.
"Elizabeth has not returned from her walk," said Mrs. Bennet. "She went out for one after breakfast today, though I wonder that she put it off until after the meal; she usually walks beforehand. I believe we knew that you had come to town. Mr. Bingley informed us that you were due to arrive."
"I am sorry to have missed her," replied Mr. Darcy. "I am sure in the coming days to have ample opportunity to see her." He thought then that she was deliberately attempting to avoid him; she had to know he and Georgiana would call this morning. His sister's eagerness to see Lydia would mean they assuredly would call at Longbourn. Elizabeth must have no wish to encounter him, and was affecting any means she could to avoid his society. It was a thought that made his heart tighten up within his chest.
The door opened, and that heart that had just despaired, leapt at the sight of Elizabeth. She was followed, however, by three officers, Captain Carter, Mr. Denny, and Mr. Wickham. His happiness crashed down around him, and he looked over at his sister sitting across the room, far away from him and his protection. Did Georgiana remember Mr. Wickham from her childhood? He did not trust the man near his sister, and Darcy had not considered his adversary when he had made his plans to come to Netherfield, to come help his friend before the wedding, and to surreptitiously see Elizabeth Bennet.
"Forgive me, Mamma," said Elizabeth, who smiled at her mother, "I remembered we were to have visitors; I did not forget. But I went to town to check on our mail, and ran into these gentlemen, I am afraid I lost track of the time. They were so kind as to escort me home."
Mrs. Bennet was emphatic in her welcome to the officers and introductions were made in the room. Darcy could see all three of the men eying his sister and considering her merits: both her character and her fortune. He had often seen newly-introduced men do the same thing, and it was an activity he would never get used to, it was one which always made him distraught.
Elizabeth took a seat with Captain Carter sitting beside her, but the two lieutenants went to seat themselves near his sister, leaving him with Mrs. Bennet and Mary on his end of the room. He could not attend their conversation, but watched the way his sister and her friend relished the attentions of the officers, and though they spoke of only general subjects, his sister was delighted. Darcy would need to warn her about George Wickham's propensities.
• • •
It had been so easy. He had been in the center of town, having wormed away from his morning duties, and saw Miss Bennet hurrying across the square with a letter in her hand, and had hailed her. She had politely stopped to speak to him, mentioning having left home later than planned, of her desire to post her letter, and return home quickly; so he had done the opposite, and delayed her by engaging her about her time in Scarborough as he walked along beside her.
Wickham listened half-heartedly, hoping only that she would not excuse herself, and she did not. That smitten fool, Captain Carter, had come upon them then, though, and Wickham thought he would be sent on some errand, but found that Carter was too focused on Miss Bennet to consider any of their responsibilities that morning. Mr. Denny joined them at some point, and they all had made the short trip to Longbourn, speaking of travel as they walked.
Wickham had certainly had a lot of his own travels, but travel that was so often directed by someone else. Being sent to sea to actually fight a damned war when he was in the navy had never been what he planned to do, but the Spanish ladies had been very sweet. He was to soon travel to Brighton where he assumed the ladies would be just as sweet and accommodating, but again it was travel under someone else's orders, though also at someone else's expense. His object obtained, they reached Longbourn, and he was reintroduced to his childhood friends, Darcy and Georgiana.
Georgiana Darcy had not ripened into the best looking woman he had seen. He thought her too thin and considered her cousin, Anne de Bourgh, who was so small she looked child-like. The late Mrs. Darcy had been more curvaceous, though he lied to Georgiana, and told her she looked beautiful, like her mother, 'exactly alike,' and said he remembered her mother, very well indeed. She had lit up at that whispered comment, and though she had not said anything to him—he knew he had her attention—and she would seek him out in another setting when she was not so much under her brother's eye.
• • •
Caroline Bingley made her choice and was resolved, despite its not being exactly what she had once considered
for herself, and attempted to find some happiness in it. Mr. Nash had a decent estate with six thousand a year and seemed fond enough of her. He was as good-looking as a man in his late forties could be supposed to look, and had been the handsomest of her suitors. She had somehow been able to impart that she was looking for a widower, and not for a younger man as she began her search that spring. Mr. Nash had broad shoulders and his face was not overly covered with wrinkles; he still had hair covering the top of his head, teeth in his mouth, nor did he sport a heavy paunch in front as so many other men of that age seemed to do, indicative of their fondness for wine and food, and their disinclination for sport.
Mr. Nash would look good on her arm as they moved about the drawing rooms of London, and Caroline was happy enough to be considering him her betrothed. He also did not come with a large family as he only had the one young daughter, aged nine, who would need a governess for a few years more, and then could be sent off to school. Mr. Nash had been at pains for them to meet and to attempt to be friends. Caroline knew nothing about children—after all, she had been the youngest of her family—but had, in order to secure him, been kind to the little child, who was shy, rather than talkative as she had expected. The girl had been petite and dark, polite but quiet, which were good qualities in a step-daughter. Mr. Nash mostly had dark hair, and Caroline supposed that this child, Evangeline, took her looks from her father. It had gone as well as expected. What was really expected was that there would be more children. The late Mrs. Nash had been ill for years, and Mr. Nash wished for a son to inherit his estate, Forneaux.
Caroline thought she would be willing, and knew from experience the pleasures of being in a gentleman's arms. She smiled as Miss Springer congratulated her for perhaps the third time on her betrothal with obvious envy; Beatrice had tried for over six Seasons to find a husband, but to no avail. The joys of the bedchamber would be something to look forward to, since Caroline had already experienced them before, and it was why she had been determined to secure a reasonably handsome husband.
But it had also been her biggest mistake in life. That first Season, when her brother had introduced her to Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, she thought she could do no better, and had been willing to skirt society's rules in order to potentially land a handsome and rich husband. In meeting Mr. Darcy, however, she had been introduced to a level of society she had, heretofore, never moved in and had met his cousin, Lord Radbourne, heir to an Earldom. Caroline had mistakenly moved her eyes from Mr. Darcy, who had openly admired her, to his cousin who had openly admitted to be looking for a wife.
It had been at Lady Complin's house party that summer, for two glorious weeks there had been clandestine meetings between her and Radbourne whenever they could engineer it—and they were not the only ones walking about the hallways late at night—but it had not been a move which induced the Viscount to propose. She had been relieved to find herself not burdened with a child afterward, though she wondered, now that she was being married for her procreative abilities, whether she might be barren. Louisa seemed to be, not that Hurst seemed the type of man interested in having children, but Caroline knew Louisa longed for children as all their other sisters had hordes of them.
After that house party and coming away empty-handed, with no proposal, no Countess title in the future to contemplate for herself, Caroline could never go back to flirting with Mr. Darcy. It would be…rude…somehow, despite his interest. She was perfectly willing to marry a widower, but could not give herself to a man like Darcy. Such became her lot in life with her, mistake always at the back of her mind, and she was determined to find happiness with Mr. Nash and little Evangeline, and hope that she might be able to conceive a child, despite her past experience. She was, after all, marrying a man who wished for more children.
Eighteen
—
Wickham Weaves a Web
Elizabeth allowed herself to be of use to Jane; she enjoyed helping her sister prepare for her wedding, and also to consider the possibilities of this change, her new life. Jane had always wished for marriage, a comfortable home, a handsome husband, and had found all of that. Jane had a glow about her that was infectious, and Elizabeth devoted her days to helping her sister and mother with wedding preparations.
If she was also foregoing her usual walks in the hills and pathways of Hertfordshire in order to help, no one in her family commented. No one commented about how often Mr. Darcy came to accompany his sister when Georgiana came to visit Lydia, despite the fact that he displayed that same reticence to talk which he had done before. If Elizabeth was avoiding any possibility of meeting Mr. Darcy on her walks by helping her sister, no one said a word. No one, in fact, noticed.
She spoke to Mr. Darcy when they were in company together with every measure of politeness and would not allow any family member or friend to suspect what had occurred between them in Scarborough. Elizabeth did her best to not allow even the minutest of intimacies, however, so she ensured she had no open seat next to her in a room; would wait to take the fourth seat at a card table, only after confirming he was not seated at it, and prayed that a hostess would not place him by her side at a dinner.
There was pleasure in helping to plan for Jane's wedding. The Gardiners and all the little cousins were to come for a visit; Mr. Bingley's sisters were all to invade his own home, so there were many friends and new acquaintance and parties to look forward to—the monthly Meryton Assembly was but two days before the wedding, and was taking on the aspects of being a betrothal ball for Mr. Bingley and Jane. So long as she did her best to avoid any personal conversation with Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth found she did well enough with him when they met in company.
• • •
The monthly Assembly was to take place on Saturday, and Lydia was looking forward to going as she had been promised by Mr. Bennet to be allowed not only to attend, but also to dance. She was eager, anxious even, to have her friend attend as well. Georgiana worried her brother would not allow her to go since she was not out. She appealed to Fitzwilliam to allow her attendance, and he was adamant that she should not go. But after more than a day of quarreling, his arguments softened. It was difficult for him to deny her attendance, she knew, as he was to go because the Assembly had grown to become one largely in celebration of, and to honor Mr. Bingley and bride.
Georgiana mentioned how her friend Lydia had attended an Assembly once, but did not dance, and perhaps she might do the same? All the while, Georgiana considered that she would, somehow, figure out some way to dance. Her brother must have known that he would not be able to enforce such an injunction as attending but not dancing. He finally agreed to the scheme—he allowed her to do both. She was delighted to have, once again, won her point.
• • •
Wickham came to realize that the Henry Mandeville that he had known when he was in the navy, and who had been an enlisted man, was actually the son of a local baronet. He thought what an odd coincidence it was that he had joined the Monmouthshire militia, had come to Meryton, and it turned out that it was Mandeville's grandfather who owned Netherfield Hall.
He wondered why Mandeville had enlisted, if he was a baronet's son: the man should have been an officer. He wondered too why the baronet had moved away—he heard that he still lived—and Wickham considered whether there were any possibilities for money to be extorted from the old man from this past connection.
Wickham watched as Georgiana was introduced at the Assembly. At first, she kept to her circle of friends, but as soon as the musicians began tuning, the gentlemen began pairing off with the ladies. He knew he would not be the first to obtain her hand, but was surprised it was Mr. Bingley who led her to the dancefloor. He thought the bridegroom would lead his bride-to-be for the first set, but Mr. Bingley was content to not dance exclusively with Jane Bennet, and escorted his friend's sister.
Wickham asked one young lady simply as a ruse, as she had been standing near him, and they could form a pair in Georgiana's set so as soon as the dance ended, he c
ould spring upon Georgiana to ask for the second set. He discovered, however, that Mr. Denny had already engaged her, but she was more than willing to agree to the third set for Wickham.
"You are a goddess reborn," he said to her as they took their places together, and she blushed like any sixteen year old did at that well-used line. "You will certainly be as beautiful—more beautiful—than your mother." She looked down at her toes and back up, but he watched as she brought her hand up to her mouth and bit at the tips of her gloves only to bring them away again hastily. He thought how very young she really was. She was almost half his age; he preferred more experienced women, but Georgiana Darcy was worth thirty thousand pounds. She was worth his time—he kept telling himself that fact.
They danced for many minutes in silence. He could tell that she was excited, but confused and had a certain nervousness at being at the dance. He recalled that she had been a mixture of nerves and arrogance when she was younger; she had the Darcy pride, but could come over all shy, once a game was done. He wondered how much had been simply being a child, how much had been about being a girl, and how much had been part of her character. But the shyness suddenly gave way and the eyes which had never left him said,
"Tell me more about my mother."
So he invented an entire history about Mrs. Darcy that he thought she would want to hear. The Darcy pride had not been a thing handed down through the Darcy line, but rather instilled by the mother—the daughter of an Earl—it was Lady Anne who had instilled pride in her children. He saw some of that in Georgiana's eyes, though she also looked at his with devotion and admiration. That was something Lady Anne had not done. Lady Anne certainly had never thought well of George Wickham, and had often resented the attentions to him by her husband, George Darcy, and the way he had fostered Wickham. There had probably been resentment because they had shared the same Christian name. Lady Anne had insisted that her son have her surname as his given name, rather than being named for his father as had been the Darcy custom.