The Road to Pemberley

by Marsha Altman

  Lizzy agreed, but added, “Wickham made particular mention that the letter had equal import for Georgiana. At first, I refused to accept the letter, but upon reconsideration, I felt you might want to ascertain whether Georgiana required protection in this matter.”

  Darcy acknowledged the implications of the situation, grateful for his wife’s concern for Georgiana. He reluctantly broke the seal and began reading aloud:

  Mr. Darcy,

  My regard for family duty compels me to address you in this letter. As I grow older, I have increasingly come to value good family relations above all. Although I have much to regret about our mutual past, I realize that simple apology, no matter how sincere, would be woefully inadequate to redress the wrongs I have committed. It is my sincere hope, however, that you share my belief that it is never too late for family to replace discord with harmony.

  Your excellent father, in the fair and generous manner with which he treated his entire household staff, made all who depended upon him feel like family. That he would deign to become godfather to me speaks to the close relationship that existed between our late fathers. For that intimacy, I shall be forever grateful.

  I have come to realize that you, sir, have the same qualities of fairness and generosity that the late Mr. Darcy had. But it is not generosity toward myself that I now seek; rather, it is for an unknown member of your family. Let me state the matter plainly.

  I have in my possession strong evidence that your late father sired a son outside the marriage bond. Although such news will most likely precipitate disbelief and distress, my source of information is trustworthy. My sole reason for bringing this information to your attention is this: were the circumstances reversed and I had a lost half brother, I certainly would want to know. I expect that you share my sentiments.

  I have spoken to no other about this, as such disclosure would be your rightful prerogative alone. I hope that you can now appreciate the pains I have taken to convey this information to you confidentially.

  If you would consent to meet with me, this evening or the next, at the Lambton Inn, I will gladly show you the documentation that I possess.

  Respectfully,

  George Wickham

  “How perfectly outrageous!” cried Elizabeth. “I did not think him this cold and calculating, to hide behind praise of family and your father’s good name while simultaneously threatening to bring shame to his memory.”

  “Eternal hell is too cold a residence for that bastard,” Darcy muttered as he began to reread the letter.

  When he finished, he spoke somberly: “I am certain that Wickham intends to share this document with the world, but he will share it first with Georgiana, driven as he claims to be by strong familial considerations. That is, of course, unless I intercede with sufficient incentive to convince him to forget the matter.”

  “Blackmail, Darcy? Wickham has proved himself to be reckless and dishonest, but never did I imagine him capable of such malice and ingratitude as this!”

  “It appears that I, too, have underestimated him.”

  “You give no credence, though, to his tale about your father having an illegitimate son?”

  “It sounds improbable,” replied Darcy thoughtfully. “By all appearances, my parents were devoted solely to each other. Yet if there had been such a child, my father certainly could have had reasons for wanting to maintain secrecy.”

  “What sort of document could Wickham possess?”

  “A birth certificate perhaps.”

  “It would be an extremely good forgery, then, for he seems extraordinarily confident of his scheme. Wickham is no fool; surely, he must know the consequences of trifling with you, Darcy.”

  “Yes, that is what concerns me most. Why would Wickham put himself at such great risk—why would he confront his estranged brother-in-law—if his allegations were unfounded? No, he must be certain of the authenticity of his claims, and he plans to enrich himself accordingly.”

  Lizzy pondered the consequences. “Why should we have to make any response to Wickham at all, Darcy? We both know him too well; this must be some sort of trick. We are under no obligation to investigate his wild claims; we can, in good conscience, denounce them as false. Even if he were to make the matter public, you could censure him and disgrace him. Society knows what sort of fellow he is; and Georgiana certainly would disbelieve such a story.”

  Darcy pondered the matter for a few moments, finally speaking in resignation. “Wickham knows me too well. He is right. If there were the slightest chance that I had a half brother, I would want to know.”

  “You are determined to meet Wickham?”

  “I see no other resolution. I shall procure the documentation and have it validated. If it is true, I shall find our new brother; if false, I shall have the scoundrel cast in chains.”

  “Will you go this evening, then?”

  “Yes, directly after supper,” answered Darcy. “It is best not to permit boils such as this to fester.”

  Chapter 4—The Meeting

  Darcy rode his horse to Lambton at a deliberate pace, for he was by no means eager to meet the man who had proven to be such a constant thorn in his side. Darcy recited the tableau of troubles to himself: Wickham’s dissipation at school, his attempted seduction of Georgiana when she was still very young, his lies to Elizabeth during Wickham’s Meryton encampment, and his scandalous desertion of the army and elopement with Lydia.

  The constant swirl of rumors concerning Wickham’s gambling had also reached Darcy’s ear. Unhappily, Wickham’s professed regard for family, so lately acquired, had little practical application as far as his wife and children were concerned. Having long ago grown tired of playing benefactor, Darcy briefly entertained the small hope that Wickham’s skill and luck with cards had somehow improved sufficiently to prevent his family’s ruin; but he knew such a wish to be hollow. His brother-in-law had evidently sunk to such a desperate state that slander and blackmail were no longer beneath him. Darcy, agitated by anger and despair, nearly abandoned his mission, but his duty to family gave him the strength to press onward. He resolved to maintain his composure and conclude the sordid business as quickly as possible.

  When Darcy arrived at the inn, the transition from brilliant evening sky to dim candlelight momentarily blinded him. Eventually, he discerned Wickham in the corner, befriending a nearly empty bottle of wine. On the vacant side of the small table stood a second glass of ruby port, which he had confidently poured for Darcy hours earlier. Darcy calmly walked to the table and stood before him without greeting. Wickham rose quickly and extended his hand, but his guest ignored it, so he simply reemployed it in gesture, motioning for Darcy to be seated and enjoy the glass of wine.

  “I am glad that you have come, Mr. Darcy. It has been too long since our paths have crossed.”

  “A few more decades of separation could have been easily tolerated on my side, I assure you,” responded Darcy. “Despite your dreams of family unity, this is not a social call, is it?”

  Wickham was at a loss for an adequate response. Darcy continued, “Your letter mentioned that my father had two sons; I have come to inspect your proof for such an incredible assertion.”

  “Always to the point, aye, Mr. Darcy? No time for inquiries about health or happiness? Well, I trust there will be plenty of time for that after you accept the truth of my information.”

  Wickham reached into his waistcoat and produced a single sheet of paper. Darcy read the brief document aloud: Sylvester Glennie

  Baptized October 20, 1784

  St. James parish, Clerkenwell, London

  Mother: Ellen Glennie

  Father: a gentleman

  Robert Jegon, curate

  “What?” shouted Darcy. “You consider this proof? This proves nothing!”

  The outburst attracted the attention of the entire room. The pair remained silent until the ambient noise resumed. Darcy then spoke moderately but not less forcefully. “Wickham, you astonish me. I had expected
a more artful attempt than this! This is merely the transcription of a baptismal record; and the name of the boy’s father is completely absent. How can you maintain any hope of laying this at my father’s door?”

  Wickham, not intimidated, waited in silence for Darcy’s storm of emotion to dissipate. Darcy began to suspect that the surprising weakness of the document might, perversely, be a point in favor of Wickham’s case.

  Wickham began, “There is much more to the story. Would you like to hear it?”

  “By all means. I have not been entertained by a good fairy tale since early childhood.”

  “Well,” continued Wickham, “you will notice that this document contains some unusual features. In the first place, the lack of the father’s name indicates that the child is illegitimate. As a rule, the names of such children are not recorded in the parish register.”

  “Too obvious for words and signifies nothing; you must improvise better than that.”

  “Second, the mother’s full name is listed in place of the father’s name. You must know that the parish custom is to list the father’s full name, whereas only the first name of the mother is stated, and then only below the father’s name.”

  “Yes,” conceded Darcy, “that is unusual. What else?”

  “Consider next the character of the gentleman. Most gentlemen who sire children out of wedlock take pains to separate themselves from the scandal. They would banish the child to an orphanage and pay handsomely to make the mother disappear rather than come forward and do right by mother and child. According to the document before us, this gentleman is worthy of the name. Evidently, he wished the world to know that the child entered the world as the son of a gentleman, and so enjoyed some advantage and protection. So concerned was he for the child’s soul that he did not abandon mother and child, but persuaded the priest to administer the sacrament of baptism. It would seem probable that such a gentleman would provide financial assistance for the care of both mother and child. Your father was a gentleman of such caliber.”

  “Yes, such actions would not be out of character for my father, but conjectures are a far cry from proof! You invent an interesting story, Mr. Wickham, but important additional links are required. Who is the mother, for instance? What do you know of Ellen Glennie?”

  “I know a little about her, but not where she is, or even if she is still living. She is of Scottish descent, of course, but she did not always use the name Glennie. She was a popular dancer on the London stage several decades ago, and she danced under the name Holly Doolittle. Have you never heard your father mention that name?”

  “No, I have not. So you would have me believe that my father’s love of theater gave him the incentive, and his frequent solo trips to London gave him the opportunity, to woo dancers and sire children while his devoted wife waited at home? This tale grows more fanciful by the minute. Pray continue!”

  “That is precisely what I am intimating, and it would remain mere speculation had I not more information.” Wickham reached once more into his waistcoat pocket and handed over a card.

  “What’s this?” asked Darcy. He read the card: Hugh Slithy and Henry Bandersnatch, Solicitors

  Charing Cross Road at Oxford Street

  Darcy grew concerned. “Should these names have some meaning for me?”

  “They will,” promised Wickham. “Shortly after the birth of Sylvester Glennie, your father transacted business with Slithy and Bandersnatch that involved the parents and child. You may wish to search the legal records of your late father to confirm that such a transaction took place shortly after the child was born.”

  “May I inquire how all this intelligence happened to come your way?” snapped Darcy.

  “In due time, I shall be happy to answer, but it is impossible for me to do so now.”

  “Impossible? Why would you think that? Do you fear I would believe you any less now than I would in the future?”

  “No, but to trust me further, you must first be convinced of the truth of what I have just laid before you.”

  Darcy frowned. “Have you met this Sylvester Glennie and know his character and whereabouts?”

  “Yes.”

  “It is a great sadness, then, that you did not bring him here. I should very much like to meet my imaginary half brother.”

  “As you have indicated, Mr. Darcy, to have done so would have been pointless. You would have dismissed and humiliated him. No, it is best that you first convince yourself of the facts.”

  “Very well, assuming again the truth of the matter, what sort of man is my half brother? Does he in any way resemble my father?”

  “It is indeed regrettable that I must defer all such questions. You have the name of the parish and the solicitors. From those sources, you should have no difficulty obtaining answers to all your questions and doubts.”

  “We finally come to the sticking point, Mr. Wickham. I do not understand the motive for your role in this whole business. What do you seek to gain for all your troubles?”

  Wickham smiled insouciantly. “I thought my letter gave sufficient reason for my coming forward. You would have done no less in similar circumstances.”

  “You would have no objection to my refusing to offer compensation of any kind?”

  “I expect nothing, sir. But if you were to reimburse my expenses for collecting this information, no one could think that unfair.”

  “Expenses only? And how much would that total be?”

  “A mere fifty pounds.”

  “Only fifty? That is surprising! Should I expect this to be an installment for additional expenses down the road?”

  “That hardly appears likely, Mr. Darcy, as I have given you all the information I have. It is you who will be performing the investigation from this point forward.”

  “No, Mr. Wickham, I do not believe you have given me all the information you possess. You have disclosed neither your sources nor the location of the elusive Sylvester Glennie. Presumably, that would entail considerable inconvenience and expense at some later date? How large a reimbursable item would that be, do you reckon?”

  “I have included everything in the fifty pounds, Mr. Darcy. I will make no additional claims.”

  “What? Not a shilling more? Am I guaranteed that such an amount will result in your eternal contentment?”

  “I can understand your reluctance to take my word at face value, Mr. Darcy, but that is all I shall ever ask. Naturally, when the happy day arrives and you are finally reunited with your half brother, should you, in your generosity, wish to offer further reward, I would not be so ungracious as to decline.”

  Darcy rose. “At last, we come to a complete understanding, Mr. Wickham. Perhaps you mean to get revenge on me by sending me off on this idle chase. But I warn you most earnestly: if there is no basis to what you have told me, I swear on the sacred graves of my parents that I shall have you yanked before the magistrate on charges of malicious slander, and you shall languish in prison until you rot.”

  Without waiting for a reply, Darcy withdrew five 10-pound notes and slammed them on the table.

  “You can expect a letter as soon as I have completed my investigation,” promised Darcy. He then turned and walked briskly out the door.

  Chapter 5—Revelation

  By the time Darcy returned to Pemberley, the sun had already marched over the distant hills, dragging behind it a blanket of darkness that covered the sleepy countryside. Little of nature’s tranquility reached inside Pemberley—Wickham’s sudden appearance and puzzling behavior had made Elizabeth uncharacteristically restless. After the children were put to bed, she sought escape by replaying chess games from the previous year’s tournament.

  She looked up at the sound of Darcy’s footsteps. Elizabeth could sense from his tense demeanor that the meeting had not gone well. She went to the sideboard and poured two glasses of brandy.

  “Here, William. You must be in need of some warmth and relaxation.” They sipped at the brandy and then seated themselves
in front of the fire. “Am I to understand that the meeting with Wickham was as unpleasant as we had feared?”

  Darcy drank a second, more generous portion of brandy and stared at the dancing flames. “You have it right,” he replied at length. “The meeting was one continuous vexation. Wickham was a study in evasiveness.”

  There followed a retelling of the evening’s conversation and the nature of Wickham’s proofs: the vaguely worded baptismal transcription and the solicitors’ card.

  “He produced a baptismal record that did not even list the name of the father? Is this the intricate trap he has prepared for us? What bald gibberish! You surely cannot believe a word of what he said?”

  “During our meeting, I certainly did not. His ingratiating manner and insinuations kept me in a state of perpetual agitation and resentment; but as I traveled homeward, I was able to calm myself and ponder the matter disinterestedly. Wickham knows far more about this affair than he lets on. I believe that he speaks some component of the truth, and I am determined to discover precisely what it is.”

  “The solicitors that Wickham mentioned, Slithy and Bandersnatch, they were not your father’s usual counsel?” asked Elizabeth.

  “No, they were not, which at least should make it simple to validate that part of his story. Wickham suggested that I might find among my father’s papers some record of transaction with that firm. But the hour is late and I am much too exhausted to begin now. I shall begin my search promptly in the morning.”

  The Darcys had another round of brandy before retiring for the evening. After a fitful start, a sound sleep finally overtook both of them.

  Just after dawn, Elizabeth was awakened as her daughter ran, laughing, into the room and jumped into bed beside her. Jenny’s nurse, hobbled by gout and unable to keep up with the two-year-old, soon limped into the room, apologizing for the disturbance; but the mother reassured her that nothing could be more pleasant than to be left alone with her daughter. Elizabeth and Jenny snuggled deeply into the bed and pulled the covers over them.