Chapter 16

N ormally Elizabeth did not anticipate a card party, or anything else, at her gossipy and rather silly aunt's home. She did enjoy discussions with Uncle Frank as he was an intelligent and well-read man. In addition, he was able to stretch her abilities across the chess board.

This evening was different. Elizabeth very much wanted to see Lieutenant Wickham and hoped he would relate the substance of his disagreement with Mr Darcy to her. She was sure whatever the issue between them was, it would reinforce her sketch of the insufferable man's character. Before Mr Wickham said one word to her, in her mind he was an ally, one who like her had been wronged by Mr Darcy.

Much to Elizabeth's joy, the officers were present when the Bennets arrived. Papa, unsurprisingly, remained at home with his latest book. On looking about the room—the walls between the dining parlour and sitting room had been pushed aside to make one large space—it did not take her long to spot the lieutenant she was seeking, recognising him by his height, build, and light brown hair. Now that he was without a hat on his head, she could see that his hair was straight and flopped onto one side of his head at a rather rakish angle.

As would be expected, Kitty and Lydia made a beeline for the officers, especially Lieutenant Wickham. At the same time, Mary and Mr Collins were greeting their hostess.

"What a sweet room, Mrs Phillips," Collins stated as he bowed for the second time. "I could have almost supposed myself in the small summer breakfast parlour at Rosings Park." He was oblivious of the fact his attempt at a compliment had been taken as an insult by the lady of the house.

"Aunt Hattie, Mr Collins means that as a compliment as according to him, there is no house in the realm which can compete with his patroness's mansion for grandeur and elegance," Mary soothed her aunt's hurt feelings.

"Cousin Mary is correct, and is commended at showing such deference to her Ladyship and her magnificent mansion. You cannot but imagine the grandeur of Lady Catherine's home. Through her wise suggestions my own humble abode is being made grander than it was. Many improvements are being undertaken which demonstrate Lady Catherine's wisdom. For instance, at her suggestion I have placed shelves in all of the closets."

Hattie listened in wonder to Mr Collins's verbose descriptions of the manor house at Rosings Park. With the reverence he demonstrated towards it, his hostess could not but feel the compliment of his comparing any part of her abode to the grand estate's mansion.

As Mary listened to the man who seemed to worship his patroness above even God, she began to doubt she would ever make a match with such a man. She may not be as stubborn or opinionated as her next older sister, but from what she could tell she could not imagine living in a home where she had to defer in everything to her cousin's interfering, officious, and by the sounds of things, more often wrong in her advice than correct, patroness. As soon as Mr Collins sat at one of the whist tables, Mary took herself to the other side of the room.

While grasping his arm for all she was worth, Lydia entreated Mr Wickham to join the game of lottery tickets she was about to play as there were two openings at the table.

"Please pardon me Miss Lydia," Wickham responded as he gave her a half bow, "but I do not intend to play at lottery tickets or any other card game this evening. "

Lydia pouted as she watched the handsome lieutenant walk towards where Lizzy was seated. Mama had told her how she was the liveliest of the Bennet sisters, and she was the best at flirting, so how was it Mr Wickham seemed to desire to spend time with Elizabeth and not her? She was most put out by that fact, and in frustration, stamped her foot under the table.

"Do you object if I seat myself on the settee with you Miss Elizabeth?" Wickham gave her one of his best smiles as he bowed before the raven haired woman.

"I have no objection to your sitting here," Elizabeth averred.

For the first few minutes they spoke about Meryton and her family. The truth was she chiefly wished to hear about the history of his acquaintance with Mr Darcy. Elizabeth dared not even mention the hated man's name. Luckily, she did not need to do so, as her partner on the settee brought up the subject without her prompting.

"How far is Netherfield Park from Meryton?" Wickham enquired.

"It is about two miles," Elizabeth replied.

"How long has…Mr Darcy been residing there?"

"A few weeks, which is too long already! I understand he has a large estate in Derbyshire."

‘ Better and better, ' Wickham thought. ‘ I will hardly have to try for her to carry my story around this county so Darcy will be run out of it soon enough. ' Aloud he responded, "Yes, his estate there is a great one. It brings in a clear ten thousand per annum. You could not have met with a person more capable of giving you certain information on that head than myself, for I have been connected with his family in a particular manner from my infancy."

From their introduction, Elizabeth knew Mr Wickham was from the same county as Mr Darcy, but she was greatly surprised regarding his last assertion.

"You may well be surprised, Miss Elizabeth, at such a statement after seeing, as you probably did, the very unfriendly manner of our meeting earlier today. Are you much acquainted with Mr Darcy?"

"More than I ever wish to be," cried Elizabeth emphatically. "I have spent some days in the same house with him, and I think him very disagreeable."

"I have no right to give my opinion," said Wickham, "as to his being agreeable or otherwise. I am not qualified to form one. I have known him too long and too well to be a fair judge. It is impossible for me to be impartial. But I believe your opinion of him would in general astonish—and perhaps you would not express it quite so strongly anywhere else, except here among your own family."

"Upon my word, I say no more here than I might say in any house in the neighbourhood, except for Netherfield Park. He is not at all liked in Hertfordshire. Everybody is disgusted with his pride. You will not find him more favourably spoken of by anyone."

‘ Good! She will spread anything I tell her about the prig, and she is more than willing to hear me, so she will not question anything, ' Wickham thought happily. Aloud he continued, "I cannot pretend to be sorry." Wickham made like he was cogitating. Inwardly he celebrated. He was well aware his erstwhile friend was shy and at times would give offence without intending to do so, as it seemed he had done here. "That he, or that any man, should not be estimated in a bad light; but with him I believe it does not often happen. The world is blinded by his fortune and consequence, or frightened by his high and imposing manners, and see him only as he chooses to be seen."

"I should take him, even on my slight acquaintance, to be an ill-tempered man. "

Wickham shook his head. "I wonder whether he is likely to be in this country much longer."

"I do not at all know; but I heard nothing of his going away when I was at Netherfield Park. I hope your plans in favour of the Derbyshire Militia will not be affected by his being in the neighbourhood."

"Oh no! It is not for me to be driven away by Mr Darcy. If he wishes to avoid seeing me , he must go. We are not on friendly terms, and it always gives me pain to meet him, but I have no reason for avoiding him ! I can proclaim before all the world, a sense of very great ill-usage, and most painful regrets at his being what he is. His father, Miss Bennet, the late Mr Darcy, was one of the best men that ever breathed, and the truest friend I ever had; and I can never be in company with this Mr Darcy without being grieved to the soul by a thousand tender recollections. His behaviour to myself has been scandalous; but I verily believe I could forgive him anything and everything, rather than his disappointing the hopes and disgracing the memory of his father."

Elizabeth could well believe Mr Darcy had committed offences against this man. She listened with all her heart; but the delicacy of it prevented further inquiry.

"The society around Meryton has been most welcoming to the militia in general and myself in particular." Wickham appeared highly pleased with all he had yet seen, speaking of the area with gentle, but very obvious gallantry. Elizabeth could not but compare the way Mr Darcy had looked on her and her neighbours with disgust, juxtaposed to the way Mr Wickham viewed them.

"It was the prospect of constant society, and good society," he added, "which was my chief inducement to take a commission in this regiment of the Derbyshire Militia. I knew it to be a most respectable, agreeable corps, and my friend Denny tempted me further by his account of their former quarters, which were in Westingham, Northamptonshire, and the very great attentions and the welcome they received there, which was almost as warm as here in Meryton.

"Society, I own, is necessary to me. I have been a disappointed man, and my spirits will not bear solitude. I must have employment and society. A military life is not what I was intended for, but circumstances have now made it eligible. The church ought to have been my profession—I was brought up for the church, and I should at this time have been in possession of a most valuable living, had it pleased the gentleman we were speaking of just now."

"Indeed!" Elizabeth exclaimed.

"Yes—the late Mr Darcy bequeathed me the next presentation of the best living of the three advowsons he had to gift. He was my godfather, and excessively attached to me. I cannot do justice to his kindness. He meant to provide for me amply, and thought he had done it; but when the living fell open, it was given elsewhere."

"Good heavens!" cried Elizabeth. "How could that be? How could his will be disregarded? Why did you not seek legal redress? I can refer you to my Uncle Phillips who is an excellent solicitor." Elizabeth did not note the flash of fear which passed over Mr Wickham's face, before he schooled his features and responded.

"There was just such an informality in the terms of the bequest as to give me no hope from the law." Elizabeth either did not note it, or ignored the contradiction as the man had called it a bequest. "A man of honour could not have doubted the intention, but Mr Darcy chose to doubt it—or to treat it as a merely conditional recommendation, and to assert I had forfeited all claim to it by extravagance, imprudence—in short anything or nothing. Certain it is, the living became vacant two years ago, exactly as I was of an age to hold it, that it was given to another man. No less certain is it that I cannot accuse myself of having really done anything to deserve to lose it. I have a warm, unguarded temper, and I may have spoken my opinion of him, and to him, too freely. I can recall nothing worse. But the fact is, we are very different sort of men, and that he hates me."

"This is quite shocking! He deserves to be publicly disgraced."

"Some time or other he will be—but it shall not be by me . I cannot dishonour the memory of his father by exposing him ."

Elizabeth honoured him for such feelings, and thought him handsomer than ever as he expressed them. Never did she question the fact he was doing precisely what he swore he would never do. She paused to consider the lieutenant's words. "But what can have been his motive? What can have induced him to behave so cruelly?"

"A thorough, determined dislike of me! A dislike which I cannot but attribute in some measure to jealousy. Had the late Mr Darcy liked me less, his son might have borne with me better. His father's uncommon attachment to me irritated him, I believe, very early in life. He had not a temper to bear the sort of competition in which we stood—the sort of preference which was often given me."

"I had not considered Mr Darcy so bad as this—though I have never liked him. I had not thought him to be so evil and dishonourable. I had supposed him to be despising his fellow-creatures in general, but did not suspect him of descending to such malicious revenge, such injustice, such inhumanity as this." Elizabeth paused. "Now that I think on this, I do remember his boasting one day, at Netherfield Park, of the implacability of his resentments, of his having an unforgiving temper. His disposition must be dreadful." While she said the last, the voice of her conscience screamed: ‘ That is what you do as well! ' but she ignored it.

"I will not trust myself on the subject," averred Wickham. "I can hardly be just to him. "

Elizabeth was again deep in thought, and after a time exclaimed, "To treat in such a manner the godson, the friend, the favourite of his father!" She thought, ‘ A young man, too, like you, whose very countenance may vouch for your being amiable and honest. ' Rather she added, "Also, one too who had probably been his companion from childhood, connected together, as I think you said, in the closest manner!"

"We were born in the same parish, within the same park. The greatest part of our youth was passed together—inmates of the same house, sharing the same amusements, objects of the same parental care. My father began life in the profession in which your uncle, Mr Phillips, appears to do so much credit. He gave up the practise of law to be of use to the late Mr Darcy and devoted all his time to the care of the Pemberley estate. He was most highly esteemed by Mr Darcy, a most intimate, confidential friend. Mr Darcy often acknowledged himself to be under the greatest obligations to my father's active superintendence, and when, immediately before my father's death, Mr Darcy gave him a voluntary promise of providing for me, I am convinced he felt it to be as much a debt of gratitude to him , as of his affection to myself."

"How abominable! I wonder that the very pride of this Mr Darcy has not made him unjust to you! If from no better motive, that he should not have been too proud to be dishonest—for dishonesty I must call it."

"You have the right of it," responded Wickham. "For almost all his actions may be traced to pride, and pride has often been his best friend. It has connected him nearer with virtue than with any other feeling. But we are none of us consistent, and in his behaviour to me there were stronger impulses even than pride."

"Can such repugnant, improper pride as his have ever done him good?"

"Yes. It has often led him to be liberal and generous, to give his money freely, to display hospitality, to assist his tenants, and relieve the poor. Family pride, and filial pride—for he is very proud of what his father was—have done this. Not to appear to disgrace his family, to degenerate from the popular qualities, or lose the influence of the Darcy name, is a powerful motive. He has also brotherly pride, which, with some brotherly affection, makes him a very kind and careful guardian of his sister, and you will hear him generally cried up as the most attentive and best of brothers."

Although she knew that much of what Mr Wickham ascribed to pride, were actually virtues, Elizabeth chose to ignore that inconvenient fact. "What sort of girl is Miss Darcy?"

He shook his head. "I wish I could call her amiable. It gives me pain to speak ill of a Darcy. She is too much like her brother though—very, very proud and disagreeable. As a child, she was affectionate and pleasing, and extremely fond of me; and I have devoted hours and hours to her amusement. But she is nothing to me now. She is a handsome girl, about fifteen or sixteen, and I understand highly accomplished. Since her father's death, her home has been London, where a lady lives with her, and superintends her education."

"I am astonished at his intimacy with Mr Bingley! How can Mr Bingley, who seems good humour itself, and is, I really believe, truly amiable, be in friendship with such a man? How can they suit each other? Do you know Mr Bingley?"

"Not at all," averred Wickham.

"He is a sweet-tempered, amiable, charming man, who has been unofficially courting my eldest sister." Elizabeth smiled and looked at where Jane was sitting as she mentioned her. She turned back to the handsome man. "Mr Bingley cannot know what Mr Darcy is."

"Probably not; but Mr Darcy can please where he chooses. He does not want for abilities. He can be a conversable companion if he thinks it worth his while. Among those who are his equals, or betters, in rank, he is a very different man from what he is to those below his circle. His pride never deserts him, but with members of the first circles he is liberal-minded, just, sincere, rational, honourable, and perhaps agreeable—allowing something for fortune and figure."

Feeling so much outrage at the ills Mr Darcy had visited on the head of the poor officer, Elizabeth completely missed what Mr Wickham said about rank. Mr Bingley was wealthy to be sure, but the son of a tradesman.

"Earlier, when we first met, you mentioned that you once knew Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Is she as much of a termagant as I suspect her to be?" Elizabeth changed the subject.

"She is. She is also Darcy's aunt, his late mother's older sister. She has one ill-tempered, homely, and sickly daughter who is the future Mrs Darcy," Wickham grinned.

"In that case, they deserve each other," Elizabeth smiled.

The card party began breaking up, so Wickham stood and bowed over Elizabeth's hand causing her to blush. Soon he and his fellow officers took their leave. Elizabeth realised she had not been in company with Jane or Charlotte at all, but she could not repine how she had spent her visit to her aunt's, as she had learnt much to reinforce her bad opinion of the dastardly Mr Darcy.

Being the last guests present, the Bennets prepared to take their leave. Mr Collins took his station between his cousin Mary and Mrs Phillips. The latter enquired as to his success in cards. It had not been good; he had not won a single point. When the hostess expressed her regret he had lost, Collins assured her with much earnest gravity and pomposity it was not of the least importance, as the sum of money was a mere trifle, and begged she would not make herself uneasy.

Her cousin's performance that night was the final straw which decided Mary against him.