5. Chapter Five

The autumn sun cast warm, dappled light on the quaint streets of Meryton as Elizabeth Bennet walked with her sisters Jane and Mary, accompanied by their cousin Mr. Collins. The air was crisp, the leaves crunching beneath their feet as they strolled, the conversation between the sisters flowing with ease while Mr. Collins spoke at length about the many virtues of his esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

"Ah, my dear nieces," Mrs. Phillips exclaimed, suddenly appearing before them with a mischievous glint in her eyes. She took Elizabeth's arm with an excited grip. "I must acquaint you with a most charming young gentleman newly arrived in town."

"Indeed, aunt?" Elizabeth replied, raising an eyebrow and exchanging a quick glance with Jane. They had grown accustomed to their aunt's penchant for introducing them to any vaguely eligible bachelor who crossed her path.

"Indeed! Allow me to present Lieutenant Wickham," Mrs. Phillips continued, beckoning the newcomer forward.

As Wickham approached, Elizabeth noted his handsome countenance and the confidence with which he carried himself. He bowed gracefully to the sisters, his dark eyes twinkling with warmth.

"Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, Miss Mary, I have heard much of your family and am pleased to finally meet you," he said in a smooth, melodic voice.

"Thank you, sir," Jane replied, a blush gracing her cheeks, while Mary offered a shy smile.

Mr. Collins, momentarily silenced by the arrival of such an imposing and personable gentleman, cleared his throat and extended his hand. "And I am Mr. Collins, their cousin and humble servant."

"Ah, Mr. Collins," Wickham replied, shaking his hand firmly. "It is a pleasure to meet you as well."

As they continued their walk through the streets, Elizabeth observed Wickham's easy manners and lively conversation. What little she knew of militia officers did not give her much hope for any deeper connection, but she could not deny the pleasure of his company, or that he had a truly handsome face and noble bearing.

"Come now, Miss Elizabeth," Wickham said, teasingly, as they discussed a recent novel. "Surely you cannot be so merciless in your judgement of the heroine's folly?"

"Perhaps I am too harsh," she conceded with a laugh, "but only because I recognise some of her faults in myself."

"Ah, but self-awareness is the first step towards improvement," he replied, a sparkle in his eyes. "And I must say, it is a rare quality among the fairer sex."

"Indeed, sir," Elizabeth retorted playfully, "and might I add that it is an even rarer quality among gentlemen?"

Wickham laughed heartily, clearly enjoying their spirited exchange. "Your sister Jane, she is truly a vision," Wickham remarked, casting a glance towards Jane who was engaged in conversation with Collins. "I must confess, I have seldom seen such beauty."

"Indeed," Elizabeth agreed. "Jane's beauty is matched only by her kindness and grace."

"Ah, but it is not only Miss Bennet who possesses such qualities," Wickham said, turning his gaze back to Elizabeth.

She felt a slight blush rise to her cheeks, unaccustomed as she was to such direct compliments. Though she appreciated his praise, she could not help but feel a pang of regret at the knowledge that a militia officer's income would likely prove insufficient to support the life of a gentleman's wife. She knew she ought not to entertain thoughts of matrimony with a man she had only just met, but there was something about Wickham's presence that made it difficult to quell such notions entirely.

"Thank you, sir," she replied, attempting to keep her tone light and unaffected. "It is fortunate, then, that my sisters and I are blessed with different strengths, for it would be most tiresome if we were all alike."

"Indeed," Wickham agreed, chuckling softly. "Variety is the very spice of life, as they say. And yet, I cannot help but think that your family has been blessed with an abundance of beauty and talent."

"Your flattery is most kind, Lieutenant Wickham," Elizabeth replied, a teasing smile playing at the corners of her lips. "But I must warn you, excessive praise will not endear you to my father; he values humility above all else in his daughters."

"Then rest assured, Miss Elizabeth, that my admiration is sincere, and not intended to pander to any vanity," Wickham said earnestly, his gaze locked on hers. "I believe it is important to acknowledge and appreciate the virtues of others, particularly when they are so clearly evident."

As they continued their walk, Elizabeth glanced up from her conversation with Lieutenant Wickham to find Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley approaching. Her pulse quickened at the sight of Darcy's tall figure, and she observed his expression change as he caught sight of Wickham. Mr. Darcy turned first pale, then red, and the shock and disquiet that flickered across his features were not lost on Elizabeth. Was Mr. Darcy somehow acquainted with Mr. Wickham, then? She speculated that perhaps they knew each other from some previous encounter – but what could have transpired between them to cause such a reaction in Mr. Darcy?

"Miss Bennet!" called Mr. Bingley, his cheerful countenance a welcome contrast to Darcy's brooding visage. "What a pleasant surprise to find you here. May I accompany you on your walk?" His tone conveyed an unmistakable sense of urgency as he glanced at Wickham, and Elizabeth suspected it was born of his desire to separate Jane from the handsome militia officer.

"Of course, Mr. Bingley," Jane replied, her cheeks suffused with a delicate blush as she accepted his proffered arm, her already happy smile widening further.

"Wickham," Darcy said stiffly, not even bothering to incline his head in greeting.

"Mr. Darcy. Fancy seeing you here." A smirk crossed Wickham's face, rendering him a good deal less handsome in Elizabeth's eyes.

Darcy's jaw clenched, but he he didn't say another word. Just stared at Wickham until the other man's smirk faded and he dropped his gaze.

"If you'll excuse me, Miss Elizabeth." Wickham turned to her and offered his charming smile. "I must get to my duties. Until we meet again."

Elizabeth watched him go, pondering the enigma of his connection to Mr. Darcy.

"Miss Elizabeth," Darcy said softly, startling her from her reverie. He offered her his arm, his face betraying none of the conflicting emotions that raged within him. "Might I have the pleasure of accompanying you?" He nodded towards where Jane and Mr. Bingley were proceeding up the street, Mary and Mr. Collins following after them.

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth replied hesitantly, placing her hand upon his arm. Her gaze lingered for a moment on the retreating form of Wickham before turning back to meet Darcy's eyes.

Inwardly, Darcy steeled himself against the barrage of questions he knew Elizabeth must be longing to ask.

"Your sister and Mr. Bingley appear to be enjoying their walk," Darcy remarked, hoping to divert her attention from the subject of Wickham. "And it seems Mr. Collins is quite taken with Miss Mary."

"Indeed," Elizabeth murmured, glancing ahead to where Jane and Bingley walked arm in arm, their conversation flowing easily. Behind them, Mary and Mr. Collins engaged in a more solemn discourse, the latter no doubt expounding at length upon some moral or religious topic.

"Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth began, her tone tentative, "I could not help but notice your reaction upon seeing Lieutenant Wickham. You appeared... troubled."

Darcy's jaw tightened. "I was merely surprised to see him in Meryton, Miss Bennet," he replied, his voice carefully controlled. "We have been acquainted since we were children; Mr. Wickham's father was a most excellent man, steward to my own late father. However, I had not expected our paths to cross here."

"Ah, I see," Elizabeth said thoughtfully, her eyes searching his face for any hint of the truth that lay behind his words. "I trust your surprise was not an unpleasant one, Mr. Darcy?"

"I confess I rarely find surprises to be pleasant, Miss Bennet," he replied, avoiding a direct answer. "But I have learned over the years that life has a way of confounding our expectations."

"Indeed, it does," she agreed.

Darcy half expected Elizabeth to question him further, but she did not speak, walking onward calmly with a peaceful expression on her lovely face. Darcy found himself struggling with an internal turmoil. While he desperately wished to rid Elizabeth and her sisters of Wickham's poisonous presence, he knew that divulging the full extent of the man's misdeeds could expose his beloved sister Georgiana to public disgrace.

"Miss Elizabeth," he began hesitantly, offering only a fraction of the truth in hopes that it would suffice. "I feel it is my duty to inform you that Mr. Wickham's character is not as it appears. Though I hesitate to speak ill of anyone, I fear for your family's wellbeing if I remain silent."

Elizabeth looked at him with an inquisitive expression, prompting Darcy to continue. "Wickham is the son of Pemberley's former steward, a most excellent man, greatly valued by my own esteemed father. George Wickham and I grew up together, but unfortunately, his nature proved… wild, as he matured."

"Wild, Mr. Darcy?" she asked, curiosity piqued. "In what manner do you mean?"

Darcy hesitated, weighing the potential harm of sharing more information against the need to protect those he cared for. "He grew careless with his friendships and associations, often disregarding the consequences of his actions. He has a penchant for creating discord and heartache in his wake, not to mention leaving significant debts whenever he departs a neighbourhood."

"Indeed?" Elizabeth raised a sceptical eyebrow, her keen mind already attempting to piece together the puzzle before her. "And why, pray tell, should this concern us? What bearing does Mr. Wickham's past have on our present acquaintance?"

"My father," Darcy began hesitantly, "held Wickham in high regard and, despite his wayward nature, sought to provide for him. He intended to leave him a living in the church—a respectable position that would have afforded him a comfortable life."

"Yet Mr. Wickham is not a clergyman?" Elizabeth inquired, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Indeed not," Darcy confirmed, his voice tinged with regret. "Wickham declined the offer, demanding money instead after my father's passing. I obliged, since I knew his character was not fit to be a clergyman. I granted him a significant sum—enough to establish himself in any profession he chose, including purchasing a commission in the regulars."

Elizabeth's eyes widened at this revelation. "And yet," she mused aloud, "he has joined the militia rather than the regulars. Why would he do so if he had the means to secure a more advantageous position?"

"Miss Bennet, I fear that Wickham has already squandered the money," Darcy admitted, his countenance grave. "A militia position, though poorly paid in comparison to how he could be living, provides him with the opportunity to maintain appearances without revealing the extent of his financial ruin. I cannot fathom why a man with thousands of pounds to his name – the thousands I gave him – would take such a position, thus I can only conclude he no longer has the money. And knowing his bad habits, I can well believe it."

As they walked on, Elizabeth mulled over Darcy's words, struggling to reconcile the image of the charming officer with whom they had recently made acquaintance, and the irresponsible man described by the gentleman at her side. She stole a glance at Darcy, noting the concern etched upon his face, and could not help but feel a sense of gratitude for his revelations.

"Mr. Darcy, I am obliged to you for sharing this information with me," she said earnestly. "You have provided much to consider, and I assure you that your warning will not be disregarded."

"Thank you, Miss Bennet," Darcy replied, relief evident in his voice. As they continued their stroll through the picturesque streets of Meryton, he could only hope that his cautionary tale would be enough to protect Elizabeth and her family from the charming, yet dangerous, Mr. Wickham.

Wickham stood at a distance, his keen eyes observing the unfolding scene as Elizabeth and Darcy walked arm in arm along the bustling streets of Meryton. He could not make out their words, but the intensity of their conversation was unmistakable. Wickham felt a pang of unease, imagining that the truth of his past might be revealed to the object of his newfound interest.

"Curse you, Darcy," he muttered under his breath, his gaze locked on the pair. "Why are you here, of all places?"

As Elizabeth and Darcy continued to converse, Wickham's thoughts raced. He knew he had to act quickly, lest his carefully crafted fa?ade crumble before he had the chance to ingratiate himself with the people of Meryton. Watching Elizabeth's retreating form as she walked away with Darcy, Elizabeth looked radiant, her smile lighting her face. Wickham was not blind to her beauty, but more importantly, he noticed how Darcy's gaze lingered upon her, his usually stern expression softening ever so slightly.

"Mr. Denny," Wickham murmured to his fellow officer, nodding discreetly in the direction of the receding couple. "Do you not think that Mr. Darcy appears quite taken with Miss Elizabeth Bennet?"

"Ah, yes," Denny sighed. "Every officer in the militia has tried his luck with the Bennet girls, but they are too genteel to do more than accept a single dance every now and then. A shame, for they are exceptionally beautiful. Mr. Darcy is lucky enough to be rich enough to be of interest to them!"

"Indeed," Wickham concurred, his thoughts racing with newfound determination. While he could not deny the allure of the Bennet sisters, it was the opportunity to antagonize Darcy that truly quickened his pulse. Wickham considered and discarded several different strategies, his thoughts filled with schemes to thwart Darcy's interest in Elizabeth. Perhaps he'd begin that very evening, for her silly aunt had invited him to supper, and promised her nieces would be present.

It was easy enough to sidle up alongside Elizabeth Bennet in her aunt's parlour that evening, though he had to glare away a couple of other officers hopeful of catching a few moments with the beauty.

"Miss Elizabeth," Wickham began, his voice smooth and charming, "I find myself compelled to speak with you on a matter most pressing."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at him. "Indeed? What matter could be so pressing that it requires my immediate attention?"

"Forgive me for my forwardness, but I believe it is my duty to warn you about someone whose intentions may not be as honourable as they appear," Wickham replied, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

"Ah," Elizabeth said, her lips curling into a knowing smile. "You speak of Mr. Darcy, do you not?"

Wickham hesitated, surprised by her perceptiveness. "Yes, Miss Elizabeth. It seems you are already aware of the gentleman's...reputation."

"Your concern is duly noted, Lieutenant," she replied, her tone laced with scepticism. "However, I am not inclined to judge a person solely based on hearsay. I prefer to form my own opinions."

"Of course, Miss Elizabeth, and rightly so," Wickham said, attempting to hide his frustration behind a congenial smile. "But please, allow me to share some insight from our shared history. Perhaps then, you will understand the depth of my concern."

"Very well," Elizabeth relented, folding her arms across her chest. "Proceed."

As Wickham regaled her with tales of Darcy's alleged misdeeds and slights against him, Elizabeth listened intently, her expression remaining inscrutable. Occasionally, she would interject with a question or observation, making it abundantly clear that she was not one to be easily swayed by embellished stories.

"Thank you for sharing your experiences with me, Lieutenant Wickham," she said once he had finished his account. "I must say, your story is quite extraordinary. However, I maintain that I shall reserve judgment until I have had the opportunity to know Mr. Darcy better."

"Your caution is admirable, Miss Elizabeth," Wickham replied, his smile strained as he realized his efforts had not borne the desired fruit. What had Darcy already said about him? "I trust that you will keep our conversation in confidence."

"Of course," she assured him. "Now, if you will excuse me, I must return to my sisters."

As Elizabeth retreated from the conversation, Wickham watched her walk away, his thoughts racing with frustration and determination. If his words could not sway her, then perhaps his actions would prove more convincing. He resolved to redouble his efforts to thwart Darcy's potential courtship of Elizabeth Bennet, no matter the cost. After all, in matters of love and war, all was fair. Looking about the room, he considered his next target. The silly aunt was a possible point of leverage, but he thought he spied a better target, having heard Mr. Collins mention his patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

Lady Catherine would be very displeased indeed to hear that her nephew had eyes for anyone who was not her daughter.

Wickham observed Mr. Collins from a discreet distance, noting the clergyman's obsequious manner and his tendency to fawn over those whom he considered his social superiors. The man was weak and silly, and Wickham hoped he might be easily manipulated to serve Wickham's own ends.

"Mr. Collins," Wickham called out, approaching the man with a congenial smile. "I trust you are enjoying this charming evening?"

"Ah, Lieutenant Wickham!" Mr. Collins exclaimed, bowing deeply. "Indeed, I am. As a clergyman, of course, it does not do to partake in too much frivolity, but a pleasant occasion such as this, in the home of a family member, I feel may be safely enjoyed."

"Most certainly," Wickham replied, his eyes glinting with calculation. "In fact, I have been meaning to speak with you on a matter of some importance. It concerns our mutual acquaintance, Mr. Darcy."

"Mr. Darcy?" Mr. Collins echoed, his interest piqued. "Pray, do tell."

Wickham hesitated for a moment, feigning reluctance to share his concerns. "It is a delicate matter, sir, and I fear that sharing it may cause undue distress. However, as a man of the cloth and one who holds Lady Catherine de Bourgh's esteem, I believe you are the most fitting person to hear my concerns."

"Your confidence in me is most gratifying, Lieutenant," Mr. Collins said, swelling with pride at the thought of being entrusted with critical information. "Please, do continue."

"Very well," Wickham began, lowering his voice as if to impart a terrible secret. "I have reason to believe that Mr. Darcy may be in danger of falling prey to an... adventuress."

"An adventuress?" Mr. Collins gasped, scandalized by the notion. "Surely you do not mean to imply that a lady of ill-repute has designs on Mr. Darcy's affections?"

"Indeed, I am afraid so," Wickham confirmed solemnly. "I have observed their interactions and cannot help but feel a sense of foreboding for my former friend. It is my belief that this woman seeks to ensnare him into an unsuitable match, one that would be most detrimental to his reputation and standing."

"Good heavens!" Mr. Collins exclaimed, his face pale with shock. "This is indeed a grave matter. But what can be done to prevent such a calamity?"

"Perhaps, as a man under Lady Catherine's patronage, you could write to her and inform her of the situation," Wickham suggested, feigning reluctance. "She may be able to intervene and protect Mr. Darcy from making a disastrous error in judgment."

"Of course!" Mr. Collins cried, his eyes lighting up at the notion of being the instrument of Lady Catherine's will. "But you must tell me, so that I may advise her ladyship… who is this adventuress?"

Wickham hesitated. "Perhaps adventuress is too harsh a word," he said cautiously. "But the lady in question is decidedly inferior in her station to Mr. Darcy… who is of course, promised to his cousin, Miss Anne de Bourgh. It is quite understandable that many young ladies should set their caps for a gentleman such as Mr. Darcy, wealthy and influential as he is."

"Of course, of course," Mr. Collins agreed, leaning in closer as Wickham spoke in a confiding tone. "But this one… you believe Mr. Darcy returns her admiration?"

"I fear so." Wickham pasted on a regretful expression. "And I understand your loyalties may be torn, Mr. Collins, for Miss Elizabeth Bennet is your own cousin, but surely you see it is imperative that she cannot be allowed to distract Mr. Darcy from his duty."

"Miss Elizabeth!" Mr. Collins gaped, before turning to look across the room, at where Elizabeth was speaking with Colonel Forster and her uncle Mr. Phillips. "She is very beautiful," he said consideringly.

"She is," Wickham agreed, "but Miss Anne de Bourgh is promised to Mr. Darcy. Only imagine Lady Catherine's displeasure if your cousin were to come between them, Mr. Collins!"

Mr. Collins paled slightly, obviously only too well able to imagine Lady Catherine's fury. "Indeed, that cannot be allowed to happen," the clergyman said hastily. He frowned, apparently deep in thought, before turning to Wickham and nodding. "I thank you for the information, Lieutenant. I know how to act."

"With a letter to Lady Catherine?" Wickham pressed.

"We shall see," Collins replied. "I have plans of my own which may mean Lady Catherine's intervention is not required. Indeed, I should prefer not to bring down her wrath upon my cousins unless it becomes necessary. Let me see what I can do, first."

Annoyed, Wickham watched Collins move away, heading towards Elizabeth. Was the man going to write to Lady Catherine, or not? Wickham could not imagine what Collins thought he could do, that would thwart Darcy's interest in Elizabeth. "Stupid fool," Wickham muttered. Well, he would just have to focus on his first target, the silly aunt. Befriending her would at least ensure he had regular access to Elizabeth, so Wickham pasted his smile back on and crossed the room to coax Mrs. Phillips into giving him a dance.