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Startled by the lack of attention to his prompt, Wickham persisted.

“I am finding it differs from Derbyshire, where I grew up. Though being honest, being here away from my troubling memories will probably be good for me.” Looking into the distance, he continued to display an almost despairing attitude.

Were these girls simple minded? Did they not get his obvious hints?

“How do you find the landscape to be different?” Mary continued with their game.

These girls were impossible. He fought to keep up his downtrodden facade, attempting to hide his annoyance at their feather brains. “The landscape? I suppose there are more hills back in Derbyshire, where someone who was once my friend dashed all my hopes.”

Elizabeth noticed that his veneer was slipping. “Mr. Wickham, how were your hopes dashed?” She figured if she did not ask what he wanted her to, he would become apoplectic.

“My father raised me on an estate in Derbyshire called Pemberley. He was the steward and close friend of the estate owner. As Mr. Darcy’s godson, I received many benefits.

He encouraged me and helped with my education by sponsoring my going to both Eton and Cambridge.

My memories of our time spent together and the conversations we had are some of the brightest recollections I own.

The only dark note among so many bright ones was the animosity of his only living son.

The son was a haughty and prideful boy who was above talking in company.

As we both grew up, I grew closer to his father, and he resented me for how much his father loved me.

Sadly, shortly after I finished Cambridge, Mr. Darcy Senior died, and I lost a remarkable mentor.

The son used this opportunity to seek his petty revenge.

My mentor had left me a valuable living as the rector in Kempton.

I would have enjoyed such a peaceful and meaningful life.

But it was not to be. He went against his father’s wishes and refused me the living and left me to shift for myself.

I can only be grateful his poor father was not alive to see such villainy.

” This having concluded his tale, Wickham looked to the lights near him, trying to get his eyes to water.

He had never learned how to cry on demand, but this method worked well enough to garner the sympathetic response he was after.

“Such a tale of woe, Lieutenant Wickham. I can scarcely credit it,” Mary spoke, determined not to roll her eyes at his fabrication.

Elizabeth spoke with an enthusiasm she did not feel.

“How anyone could go against their parent’s desire in such a way is beyond me.

Was it not in the will that they granted you the living?

You must surely have recompense even if they granted the living to another.

” It would not do to have him know she was onto his game yet.

Wickham fought to keep a smirk off his face.

The sympathy would lead to caring and from there, they would be in the palm of his hand.

“You are too kind to think of me so. Alas, they worded the will in such a way that Mr. Darcy could avoid following through as he should have. Had he had any desire to honor his father as he should, it would have been mine.”

Mary countered his preposterous comment with a comment of her own.

“Lieutenant Wickham, I know I am only a simple uneducated female, but something is confusing me. Once you became ordained, you could go to any rectory, and perhaps you should investigate other areas to see if you can find one elsewhere. I understand the need for security and familiarity, but you should not ignore such an important mission.” She spoke with an earnest conviction, belying her thought that the weasel before her would soon be stuck in his own trap.

“Well, that is to say, um…” Wickham found himself stuttering like Darcy when he was a schoolboy. What had just happened? How did two country nobodies poke so many holes in his well-rehearsed story? He cleared his throat as he tried to decide what to say.

Elizabeth hoped he would simply leave their presence without a confrontation. “Oh, dear Lieutenant Wickham, you sound parched. Go get yourself some lemonade. Do not let us keep you.”

“I would never suspend your pleasure in our conversation by withdrawing from two such gracious ladies.” Wickham remained flummoxed.

“Do not worry your compassionate heart, Lieutenant, for we will not pine for you in your absence. I am confident your tale of misuse will keep well enough. Go seek some lemonade for yourself. My sister and I are quite content to see you go.”

Mary was relieved when he finally turned to go.

As Wickham walked to the refreshment table to get himself a drink, he tried to sort out what had just happened.

That two country maidens managed him with ease was flabbergasting.

Ladies were never happy to see him go. They longed for his presence and begged him to return as quickly as possible.

If only his creditors had not been so relentless, he would not have had to flee London.

He had joined the militia to blend in with the crowd and gain the respect of the community.

Maybe he should try for someone who would prove to be more susceptible to his many charms. There had been something intrinsically wrong with those girls, and that was why things did not work out.

That had to be it. The information he had gathered on Miss Elizabeth implied an insignificant dowry, so she was not a long-term plan, anyway.

He surveyed the area, musing over how to uncover any knowledge about an heiress in the area.

Mary’s eyes shone with laughter. She could not help but express her thoughts to her sister. “At least the weasel has left our vicinity, and we no longer have to deal with his blathering.” She tittered behind her fan.

Elizabeth, startled at her pronouncement, burst into peals of laughter that were not at all appropriate for the current setting.

“Mary, you endeavor to get me into trouble. Weasel, really? Even now Mama is looking this way.” Elizabeth tried to center herself and move past the nervous energy that filled her veins.

She did not know the lieutenant’s goal, but it was not good.

More than that, he obviously had something against Mr. Darcy.

It would take her some time to sort through what he said and implied.

She would have to seek Mr. Darcy to warn him.

Maybe they could pay a return call to Netherfield tomorrow?