Page 23 of Heiress of Longbourn (Pride and Prejudice Variations)
Colonel Forster’s House
Meryton
Evening
The study in Colonel Forster’s rented house was not a large one, and the walls rang with the echoes of his furious steps up and down the unadorned wooden floorboards as he paced. Wickham cowered by his superior’s desk, letting his colonel’s fury burst over him. Behind him, Darcy loomed forbiddingly in the doorway, blocking off any hope of escape by that route. Forster reached the end of his circuit and spun on his heel to glower at the unfortunate Wickham.
“The only reason I am not arresting you for desertion, Lieutenant Wickham, is that I am anxious to assist the Bennets by hiding Miss Lydia’s folly in running away with you. But mark my words, Wickham, if you cause any more trouble, I will drop the hammer on you. I am familiar with youthful officers who drink and gamble too much, but to seduce a gentleman’s daughter? To run away with her, leaving her family to cope with the ensuing scandal? And this, when the eldest Miss Bennet will soon be married to Mr. Bingley? How dare you, sir?”
“I am sorry, sir,” Wickham said meekly. “Miss Lydia Bennet is truly a lovely young woman, and my passion for her led me to act in a reckless way. I truly meant no harm.”
The colonel, whose brow was furrowed, cast a questioning look at Darcy, who said, “When Mr. Bennet and I caught up with Wickham, he insisted that he would only marry Miss Lydia in exchange for five hundred pounds a year.”
Forster’s face reddened more, and he shook his head. “I am not certain I can accept you back into the militia, Wickham. A man who would behave in such a way and then attempt to extort money from a gentleman? No, it is beyond the pale.”
“Assuming you agree, Mr. Wickham will shortly be leaving the regiment in order to join the Regulars, Colonel Forster,” Darcy said. “I think it best if he remains here for a few days and make it clear to all that it was his brother, the parson, who ran left with Miss Lydia, not him. Then he will leave Meryton forever and join a Regulars regiment, which will be shipping out for the Peninsula soon.”
Forster frowned at this and said, “Does he have sufficient funds to purchase a commission?”
“No, of course not,” Darcy said drily. “He will not be entering the Regulars as an officer, but as a foot soldier.”
The colonel turned a baleful eye on the lieutenant. “And you have agreed to this, Lieutenant?”
Wickham shuffled his feet and shot a resentful look at Darcy. “I do not have any other choice.”
“Why?” Forster demanded.
“Because if he does not enter the Regulars, I will have him locked up in Marshalsea for debt,” Darcy stated. “I hold literally hundreds of pounds of receipts for debts that Wickham left in Lambton, near my estate of Pemberley, and which I paid off.”
“I see,” Forster said. “Well, Wickham, you are a fortunate man to avoid both the noose and debtors’ prison. Now go to your barracks and act as if your life depends on it. It was your brother who departed with Miss Lydia, not you, and you will inform everyone that according to Darcy, who went after them with Mr. Bennet, that the matter has been sorted out entirely. Is that clear?”
Wickham nodded sullenly. “Yes, sir.”
“Very good. Wickham, let me make one more thing clear. If you attempt to double cross me and Darcy and run away, I will do everything in my power to track you down, and then you will be hanged for desertion. Do you understand?”
Now Wickham was white. “Yes, sir.”
“Get on with you, then,” his superior ordered.
Wickham saluted smartly and, after a brief, loathing glance at Darcy, marched out the door. Colonel Forster waited until the door was shut behind his errant officer and then said, “Do you think Wickham will make a run for it?”
Darcy blew out a breath and slowly shook his head. “I do not think so, as George Wickham has always been a coward. Facing a possible death sentence as a deserter is no small thing, and he has no financial resources at hand. However, he may be feeling desperate, so I cannot be absolutely certain.”
“I will assign two privates to watch him until he is escorted away,” Colonel Forster stated.
“That seems like a good plan,” Darcy said approvingly.
***
Kympton Parsonage
11 O’clock at Night
Elizabeth crept down the stairs, her feet making no sound in the soft carpet that covered the steps. Behind her, Lydia was already asleep in the bed they would be sharing until the wedding. The younger girl had offered no protest when Elizabeth had expressed a desire to sit beside the fire awhile and read, but she had only yawned and complained of her own fatigue. Elizabeth had worked to focus on the novel in her hands – an excellent book loaned to her by Alexander, all about a man named Robinson Crusoe, who had been stranded on an island where he had to learn to survive. At any other time, it would fully absorb her attention, but that night, her mind was preoccupied by the upcoming conversation.
Their father had drawn her aside in the hall as she and Lydia had started towards the stairs to retire for the evening.
“Once your sister is asleep, Lizzy, please come back down,” he had murmured. “I wish to speak with you.”
Elizabeth had agreed, of course, and followed her youngest sister up the stairs, hiding the trouble in her heart from her face. Lydia, still so innocent in some ways, had suspected nothing and chattered merrily as she readied herself for bed.
Now, Elizabeth reached the bottom of the stairs and stood a moment, listening and looking about her. Male voices and firelight drew her attention, and she slipped down the passage to pause in the doorway of the small book room, where her father and Alexander sat within.
“I need to obtain a license and will need to journey to Derby to acquire it,” Alexander said, “but … oh, Elizabeth! Do come in, please, and warm yourself by the fire.”
“I am sorry if I am interrupting,” she said hesitantly.
“Not at all, Lizzy,” Mr. Bennet said. “Is Lydia asleep?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Then do come in and enjoy the flames. I told Alexander that I did not wish to speak at length about the next few days without you here; you are a clever girl, my dear Lizzy, with an excellent memory for details.”
Elizabeth nodded and made her way to her father, who was sitting on a navy blue settee drawn near the fire. After several anxious, confusing days on the road, she was eager to learn more about Alexander Wickham’s plans.
Alexander, who had risen at Elizabeth's entrance, waited until she was comfortably seated next to Mr. Bennet, and then lowered himself onto his own chair.
“I was just telling your father that I will need to obtain a marriage license from Derby, which is some five and twenty miles from here. With your permission, I will obtain it on Monday, and Lydia and I can wed the following day. My curate will perform the service.”
“I think that sounds perfect,” Mr. Bennet said. “But before we speak any further of practicalities, I hope you will tell me, Mr. Wickham, why you are doing this.”
Elizabeth, lifting her gaze to her host, was pleased that he did not pretend ignorance of what her father was asking.
The rector leaned back in his chair, ran a hand down his face, and said, “There are multiple reasons, but the first may seem illogical, but it is true. I love my brother very much.”
“Do you?” Bennet replied. “In that case, I find it puzzling that you have arranged with Mr. Darcy to have Wickham shipped to the Peninsula as a member of the infantry. Given the attrition in the ranks of our troops, there is every chance he will die there.”
Elizabeth, who had not heard even a whisper of such a plan, turned wondering eyes on Alexander, who said, “Yes, and while I am concerned about that, I also have some hope that being a soldier at war will be the making of George. But to explain that, I must talk about our childhood growing up in Pemberley.”
Bennet waved an encouraging hand, Elizabeth sat up straighter, and Alexander continued, “Like Isaac and Rebekah in the Bible, my father and mother had a favorite twin. George was preferred by my mother, while my father and I had a great deal in common. Looking back, I am confident that the seeds of George’s character were planted by my mother. Mrs. Wickham was the youngest child and only daughter of a fairly successful wool merchant. She was spoiled as a girl, and once married, she was always spending more than she ought. It was frustrating to my father, who worked hard as steward of Pemberley and was paid very well given his position, as he could never save anything up because my mother spent so extravagantly. Indeed, both my brother and I were only able to attend school thanks to the generosity of Mr. Darcy.
“We did go to school, and I felt the calling to obtain Holy Orders. Old Mr. Darcy, who also preferred George to me, was eager to provide for both of us through the church, as the Darcys are patrons of at least four good livings. George decided against such study, which was a good thing, as he was already…”
Alexander trailed off and looked at the fire and then shook his head slightly. “Sadly, my brother took on many of the character traits of the sprigs of nobility and gentlemen’s sons with whom we rubbed shoulders. He gambled, he drank too much, and he, well, suffice it to say that he did not engage in honorable relationships with women. But this story is taking too long.”
Alexander huffed and turned to face Mr. Bennet. “The truth, sir, is that while George is responsible for his sin against God and man, he was also raised very poorly. Whenever my father tried to discipline George, my mother would interfere and weep and wail and fuss, and my father, who was of a milder disposition, would give in. Thus, my brother grew up with the belief that he could have whatever he wanted, and thanks to his considerable charm, once my mother died, he was able to manipulate others into allowing him the lifestyle that he believed he deserved. I hope that on the front lines of the army, he may learn some discipline and hard work, and perhaps thankfulness for simple things.”
He lapsed into silence, and Mr. Bennet said quietly, “I am well aware that there are distinct parallels with my own family. Lydia has ever been her mother’s favorite, and I have never bothered to rein her in; it always seemed like too much trouble.”
“I will not insult you by disagreeing,” Alexander replied. “My observation is that Lydia is a reasonably intelligent young woman, with a dominant personality which has in no way been restrained. In this, George and Lydia are similar. The difference, of course, is that George is a man, and thus he can ruin women with impunity, while if Lydia returns home unwed after running away, not only she, but all her sisters, will be permanently tainted by scandal. It is not fair that my brother would destroy your family in such a way, and thus I feel called to wed Lydia in his place.”
“So you are marrying Lydia out of pity,” Elizabeth said. “As much as I wish for my young sister to be married to a good man, and obviously you are, that does not seem a healthy start for a successful union. Moreover, Lydia is neither steady nor sensible, and hardly ready to be a parson’s wife. Are you certain you will not regret this?”
“Lizzy, if Mr. Wickham wishes to marry Lydia, we ought not to discourage him,” Mr. Bennet said uneasily.
Alexander shook his head. “I have offered and been accepted, and I will not draw back. In any case, many a man has chosen a wife for pragmatic reasons. Moreover, I truly think that Lydia can be an agreeable wife if she is treated with gentle authority. I have no intention of allowing her to rule the roost, and given that she enjoys certain pleasures, such as pretty dresses and hats, I believe I can manage to bring about improvements in her behavior through judicious use of available funds.”
“You may find it more difficult than you imagine,” Bennet grunted.
“Perhaps,” Alexander said and shifted his gaze to his prospective sister by marriage. “I have something for you to think about, Elizabeth. It seems to me that if you were to stay here at the parsonage for some weeks, it would help not only me and Lydia, but the family’s reputation. After all, with an older sister along for the journey north, the entire affair will seem less scandalous. Unfortunately, you would miss your elder sister’s wedding, so if you are unwilling, please say so.”
Elizabeth leaned back in her chair and considered. While she did not like the thought of missing Jane’s marriage ceremony, she was well aware that Alexander was giving up a great deal to marry Lydia, and his reasoning was sound.
“I will stay,” she said, “so long as you give me permission, Father.”
“Of course,” her father replied, “and I am grateful. Well, it is late, and I am certain we all need our sleep for what will be a few busy days. Do you have a solicitor here in Kympton who can help with drawing up the settlements, Mr. Wickham?”
“Not in Kympton, no, but I do in Lambton, which is but seven miles away. Perhaps after I return with the license, we can make the trip to Lambton to have the papers drawn up?”
“Yes, if it does not sound like an overly fatiguing day for you,” Mr. Bennet said.
Alexander chuckled and said, “I am used to journeying here and there by horse to visit my parishioners, sometimes over rather doubtful roads and paths. I will be well.”
“Lydia and I can make plans for the wedding itself,” Elizabeth said. “There will be no time to acquire a new gown, but perhaps we can purchase some ribbons or something of the like?”
“By all means,” Alexander agreed. “My housekeeper was permitted a holiday while I was gone, but she lives nearby, and I can send her a message to return tomorrow. She will be able to assist you by guiding you to the haberdashery.”
“Excellent,” Mr. Bennet said, rising to his feet. “Good night, Mr. Wickham.”
“Good night,” Alexander replied.