Page 12 of Longbourn’s Son (Pride and Prejudice Variation #22)
“Lieutenant Wickham?” a male voice inquired courteously.
George Wickham looked up from his late breakfast at the Pig and the Poke, Meryton’s foremost eating and drinking establishment, and squinted curiously at the officer calling his name.
He recognized the man as a fellow guest at the dinner party the previous night but did not remember his name; Wickham was very new to the regiment, after all.
The man in question was some forty years of age, swarthy, and rather ill-favored though his eyes sparked with a certain malevolent intelligence.
“Yes?” Wickham inquired in a noncommittal voice.
“You may well not remember my name – I am Captain Francis Williamson of Suffolk. Might I join you?”
Wickham nodded and waved a welcoming hand to the seat in front of him before returning to attack his eggs and potatoes. Williamson caught the attention of the busy serving girl, who took his order and bustled away.
“Lieutenant Wickham, I could not help but overhear your discussion with Captain Denny last night regarding Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy,” Williamson murmured.
Wickham scowled at the man. He had lain awake for two full hours last night, considering the presence of Darcy in the area.
On the one hand, Darcy had the means at his disposal of causing him problems — Pemberley’s master held hundreds of pounds of receipts from Wickham’s debts in Lambton near Pemberley.
On the other hand, Georgiana Darcy was also in residence at Netherfield Hall, and her brother had always done anything in his power to keep the prim Miss Darcy from suffering in any way.
Wickham held the young woman’s reputation in his hands after Miss Darcy had agreed to elope with him a few months ago.
He had finally concluded that it was unlikely that Darcy would do anything to move against him, since he was far too arrogant to warn commoners about Wickham’s predilections for running up debt and seducing servant girls.
Nonetheless, Wickham wished that Darcy was not in the area.
“Yes, what of it?” Wickham demanded truculently.
Captain Williamson leaned back in his chair and smiled a little.
“There is no need to be antagonistic, my dear fellow. I merely wished to say that I recognize a clever fellow like myself when I see one; I suspect Mr. Darcy of Pemberley paid you to give up the living intended for you by his father, am I correct?”
Wickham jolted in surprise and felt his face flush.
It took him a full minute to respond, whereupon he said indignantly, “And what if he did? I was robbed, I tell you! I was young and yes, foolish, but three thousand pounds is nothing in exchange for the Kympton living, which brings in a full three hundred pounds a year plus provides lodging and the glebe for growing vegetables. Darcy took advantage of me!”
Williamson nodded pleasantly at the serving maid as she deposited food and drink at his place. The girl, who looked harried, nonetheless took a few seconds to gaze raptly on Wickham’s stormy, handsome countenance, before rushing away.
“I thought as much,” Williamson murmured, taking a gulp of ale. “Did you see how that serving wench looked at you?”
Wickham shot a look at the girl, who glanced longingly toward him before disappearing into the kitchen, and turned back. “What of it?”
“You are exceptionally good looking with marvelous manners, Wickham, which enraptures women and makes men trust you. I am a good deal older than you are and regrettably not handsome, though I can be charming when I choose. I joined the militia only a few months ago, and my purpose here is to make some money. I think we might be able to assist one another.”
Now Wickham was definitely curious. “How so?”
Williamson leaned back, using his right hand to play with his glass. “We can run up debts at the local shops, of course, and that provides some pleasure, but the real key to making money is in gaming.”
Wickham furrowed his brow. “I have not found that to be true,” he declared cynically, “unless you plan to fuzz the cards. That seems inadvisable given that if we were caught, we would be thrown out of the regiment at the best, and challenged to a duel at the worst.”
“No, no,” his companion declared, taking a bite of eggs. “No, my friend, there will likely be no need for such overt cheating when the neighborhood has many inexperienced young men of means who are interested in being part of our sophisticated, fascinating world.”
George Wickham froze with his fork partway to his mouth, and then lowered it slowly to his plate, his eyes blazing with excitement. “The local youths, you mean?”
“Precisely, my friend, along with a few of the younger officers with prospects. Think of it; most of the local young men must be bored, do you not think, trapped as they are in this dull corner of England? We have only to entice them to play cards with us. We let them win at first, and then they will lose and lose and lose.”
Wickham shook his head, not in disagreement but in astonishment.
“I confess that is quite brilliant, Captain. But are you certain there are two or three young men in the area who can afford to lose substantial sums? Even if they have expectations, that does not mean they will have a large allowance now.”
Williamson grinned unpleasantly. “You know that debts of honor are considered more important to a gentleman than anything else, Wickham. I have spent the last few weeks studying the youths of the area. The Longbourn heir, the Lucas heir, the first and second sons of William Pierce of Croyhill Manor, and a few other young bucks may not have the money in hand, but their fathers and uncles and guardians will hardly allow them to disdain a debt of honor lost at cards! If they do not dare approach their male elders, they can go to the moneylenders in London if they like. In the end, we will be the winners and they the losers, and all without bringing down reproach upon our heads. It is considered quite an appropriate pastime to play cards, is it not?”
“It is,” Wickham breathed, suddenly alight with hope. He was perennially short of funds, and if he could win at cards, instead of losing, it would quite set him up!
“Wait a minute,” he suddenly said, glaring at his companion. “It is an excellent idea, no doubt, but why do you wish to share your bounty with me instead of keeping it all for yourself?”
“There are two reasons, Wickham. First, some card games require four players and we can work together to enrich ourselves at the expense of the locals. Second, and most importantly, you are a very handsome fellow. I have no doubt the ladies will swoon over you and the young men will look up to you. I can be silver tongued myself, but my appearance works against me.”
Wickham, preening himself slightly, could only agree. The man across from him was not good looking, while his own looks rivaled the finest in the land.
“I am concerned about Mr. Darcy, however,” Williamson continued smoothly. “Given that he is in residence and dislikes you, might he cause trouble with the inhabitants of Meryton?”
Wickham shook his head, a satisfied smile hovering on his lips. “I am confident he will not,” he said with satisfaction. “I hold his young sister’s reputation in my hands, you see. She is guilty of a certain ... indiscretion, and I know all the details.”
“Excellent,” Williamson responded and lifted his cup. “To us, Wickham.”
“To us!”
/
“Good morning, Mr. Bennet, Miss Elizabeth,” Louisa Hurst said, rising to her feet with her baby in her arms. “How pleasant to see you today!”
Elizabeth glanced around in satisfaction.
Miss Darcy and Mrs. Annesley were seated by the fire, both of them working on needlework, and Mrs. Hurst had her baby, but there was no sign of Miss Bingley or the gentlemen.
Now if only her father could successfully remove Mrs. Hurst from the room, she could mention Mr. Wickham’s presence to Miss Darcy.
“Mrs. Hurst,” Mr. Bennet said with a slight bow to the lady and a fond smile at her son, “I tracked down Historia Regum Britanniae by Geoffrey of Monmouth on my rather disorganized shelves last night. The book is entirely fanciful, but I thought you would enjoy the section about the wizard Merlin bringing Stonehenge from Ireland to its current place of rest.”
“Indeed I would!” Louisa exclaimed happily. “Would it not be enjoyable to compare the account with the volumes you brought me yesterday?”
“That would be delightful, Mrs. Hurst.”
“They are in the library. Would you care to join me there in a few minutes? I must take Christopher up to his nurse; he is tired and needs a nap.”
“Of course,” Mr. Bennet said heartily, caressing the baby’s downy head and then stepping backwards to allow the lady and her son to proceed out of the drawing room. He followed her out, and Elizabeth heard them exchange a few more words before their footsteps went separate ways.
Elizabeth was inclined to marvel at what was happening between her father and Mrs. Hurst – it looked very much like a nascent courtship – but she must take this precious time to speak to Miss Darcy.
“Miss Darcy?”
“Yes, Miss Elizabeth. Will you not sit down?” the girl asked warmly, gesturing to the couch beside her.
Elizabeth did so with alacrity and spoke quietly. “I do apologize if I seem forward, but yesterday I met a man who claimed to know your family, and there was a peculiarity in his eyes and manner which made me think I ought to tell you of his presence in the neighborhood.”
An unmistakable alarm transformed Miss Darcy’s features from welcoming to fearful. “What was his name, Miss Elizabeth?”
“Mr. Wickham,” Elizabeth responded, and was grieved to observe the young woman’s face turn parchment white.
Georgiana Darcy even swayed a little, and Elizabeth automatically put out a hand to support her suddenly feeble form, even as she cast a worried, apologetic look on Mrs. Annesley, whose own lips were now tight with outrage.
“I do apologize,” Elizabeth began rather breathlessly, “I ought not to have…”
“No, we are very grateful,” Mrs. Annesley assured her, though her eyes remained fixed worriedly on her young charge. “You have no doubt guessed that Mr. Wickham is not on good terms with the Darcy family, but I am not at liberty to say more.”
“Of course not,” Elizabeth said promptly. “Indeed, I do not wish to pry in any way. I merely felt I ought to tell you that he has joined the local militia regiment as a lieutenant.”
Georgiana was still pale and trembling, but she managed to whisper, “Did he … did he say anything about me?”
Elizabeth shook her head and said, “Nothing of import, I assure you. We agreed that you are a charming young lady, that Mr. Darcy is a kind brother, and that is all. But there was a look in Mr. Wickham’s eye when he spoke that alarmed me.”
“You are far wiser than most women then,” Mr. Darcy’s voice proclaimed, causing all the ladies to jump slightly.
Georgiana leaped to her feet at the sight of her brother’s tall form and threw herself into his arms. “Oh, Brother! Did you hear?”
“That Wickham is in the area? Yes,” Darcy stated. His face was slightly pale, his brows furrowed, his expression thunderous and Elizabeth, who had thought him an imperturbable, even passionless man, realized she was quite wrong in thinking him sedate where Miss Darcy was concerned.
“What shall we do?” Miss Darcy began, only to break off at a warning glance from her brother.
“I am certain you wish to discuss this among yourselves,” Elizabeth said, rising gracefully to her feet. “I will join my father and Mrs. Hurst in the library to discuss Stonehenge.”
“Thank you, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy replied, gratitude bleeding into his tone. “I was not prevaricating when I said that few women are wise enough to doubt Wickham and his words. He is most charming, but I assure you, not a true gentleman.”
“I must give credit to Miss Lucas, then,” Elizabeth confessed as she walked toward the door. “She pointed out that we know little about the militia officers in Meryton, since they come from elsewhere. In any case, I promise I will not speak of Wickham or his relationship to your family to anyone.”
Darcy, who still had his arm wrapped around his sister, nodded his head gratefully.