Page 30 of Obligation and Redemption
“Within a fortnight.” She looked away. Elizabeth had determined that she would be content with her lot, but sitting here in company with this amiable and handsome gentleman brought home to her that she would soon be attached to a man who had little admiration for her.
Wickham, having learnt of the history of the engagement and sensing her disquiet, said, “You are a fortunate woman and must congratulate yourself. You have achieved what no other has been able to thus far, and believe me when I say that many have tried to secure him.” At her look of wonder, he continued softly, “Pemberley is a lovely home, well worth any disagreeable circumstances that might accompany the match.”
She sensed that he was attempting to communicate more than was actually said, so she cautiously continued, “You know Mr. Darcy well, then?”
He smiled and laughed lightly, “You may wonder at such an assertion; it is true, but I have no right to give my opinion of him. 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 would be curious to know yours. You are soon to be wed, but I sense that the joy, that usually comes with a marriage, is lacking.”
His impertinence was lost on her curiosity. “I know very little of my soon-to-be husband, and would appreciate an opportunity to learn more about him. I know his estate is grand, but other than that, I know him only to be a tall, proud fellow,” she returned lightly.
“I cannot pretend to express a fondness for him which I do not hold. I would not be surprised if you told me that he was highly esteemed by you and your friends of Meryton, for I believe it does not often happen that he is not. The world is blinded by his fortune and consequence, or frightened by his high and imposing manners, and sees him only as he chooses to be seen.”
“He is to be gone a week while he prepares for our nuptials, but when he returns, I do hope you will not be uncomfortable by his presence.”
“Oh! No, we are not on friendly terms, and it always gives me pain to meet him, but I have no reason for avoiding him but a sense of very great ill usage and most painful regrets at his being what he is. His father, 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 found her interest of the subject increase, and listened with all her heart; but the delicacy of it prevented further inquiry.
Mr. Wickham began to speak on more general topics, Meryton, the neighbourhood, the society, appearing highly pleased with all that he had yet seen, and speaking of the latter especially, with gentle but very intelligible gallantry.
“It was the prospect of constant society, and good society, that brought me here after Denny’s description of the area.
My disposition 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 to whom you will soon be attached. ”
“Indeed!”
“Yes – the late Mr. Darcy bequeathed me the next presentation of the best living in his 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 so; but when the living fell, it was given elsewhere.”
“Good heavens!” cried Elizabeth; “but how could that be? How could his will be disregarded? Why did you not seek legal redress?”
“There was just such an informality in the terms of the bequest as to give me no hope from the law. 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 that I had forfeited all claim to it by extravagance, imprudence, in short anything or nothing. The living became vacant two years ago, exactly as I was of an age to hold it, and it was given to another man. I cannot accuse myself of having really done anything to deserve to lose it. I have a warm, unguarded temper, and I may perhaps have sometimes spoken my opinion of him, and to him, too freely. I can recall nothing worse. But the fact is, that we are very different sorts of men, and that he hates me.”
“This is quite shocking! He deserves to be publicly disgraced.” Elizabeth said this, quite forgetting that she was referring to her future husband.
“Some time or other he will be—but it shall not be by me. Till I can forget his father, I can never defy or expose him.”
Elizabeth honoured him for such feelings, and thought him handsomer than ever as he expressed them. “But what,” said she, after a pause, “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; but 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 thought Mr. Darcy so bad as this. I had supposed him to despise his fellow creatures in general, but did not suspect him of descending to such malicious revenge, such injustice, such inhumanity as this!”
“I will not trust myself on the subject,” replied 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 could have added, “A young man too, like you, whose very countenance may vouch for your being amiable,” but she contented herself with, “And one, too, who had probably been his own 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, which your uncle, Mr. Philips, appears to do so much credit to—but he gave up everything to be of use to the late Mr. Darcy, and devoted all his time to the care of the Pemberley property. 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 that he felt it to be as much a debt of gratitude to him, as of affection to myself. “
“How strange!” cried Elizabeth. “How abominable! I wonder that the very pride of Mr. Darcy has not made him just to you, if from no better motive than that he should not have been too proud to be dishonest—for dishonesty I must call it. How could he have behaved that way to you, and yet be the same man to offer for me – a woman with no connection whatsoever to his family?” Then Elizabeth blushed as she considered that Mr. Wickham must have been privy to the gossip and not wanting him to think that she might have acted with impropriety .
“It is amazing,” replied Wickham, overlooking her embarrassment, “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 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 abominable 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 Pemberley House, is a powerful motive. He has also brotherly pride which with some 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.”
After many pauses and many trials of other subjects, Elizabeth could not help reverting once more to the first, and saying, “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?” she said looking in that man’s direction.
“Not at all.”
“He is a sweet-tempered, amiable, charming man. He cannot know what Mr. Darcy is.”
“Probably not, but Mr. Darcy can please where he chooses. He does not want abilities. He can be a conversible companion if he thinks it worth his while. Among those who are at all his equals in consequence, he is a very different man from what he is to the less prosperous. His pride never deserts him; but with the rich he is liberal-minded, just, sincere, rational, honourable, and perhaps agreeable, allowing something for fortune and figure. And since you are soon to be his wife, you may very well enjoy these, his more noble and amiable attributes.”