Page 7 of Superior Connections

T he officers entered and were introduced to Mr Bennet, then drinks and refreshments were ordered.

“I hope we are not intruding,” Mr Wickham said. “We have been worried for Miss Elizabeth since we heard about the accident and wished to enquire after her health.”

“They are not intruding, are they, Mama?” Lydia replied with apparent joy.

“Indeed, you are not. Besides, you told us yesterday that you might call,” Mrs Bennet responded.

“I thank you for your concern,” Elizabeth said, “but I am well. It was a little accident, with no dire consequences. I was found and brought home quickly.” She watched Mr Wickham intently as she spoke. She tried to see beyond his handsome face and enchanting smile and pondered whether she might open the delicate subject of his dealings with Mr Darcy or not.

“What a relief to hear that,” Mr Wickham answered. “From the reports in Meryton, I was under the impression you were in mortal danger and Darcy saved your life. But then, it has always been his tendency to exaggerate his actions.”

Such an impertinent statement gave Elizabeth the opportunity she was waiting for. However, it was Lady Rosseford who spoke first.

“Since you know Mr Darcy’s habits, you must be well acquainted.”

“We are, your ladyship. In fact, I grew up at Pemberley. My late father was the late Mr Darcy’s steward, and that gentleman was my godfather. He loved me and supported me all my life. He was a true friend and one of the best men that ever breathed.”

“He was your godfather? How wonderful. Mr George Darcy was an excellent man, indeed. Very much like his father.”

“Was your ladyship acquainted with him?” Mr Wickham enquired with obvious alarm.

“Yes, with him and with his father.”

“What a lovely coincidence. Perhaps we met at Pemberley and I have forgotten.”

“If we did, you were too young to remember. I last visited twenty years ago.”

“Ah. I am glad we agree on the worthiness of Mr George Darcy. Sadly, I cannot say the same about his son, despite some people’s high opinion of him. He might be an excellent master and landlord — that I do not deny.”

“Then what do you deny, Mr Wickham?” Lady Rosseford continued, keeping a light voice and an amiable smile.

“Darcy’s behaviour towards me has been scandalous. More than the injustice done to me, it pains me that he disappointed the hopes and disgraced the memory of his father. In short, my godfather left me something to ensure me a comfortable life, which his son refused to grant.”

“Something? An important sum of money, I assume?”

“A living. My godfather wished to provide for me amply and thought he had done so, but two years after his death, when the living fell vacant, it was given elsewhere.”

“Oh dear, this is horrible!” Kitty cried. “You poor man!”

“But I wonder,” Elizabeth interjected, “considering your godfather’s affection and care for you, did he not leave you something for your immediate support? The living might not have fallen vacant for many years. Would a sum of money not have been more helpful?”

The question seemed to puzzle Mr Wickham, and he paused before answering.

“He did. He left me one thousand pounds.”

“And was that refused to you too?”

“No…that sum I received. But the church ought to have been my profession — I was brought up for it. As much as I enjoy my present situation and as delighted as I am with the society I am in, I was not intended for a military life. I should at this time have been in possession of a most valuable living, had it pleased a certain gentleman.”

As she listened to the man talking, Elizabeth fought with a disturbing sensation; she recognised many words in his speech from their last discussion, as if it were something rehearsed and repeated. With anxiety, she remembered Mr Darcy’s assertion that the man would spread such rumours everywhere, to anyone willing to listen.

“This sounds intriguing. I am most curious,” Lady Rosseford said. “How could Mr Darcy deny you something left in a will? Did you not seek legal help?”

“Well, it was a peculiar arrangement, and it was not put in writing, so I had no hopes if I were to address it through the law. It was left at the discretion of the heir, but a man of honour could not have doubted the intention. Darcy chose to treat it merely as a conditional recommendation.”

“That is what I assumed. Conditions are usually attached to such arrangements. Did Mr Darcy declare you had not met them?”

“He did. He asserted that I had forfeited all claim to the living by extravagance, imprudence — in short, anything or nothing.”

“Well, such assertions cannot be called nothing, especially if they were used to deny what was lawfully yours,” Mr Bennet interjected. “Did you not request proof of what it was he accused you of?”

“I did. But Darcy has the habit of turning things to please himself. He has done so since we were at Cambridge, and he always finds something to criticize about me.”

“Mr Darcy seems to criticise everyone, all the time,” Lydia offered, and Mrs Bennet nodded in approval. Mr Wickham looked pleased with the support.

“And did he provide you with no compensation for the living?” Elizabeth continued.

“Well, he did offer some compensation…” Mr Wickham answered, looking hesitant and disconcerted.

“Monetary compensation, I imagine,” Elizabeth asked further, nervous to see the proof of what she had refused to admit before.

“Yes…but it was insufficient. The living became vacant two years ago, exactly as I was of an age to hold it. But it was given to another man, and I cannot blame myself for anything but speaking my opinion of him and to him too freely.”

“Lizzy argues with him all the time, and none of us like him!” Lydia declared.

“I do not understand, Mr Wickham,” Elizabeth persisted. “The compensation was offered to you before or after the living became vacant?”

He glanced around, his nervousness obvious, and the answer was delayed again.

“George Darcy sent you to Cambridge with his son?” Lady Rosseford enquired abruptly, changing the course of the conversation.

“Yes…yes he did,” Mr Wickham responded.

“That was extraordinarily generous of him. It must have been a significant expense,” Mr Bennet said.

“It was. As I said, he did love me like I was his own son. It pains me to speak ill of the son due to my affection and loyalty to the father.”

“Such feelings are to your credit, I am sure. Graduating from Cambridge is a great advantage for any gentleman. It is one few men — even those from good families — can afford. It must have enabled you to pursue any career of your choosing. How did you end up in the militia if you studied for the church?” Mr Bennet asked, and Elizabeth watched the officer’s face colouring.

“Well, I…it took me some time before I realised what my true calling was — what would suit me the best. I had to choose between the study of the law and the church, so my career was uncertain until recently.”

“And you ended up in the militia,” Lady Rosseford concluded. Elizabeth noticed the irony in the last statement, and Mr Wickham’s anxiety showed he was not ignorant of it either.

“Regardless, we are happy to have you here, Mr Wickham,” Mrs Bennet said with a large smile. “We hope a military career will suit you just as well as the uniform, for you surely look most dashing in it. You too, Mr Denny!”

Lydia and Kitty eagerly agreed with their mother’s statement, and Mr Bennet rolled his eyes.

“Thank you, madam,” Mr Denny answered enthusiastically, while Mr Wickham only bowed his head and attempted a smile.

“I am eagerly anticipating the ball,” Lydia added. “Mr Wickham, I know Lizzy was your favourite, but I do not think she will be able to dance, so you will have to dance with us instead.”

“Lydia!” Elizabeth cried, mortified.

“And you, Mr Denny, you must promise to dance at least one set with each of us!”

“I would not have it any other way, Miss Lydia,” the officer promised.

“I shall be delighted to dance with all of you,” Mr Wickham eventually said absently, his mind apparently engaged elsewhere.

The conversation about the ball continued until Mr Wickham suddenly remembered he had some previous engagement, and the officers took their farewells.

“Well, that certainly was the most entertaining and informative visit we have had in a long time,” Mr Bennet declared.

“Poor Mr Wickham. He is so amiable and handsome, and Mr Darcy was so mean to him!” Lydia replied.

“But otherwise, Mr Wickham would have been a clergyman, like Mr Collins,” Mary stated.

“What a horrible thing to say!” Kitty cried. “How can you even compare them?”

“They certainly cannot be compared,” Lady Rosseford said. “But if we did, we might be surprised by the result. Now excuse me, I shall go and rest for a little while. I feel tired.”

“You look a little flushed, Aunt,” Elizabeth said with worry. “Should we send for Mr Jones?”

“Absolutely not, my dear. I only need a little sleep.”

“Let me take you to your room, and I shall bring you some herbal tea, Aunt,” Jane offered. “Lizzy, you should go and rest too.”

Jane escorted her aunt while Mary and Kitty helped Elizabeth to her chamber, and once there, she lay down on the bed. Her ankle was a little swollen, but she mostly needed privacy to reflect upon the officers’ visit. So many details had been revealed by asking only a few questions — which she had not even considered doing before. Feeling ashamed, she realised that, during her first discussion with Mr Wickham, she had acted just like Lydia and Kitty: charmed, trusting, and gullible.

Mr Wickham’s story appeared differently in light of the new information. He had received one thousand pounds and some additional compensation that he had avoided specifying. His godfather had paid for him to attend Cambridge, but it was likely he had not spent much time on his studies. He had swung between the study of the law and the study of the church yet had ended up doing neither. He had said nothing about his own indecision and placed the entire blame on Mr Darcy.

The way they had addressed their enquiries showed Elizabeth that her father and Lady Rosseford also doubted Mr Wickham. As long as he was allowed to tell his story in his own way with his own well-prepared words, Mr Wickham sounded trustworthy. When he was questioned, his answers aroused suspicion.

From the little Mr Darcy had told her, there were many reasons for the living being denied. Now that she had done as he suggested, Elizabeth intended to open the subject with Mr Darcy again to discover the whole truth. Perhaps the ball would provide her with that opportunity since she could not dance and he loathed the activity so much. What else could they do but talk? After the ball, she might not have another chance before he returned to London. Once he left Hertfordshire, she might not see him again soon, if ever, and that thought caused her to feel a strange regret.

In the afternoon, Mr Jones came to examine Elizabeth again. The conclusion was good; he only recommended further rest but approved of Elizabeth’s attendance at the ball. Elizabeth and Jane persuaded the apothecary to see Lady Rosseford too, but their aunt declared she was in excellent health. She accepted some herbs to increase her strength, but she rejected any other discussion of the matter.