Page 32 of The Riches of a Life Well-Lived

E lizabeth studied Mr. Wickham as he entered Mrs. Phillips’s drawing room. She had made several innocuous comments about knowing Mr. Darcy this morning. As he looked around the room, she smiled at him and the man smiled back, choosing to sit next to her—which had been her object. Though Mrs. Engel had told Mr. Darcy that he ought not to try to change Mr. Wickham, it did not necessarily hold true that she should not do so.

“Good evening, Mr. Wickham.”

“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, bowing with a gentle smile.

After several weeks of studying his smile, she had detected in it a slight sameness, a too-practised air to it.

“How are you this evening, Mr. Wickham?”

“Quite well. I feel so welcome in Hertfordshire that I am quite settled,” he replied, his gentle voice imbuing the statement with what sounded like gratitude and hints of wonder.

She smiled. “I am glad to hear it.”

“Tell me, are you much acquainted with your neighbour Mr. Bingley?”

“I stayed in his home for three days while my sister Jane recovered from a cold.”

“Ah. Then you are also familiar with Mr. Darcy.”

Elizabeth nodded. “As we discussed this morning.” She leaned in. “Are you acquainted with him, Mr. Wickham?”

The man nodded. “More than acquainted, in fact. We have known each other since our early childhood―” he began and then launched into his well-worn story.

After Mr. Wickham had completed his tale about the living, Elizabeth pressed her lips together. “It is not right. If only something could be done....”

“There was just such informality to the bequest that―”

“I know!” she said and jumped up. “I shall speak to my uncle.” Before Mr. Wickham could say a word, she sped off towards her uncle who was standing by the fireplace amidst a group of officers. Elizabeth greeted the lot of them and then asked for a moment of her uncle’s time.

Her uncle nodded, and she beamed at him.

Explaining Mr. Wickham’s alleged woes, she led him over to the man. “And so, I thought perhaps you might assist him,” she finished. “Mr. Darcy should not be able to steal Mr. Wickham’s livelihood—regardless of his station.”

Mr. Wickham smiled tremulously at her uncle. “I am sorry, sir. If I had known what Miss Elizabeth intended, I would not have had her disturb you for the world. I have already spoken to a solicitor and there is nothing that can be done.”

Mr. Phillips smiled at him kindly. “That may be true; however, I am more than willing to assist you. It is possible that the man was unaware of a point of law that I may be versed in.”

“No, I could not—it is too kind of you, sir,” Mr. Wickham said.

Elizabeth smiled at her uncle. “I knew you would help. You are too kind-hearted not to assist a person in need. And if Mr. Wickham were able to recover what is rightfully his, I am certain that he could pay you for your assistance.”

Mr. Phillips nodded.

Elizabeth turned to the nonplussed Mr. Wickham. “Truly, you cannot refuse an offer like that—at least you may provide my uncle with the basic details.” Elizabeth gave him a brilliant smile. “After all, you are now a member of our community and that means that we will all assist you as we may.”

Mr. Wickham returned her smile, though Elizabeth thought she detected a sickly-looking edge to it. “I shall be glad to accept your help; of course, I would not dream of taking up your time this evening.”

“Oh, you might as well tell him what you can tonight and then provide him with further details as you recall them,” Elizabeth said. She then went on with a minute description of what precisely Mr. Wickham had told her over the various Tuesdays, and even included some slight details that Mr. Darcy had mentioned. “. . . after all, such a living might be worth some three thousand pounds,” she said. “If Mr. Darcy were truly as good as he would like everyone to believe, he ought to remunerate you with that amount even if the living is not vacant,” Elizabeth finished brightly.

Mr. Wickham paled.

“I am not certain that anything can be done, legally,” Mr. Phillips said, stroking his chin. “Was anyone witness to the late Mr. Darcy’s bequest? Either verbally, or, if written, is it possible to get a copy of it?”

Mr. Wickham brightened for the barest instant before shaking his head sorrowfully. “It was made verbally, but none was present save for Mr. Darcy and myself.”

Mr. Phillips frowned. “How very odd. But perhaps Mr. Darcy’s father assumed that he could trust his son to complete his request.”

“Well, I think at the very least, someone ought to speak to Mr. Darcy about the matter,” Elizabeth said stoutly. “We cannot let such a state of affairs continue on in good conscience.”

“No, that is not necessary,” Mr. Wickham said hurriedly before giving her another tremulous smile. “I am just glad to have the militia and hopeful of making good friends here in Hertfordshire.”

Elizabeth affected a confused frown. “But then why did you tell me of the matter? I thought it must have been because you knew of my relationship with Uncle Phillips.”

“No, I, er―”

Mr. Phillips put a hand over his niece’s. “Perhaps he has other motives, Lizzy,” he said delicately, his tone and manner suggesting that Mr. Wickham might be interested in her.

Elizabeth nearly gagged at the thought of Mr. Wickham pursuing her. “Ah. Well, then I hope that the truth about Mr. Darcy is proclaimed far and wide,” she said, as though entirely oblivious to her uncle’s meaning. “I still think that someone from the neighbourhood ought to confront him—if not for Mr. Wickham’s sake, then for our own.”

Her uncle smiled down at her. “I shall speak to him.”

Mr. Wickham’s eyes widened. “I am certain there is no need for that. After all, Mr. Darcy has not wronged anybody here, and I am resigned to my fate.” He lifted concerned eyes to Mr. Phillips. “I would not see you crushed beneath Darcy’s vengeance, Mr. Phillips. Nor your niece.”

“I suppose he did say that his temper is resentful,” Elizabeth mused. “But still―”

“Regardless, I would rather not expose my unfortunate situation to the whole of the neighbourhood,” Mr. Wickham said quickly, his eyes downcast.

“I am afraid that if Mr. Darcy is as bad as you say, we must respectfully and regretfully refuse,” Elizabeth said. She smiled sunnily up at Mr. Wickham. “Do not worry, Mr. Wickham. Mr. Darcy will not bamboozle my uncle; he is an excellent judge of character. And once the neighbourhood knows how untrustworthy Mr. Darcy is, there is little he can do to harm us.”

Mr. Wickham glared at her.