Page 6 of Love Among the Shadows
That evening, Mr Collins arrived, and Elizabeth, though prepared to temper her expectations, was still disheartened. He was a man of unremarkable appearance, with a slight limp that did little to enhance his already awkward demeanour. His manners, though excessively polite, bordered on the absurd, and his conversation was riddled with constant references to his “esteemed patroness,” Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Mr Collins spoke of her estate, Rosings Park and the parsonage at Hunsford with such reverence that Elizabeth soon wearied of hearing of their supposed magnificence.
The first evening was spent in strained civility as Mr Collins endeavoured to acquaint himself with the family. Before long, he hinted at his intention to take a wife, preferably one of his cousins. Mrs. Bennet, convinced that Mr Bingley would soon propose to Jane, eagerly redirected Mr Collins’s attentions toward Elizabeth.
To Elizabeth’s dismay, Mr Collins took this suggestion to heart. He hovered about her constantly, discussing topics such as gardening and sermon composition with a fervour that tested her patience. Her vague responses, intended to deter him, had the opposite effect, seeming only to encourage him further.
A week after Mr Collins’s arrival, he accompanied the Bennet sisters to Mrs. Philips’s house for an afternoon gathering. To Elizabeth’s relief, Mr Wickham was also present, having been invited by Mr Philips himself. While the others played at cards, Mr Wickham found his way to Elizabeth’s side, his easy manner immediately putting her at ease.
After the usual pleasantries, Mr Wickham inquired casually, “How far is Netherfield from Meryton?”
“Not more than three miles,” Elizabeth replied. “Why do you ask sir?” she queried even though she knew the answer to the questions.
“I hear Mr Darcy is staying there. I wonder how long he has been in residence.”
Seeing that Mr Wickham had initiated the very conversation she had been hoping to pursue, Elizabeth replied, “I believe it has been about a month, as that is roughly the length of time since his arrival in Meryton. However, I could be mistaken, for I have only encountered Mr Darcy twice—once the day before I had the pleasure of meeting you, and again when we saw him at the market together.” She paused briefly, then added, “I hear he is a man of considerable wealth and the proprietor of a vast estate.”
“Ah, yes.” Wickham said with a wry smile. “He has a grand estate called Pemberley. Perhaps no one knows more about it, or its master, than Mr Darcy and myself.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened at this revelation, and Mr Wickham, noticing her reaction, continued smoothly, “You seem surprised, Miss Bennet. But it is true. I grew up at Pemberley, in Mr Darcy’s household. Our parting, however, was far from amicable.”
Elizabeth leaned forward slightly, her curiosity piqued. “I confess I find Mr Darcy the most disagreeable man on earth, yet I almost wish to be proven wrong in my assessment.”
“In that, Miss Bennet, I fear I can offer little solace,” Wickham replied with a rueful smile. “My childhood at Pemberley affords me insights that are impossible to overlook. Mr Darcy’s pride and selfishness have grown unchecked, and his character is every bit as flawed as you perceive.”
Encouraged, Elizabeth said, “You confirm what we in Meryton have long suspected. Consider this: he quarrels with a man at the assembly, and the very next day, that man is found poisoned. What sort of coincidence is that? Many here suspect he is involved, for no such tragedy befell our town before his arrival. And if he is innocent, then surely, he must be a man of the most wretched fortune.”
Wickham paused as though weighing his words. “Miss Bennet,” he began gravely, “I would not presume to cast aspersions without cause, but I must admit I would put little beyond Mr Darcy. His sense of entitlement knows no bounds. He will stop at nothing to secure his own ends.”
Encouraged by Elizabeth’s attentiveness, Mr Wickham settled into his account with an air of measured candour. “Mr Darcy and I were born in the same parish, Miss Bennet, and as children, we spent much of our time together. My father was steward to the elder Mr Darcy, a man of great worthand unassailable integrity. He took a particular interest in my welfare, so much so that I was brought up almost as a second son in the Pemberley household.”
Elizabeth’s brows rose in surprise. “How extraordinary!”
“Indeed,” Wickham continued. “The elder Mr Darcy was my godfather, and he promised me, in no uncertain terms, a living in the church. It was a promise I worked toward with diligence, believing it would secure my future. Yet when he passed, his son, the present Mr Darcy, saw fit to deny me that promise entirely.”
Elizabeth’s astonishment deepened. “But how could he justify such an action? Surely, he must have had no cause?”
“None,” Wickham replied, his tone heavy with bitterness. “It was an act of sheer spite, borne of jealousy and pride. You see, Miss Bennet, his father’s affection for me far exceeded what Mr Darcy deemed appropriate. To him, my presence was an offense—a constant reminder, perhaps, that his father had once favoured another. And so, with the stroke of a pen, he robbed me of the living that had been pledged to me and cast me out.”
Elizabeth’s indignation was immediate. “Such cruelty is scarcely believable! To deprive you of what was rightfully yours, simply because of wounded pride! What sort of man behaves so?”
“The sort of man who sees others as tools or obstacles, to be used or discarded at his leisure,” Wickham said gravely. “Mr Darcy’s sense of superiority extends to all aspects of his life. He is a man accustomed to having his will obeyed without question, and he tolerates no opposition. However, for his father’s sake, I chose not to expose him”
Elizabeth regarded him with a mixture of admiration and sympathy. “You have suffered greatly under his hand,Mr Wickham, and yet you speak with such restraint. It is remarkable.”
“I assure you, Miss Bennet, I have made my peace with the past,” Wickham replied with a faint smile. “I have resolved to forgive him, though I would be lying if I said the wound has entirely healed. Still, I will not allow his presence to dictate my actions. I will not be driven from Meryton simply because he happens to be here.”
Elizabeth’s admiration grew, her opinion of Mr Darcy diminishing in equal measure. “You are generous indeed, sir, to forgive such an injustice. I cannot imagine I would be so magnanimous.”
Wickham shook his head. “Forgiveness is as much a necessity for oneself as it is for others, Miss Bennet. Yet I do not mistake forgiveness for submission. Mr Darcy has wronged me, but he will not rule my life.”
“But then,” Elizabeth continued, a trace of worry crossing her face, “he must have pretended to Mr Bingley, his friend. Do you know him much?”
“Not well,” Wickham replied thoughtfully.
“He is a man of sweet behaviour and beloved by all,” Elizabeth said earnestly. “How he managed to befriend Mr Darcy seems beyond me, for they are of such opposite character.”
“Ah, but you underestimate Mr Darcy,” Wickham replied, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “He is a man of many faces. He has a rare talent for feigning warmth and attachment when it suits him. I have seen him act the part of a devoted friend, a caring brother, even a generous master. But, in truth, he is none of these things.”
Elizabeth frowned, her indignation rising. “A caring brother, you say? How many siblings does he have?”
