Page 52 of A Most Beloved Sister
“But—”
“You never would have guessed, given the cold manner of greeting?”
Elizabeth shook her head, and Wickham gave her a sad smile. “My father began life in the same profession as your uncle, Mr. Phillips. He gave everything up, however, to be the steward of the late Mr. Darcy. He devoted all his time to the care of Pemberley, and he was most highly esteemed by Mr. Darcy as a most intimate, confidential friend.”
“Then why—”
“When Fitzwilliam and I were about twelve years of age, Lady Anne Darcy—Fitzwilliam’s mother—gave birth to a child. This where I am unsure of the particulars, other than Lady Anne was confined to her chambers after the birth and my father was accused of being the child’s natural parent.”
Elizabeth gasped, and her hands flew to her face. Her cheeks burned underneath the palms of her hands as she whispered, “How terrible!”
“None of it was true, but Mr. Darcy sent my father away without a recommendation. As my father had given up all his clients to serve the Pemberley estate—and the accusations made us unwelcome in the whole of Derbyshire—we were forced to relocate to another county. Without references, or even a quarter’s pay, we were reduced to quite an appalling state of poverty that I, a youth just becoming a man, had little experience with.”
“How abominable! Was there no recourse?”
Wickham shook his head. “I pleaded with Fitzwilliam to reason with his father, but our friendship was apparently not as resilient as I had believed it to be. The affection, it seemed, was all on my side. Later, I heard my parents discussing a letter they had received from a friend in Lambton—that’s the small village near Pemberley, much like Meryton, in fact. Apparently, Lady Anne was never seen in public again, nor was the child.”
“What, never?”
“She died a year later, from what little I know. My own excellent father died not long thereafter, as did my mother. All that was left for me was to sign up as a drummer until I could enlist in the Regulars. It was that or the sea, and I do not much care for water.”
“This is all quite shocking!” declared Elizabeth furiously. “The late Mr. Darcy deserves to be publicly disgraced!”
“Some time or another he will be, but it shall not be by me. Until I can forget his kindness to me as a boy, I can never expose him. All I can think is that some terrible tragedy must have occurred to make him lose his mind.”
Elizabeth honored 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?”
“I often wondered if the reason Fitzwilliam did not stand up to his father for me was because he was jealous of the attention and affection I received from him, and he told him tales about my father and his mother to drive a wedge between our families.”
“Why in heaven’s name would he have done that?”
“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. He, who was allowed everything he ever desired, was jealous of my easiness with his father, and he sought to punish me for it.”
“I had not thought Mr. Darcy so bad as this—though I have never liked him, I had not thought so very ill of him. I hadsupposed him to be despising his fellow-creatures in general but did not suspect him of descending to such malicious revenge, such injustice, such inhumanity as this!”
Elizabeth was again deep in thought, and after a time exclaimed, “For the late Mr. Darcy to treat his godson in such an infamous manner! For his son to be so vicious towards his friend!”
Shecouldhave 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.”
There was a pause; then Elizabeth said, “I am astonished at his intimacy with Mr. Bingley. How can Mr. Bingley, who seems good humor 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?”
“Not at all.”
“He is a sweet-tempered, amiable, charming man; at least, from all appearances, he is. 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 an amiable 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, honorable, and, perhaps, agreeable—allowing something for fortune and figure.”
At that point, a table of whist broke up, and the players began to move about the room. Charlotte Lucas came over to greet Elizabeth and be introduced to Wickham, whose flattery put the elder girl to blush.
The three continued talking together with mutual satisfaction until another round of cards put an end to the tête-à-tête, andthe rest of the ladies demanded their share of Mr. Wickham’s attentions. There could be no more private conversation in the noise of Mrs. Philips’s party, but his manners recommended him to everybody. Whatever he said was said well, and whatever he did was done gracefully.
When the evening came to a close, Elizabeth went away with her head full of him. She could think of nothing but of Mr. Wickham, and of what he had told her, all the way to Netherfield.
As Elizabeth came around the last bend, it occurred to her to be more concerned with Jane in Darcy’s company than with Bingley’s. After all, a man who would lie about his own mother’s good name wouldn’t hesitate to lie about his friend’s.
She tapped her toes anxiously in the carriage, mentally urging the coachman forward. With each sound of the horse’s hooves on the gravel, she pleaded with them to move faster. Those entreaties were intermingled with prayers to the Almighty to keep her sister safe from harm.
