Pride in Meryton, page 6
He had, however, found William’s attentions to Miss Elizabeth quite interesting! In all of their acquaintance, George had never observed William give a moment’s notice to any woman, despite the constant stream of women thrown into his path. A man like William with his noble mien and grand fortune was an enviable prize on the marriage market but William was more concerned with duty and honour than the pleasures afforded by the fairer sex.
Perhaps William was willing to forego duty and honour for a night of pleasure with the lovely Miss Elizabeth, he mused. George laughed out loud and discarded the notion; Miss Elizabeth did not seem to be the woman to allow such pleasures and William would never succumb to such behaviour. He was far too serious. He might, however, consider offering for her. Yes, the dutiful and honourable William Darcy might very well have fallen victim to Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s charms.
He wondered how he might use this knowledge to his best advantage. “William has ruined my attempt at matrimony; perhaps I might return the favour. What excellent revenge that would be!” he thought as he lay in his new bunk. He had been invited to a card party the following evening at the home of Mr. Phillips, who was the uncle of the lovely Bennet ladies. What better way to exact his revenge against his former friend than to turn his paramour against him?
~~~
Elizabeth had arrived at her Aunt Phillips’ house in Meryton. Her aunt had invited the sisters and Mr. Collins for an evening of cards and supper. Last evening, Mr. Collins had expounded on his admiration of Aunt Phillips, going on at length about his gratification with her excellent manners and how she had received him with the most elegant civility. Her Papa had been only too happy to consent to allowing his daughters to attend the card party at the Phillips’ house, if only to have the quiet and serenity of his house restored to him for a few hours.
Elizabeth had declined to join in the card games, content to sit nearby and observe. Aunt Phillips had also invited Mr. Denny and Mr. Wickham and she felt an eerie sensation wash over her as Mr. Wickham sat with her at the empty table and struck up a conversation: “How long has Mr. Darcy been in the area?” he inquired. She told him what she knew and was surprised to hear that Mr. Wickham and Mr. Darcy had been acquainted since their infancy. “I suspect you may have guessed that we were acquainted from the cold greeting I received yesterday,” he told her. She admitted that she was somewhat curious about the incident. “Are you very much acquainted with the gentleman?” he inquired.
“Our acquaintance is of short duration,” she replied.
“I have no right to give my opinion,” he began and then proceeded to do exactly that. His opinion of the gentleman was quite poor and he went on at length, telling the story of his childhood and the elder Mr. Darcy’s affections for him. He and the younger Mr. Darcy had attended university together, through the benevolence of the elder, and how the final bequest that had been intended for him had been disregarded by the son.
Elizabeth listened in rapt attention to the story of the living in the church that had been given to another man and could scarcely believe her ears. Could it be true? Could Mr. Darcy have wronged Mr. Wickham in such a heartless manner? As the story went on at length, she could help but feel nothing but sympathy for Mr. Wickham. He expressed himself so well and with such feeling, she could hardly doubt his sincerity. When he expressed his hesitation to challenge Mr. Darcy on the issue out of respect to the elder Darcy, she knew he must be the kindest, most forbearing man in the world.
“But would this make Mr. Darcy the cruellest, most intolerant man in the world?” she wondered. During their short acquaintance, she had thought Mr. Darcy to be a thoughtful and generous man. Had she been deceived?
“Mr. Darcy can please where he chooses,” Mr. Wickham told her.
“Did Mr. Darcy choose to please me?” she wondered.
There was no further opportunity for private conversation as the card games then broke up and supper was served. Her mind reeled with the information she had learned and she could scarcely wait to get home to discuss it with Jane.
Chapter 7: Netherfield Ball
George Wickham silently seethed at the sight before him; his militia comrades were shining their boots and coat buttons, making preparations to attend the Netherfield ball the following night. George had received no invitation and he suffered no doubts that William Darcy had used his considerable influence to ensure that no invitation would be extended to him.
All the men appeared to eagerly anticipate the ball and George was furious that he would be denied his three favourites; there was sure to be women, ale and gaming in abundance but George would have none. He had given some thought to attending the event anyway, claiming that the invitation must certainly have been intended for him, since everyone else in the local militia had been invited. He would enjoy the favours of the local ladies, the spirits which were certain to flow in abundance and the card games that would be established in the back rooms; it would be a most enjoyable evening made even more enjoyable by the certain displeasure of the proud gentleman from Derbyshire.
But after further consideration, George had thought better of defying his childhood friend; it would not do to raise William’s ire. He would simply take himself off to London and enjoy himself there for the evening. Perhaps he would even perfect his plan to turn the lovely Miss Elizabeth against William. Yes, it would be time well spent and he would give no further thought to his exclusion from the Netherfield event.
An aide then entered the men’s quarters and called for their attention; Colonel Forster needed a volunteer to deliver a dispatch to London headquarters. George immediately jumped to his feet: “I would be honoured to deliver the dispatch,” he announced.
He followed the aide to the Colonel’s office who greeted him with praise: “Ah, Lieutenant Wickham, an admirable effort indeed!” He gave George his instructions with the dispatch and twenty shillings for any expenses he might incur along the way; he was expected back at the encampment on Wednesday morning. George humbly thanked the Colonel and set out for the stables. As he set off toward the London Road, he thanked Lady Luck for smiling on him once again; he had every intention of spending as little of the money he had received from the Colonel on the trip. He would save that plus the few shillings he had borrowed from Denny for the gaming tables later that night.
He arrived at London headquarters in good time and delivered the dispatch. The men there seemed impressed with his efforts and invited him to dine with them in their dining hall. A free dinner suited George perfectly. While dining with his new acquaintances, George inquired if there might be a friendly card game in the vicinity and was told of a modest tavern in the area that offered such entertainment. He felt certain that the evening would be quite to his liking. With his pockets full of money, he was well prepared to indulge in his three favourite pastimes.
~~~
Darcy waited in an alcove at Netherfield, watching the ballroom door. Guests had begun arriving at the ball for the past half hour but none were the woman he sought. Despite the fact that the ladies were wearing their finery, elegantly adorned with elaborate coiffures, jewels and head pieces, Darcy noticed nothing out of the ordinary. The ladies met with no disapproval; he hardly noticed them at all. When Miss Elizabeth finally entered the ballroom, he felt a silly grin overtake his countenance. Master of his own emotions, he quickly schooled his features into a more appropriate mien. He watched her as she walked and knew that despite his earlier resolve to keep his distance, he would request a dance with her at the earliest opportunity. “Let tomorrow bring what it will but tonight I will dance with Miss Elizabeth,” he silently vowed.
~~~
After enduring a hectic day of preparations for the ball and an uncomfortable carriage ride with her squabbling sisters, Elizabeth finally entered the Netherfield ballroom arm-in-arm with Jane. Now that she was at the ball, nothing would deter her from her pursuit of enjoyment. Of course, she would first be required to endure a dance with her ridiculous cousin. He had requested the dance the same day they had received the invitation from Mr. Bingley. She had been disappointed at the time that Mr. Darcy had not accompanied his friends as they issued the invitations but Jane had insisted that as hosts of the event, the Bingleys had extended the invitation in every way proper.
The orchestra was playing a lively tune, flowers were elegantly arranged, candles flickered brightly creating a festive ambiance for the ball; however, Elizabeth noticed none of it. All she saw were two men staring at her from different vantage points; her cousin, Mr. Collins, who would be the first to claim her hand for a dance and Mr. Darcy, who gazed at her from across the room with the most severe, unapproachable countenance she had observed since the Meryton assembly. He bowed his head to acknowledge her and she returned the gesture. She could not help but think that this was the same disapproving man who had so cruelly injured Mr. Wickham.
She had so hoped to see the Lieutenant at the ball; if he requested a dance with her, all the better! But her Papa had warned her and her sisters against being in company with Mr. Wickham and indeed, they had not done so since the card party at Aunt Phillips’ house. Papa had been quite angry when she and her sisters had returned home that evening and Mr. Collins had recounted every detail of the evening. She had wondered why Papa had been so adamant about avoiding Mr. Wickham’s company but he had declined to explain his reasons, which was so unlike him. Papa had always been so forthcoming with her, she could only assume that the warning had come from Mr. Disapproving Darcy himself. Why he would wish her to avoid Mr. Wickham was somewhat unclear; he obviously had no intentions towards her, surely he would have called on her or declared himself if he had. Why he would interfere in a friendship with Mr. Wickham was a puzzlement.
She sighed; Mr. Wickham would not be in attendance this evening. On the ride from Longbourn, Papa had told her and her sisters that no invitation had been extended to the Lieutenant. Although Papa would not elaborate on the reason for the obvious omission, Elizabeth could not help but think that Mr. Darcy must have been the cause. Mr. Bingley was so agreeable and amiable; it was not in his nature to withhold an invitation to someone who was so well liked in the community. Elizabeth could only suppose that Mr. Bingley had been influenced by his friend.
She could not help but notice the bright red regimentals adorning the numerous militia members in attendance. “Invitations had been extended to those men, why was Mr. Wickham excluded?” she wondered. “He is just as agreeable and amiable as Mr. Bingley; certainly he should have just as much right to be invited as any other man in the militia, should he not? If not for Mr. Darcy, I would have the pleasure of dancing with the handsome Lieutenant this evening.”
She was interrupted from her musings when Mr. Collins came to claim her hand for the first set and she reluctantly allowed him to escort her to the dance floor. She was determined to enjoy herself that night and smiled happily as she observed Mr. Bingley claim Jane’s hand. She was content to know that Jane would be happy tonight. As the dance began, she attempted to keep her smile, despite the awkward movements of her partner. He was not an accomplished dancer and made no attempt to keep up with the other dancers. She could not help but notice his drab black attire; if not for Mr. Darcy’s interference, Mr. Wickham would be thusly attired. “Perhaps Mr. Wickham would not be as handsomely attired in the parson’s garb, but he would have the living that had been meant for him,” she thought as the dance continued.
She spied Mr. Darcy as he stood near the window observing the dance. How she wished to confront him on the matter of Mr. Wickham. Well, perhaps confronting him was not exactly what she desired; that would be too intrusive but she did wish to hear his side of the story. Of course, the events that were relayed to her by Mr. Wickham were none of Elizabeth’s concern but she could not help but feel concern for the gentleman’s plight. If Jane was correct in her assumption that Mr. Darcy’s role in the event must have a perfectly reasonable explanation, Elizabeth would certainly like to learn of it. She could scarcely forget the despair that emanated from the Lieutenant’s eyes and the quiver in his voice as he explained the ordeal that he had gone through. Nor could she forget the handsome countenance and the fine form he presented in his splendid regimentals.
She had hoped that upon seeing Mr. Darcy’s eyes, she would know in an instant if he had indeed harmed Mr. Wickham. She had resigned herself to wait for that enlightenment until the day of the ball. However, as she observed Mr. Darcy standing near the window observing the activities, his eyes revealed no secrets.
~~~
Darcy watched Miss Elizabeth as she entered Netherfield for the ball. He had come to admire her greatly but feared raising her expectations. He would be leaving Netherfield in the morning with Charles Bingley, he had decided. Remaining here in Hertfordshire with her in such close proximity would benefit neither of them. He would return to his life in London and Derbyshire with the memory of a remarkable woman; he wished nothing but the best for her and her future. Since it was unlikely that he would ever see her again, he thought it harmless to dance with her one last time. He waited until she approached the refreshment table with her friends and requested the next dance with her. She bestowed her warmest smile on him and graciously accepted.
After the dance began, she broke the silence: “I hope you will not think me impertinent if I ask a question,” she suggested.
“You may ask me any question of your desire,” he told her.
“How do you know Mr. Wickham?” she inquired as they grasped hands and went down the dance together.
He did not think her impertinent but wondered what tales Wickham had told her: “He is the son of my father’s steward. We are nearly the same age and grew up together at Pemberley,” he told her.
“Was your father fond of him?” she further inquired.
How he wished to discuss anything but Wickham: “My father bestowed many favours on him and even sent him to university,” he told her.
“And did he provide Mr. Wickham with a living?” she pressed him further.
“The living again,” he thought. “Mr. Wickham is fond of promoting the story that I denied him a living but you must not readily believe everything he tells you, Miss Elizabeth,” he warned her as he circled around her.
“Must I readily believe everything that you tell me, Mr. Darcy?” she inquired.
He noticed that she withheld her usual smiles from him: “I hope you would,” he replied.
“How am I to know which of you is telling the truth?” she inquired.
“I shall leave that to your own discernment,” he replied, now clearly annoyed with the turn the conversation had taken.
“I have no reason to dispute Mr. Wickham’s story,” she boldly told him.
The music came to an end, signalling the end of the first dance in the set, however, he found himself unable to continue the dance. He attempted to control his anger at her assumption and clenched his teeth: “Do you think me the type of son to disregard his father’s final wishes?” he coldly asked.
~~~
Elizabeth noticed the fury in his eyes where she had so frequently seen affectionate regard and knew instantly that she had misjudged him. Before she was able to respond to his question, he bowed curtly and walked away through an open door to a balcony. She was filled with regret and stood near the open door of the balcony. It was a chilly night and the cool breeze that blew in through the door caused her to tremble. Perhaps it was the breeze or perhaps it was the fact that she had jeopardized her friendship with a kind and generous gentleman based on the information told to her by someone with whom she enjoyed only a passing acquaintance. Someone who obviously held the gentleman in contempt and sought to discredit him by any means necessary.
Whatever Mr. Darcy’s intentions had been towards her before, there was certainly no possibility that he would forgive her for this transgression. She knew not the truth of the story but knew that Mr. Darcy must be held blameless of any wrongdoing; he was an honourable gentleman and would always conduct himself accordingly, regardless of Mr. Wickham’s claims against him. Without his ever mentioning his father, she knew that he was the type of son to honour his father by fulfilling his final wishes. If the living had not been bestowed on the Lieutenant according to the bequest, there had to be a perfectly reasonable explanation for it. That reason, she knew, was Mr. Darcy’s private business and he was under no obligation to divulge it to her or to anyone. She determined at that moment to ensure that every one of her acquaintances would know that of the two gentlemen from Derbyshire, Mr. Darcy was the better man.
She stood at the entrance to the balcony, knowing that she should not join him; it would not do to be seen unescorted with the gentleman. However, she was unable to resist and walked outdoors to find him gazing up at the stars. She stood next to him and admired the vastness of the night sky. She wondered if he also took comfort in the view. “You asked me a question, Mr. Darcy, and I feel obliged to give you my answer,” she told him.
He shook his head: “Please do not give it another thought, Miss Elizabeth,” he told her, without turning his gaze towards her.
“I do not believe that you would disregard your father’s final wishes,” she told him with all sincerity. He kept his eyes averted. “I apologize, Mr. Darcy, I see now that I was mistaken. I know you well enough to know that you are being truthful,” she told him, filled with remorse.
He simply nodded: “Let me assure you that your friend is not graced with that particular virtue. The truth of the matter is that he was paid the value of the living by his own demand, which satisfied my father’s bequest,” he calmly told her.
“Just as I suspected, a perfectly reasonable explanation,” she thought. “I should not have believed his story. I feel quite foolish for being taken in by it,” she whispered.
~~~
He then turned to face her: “You are not the first young lady that he has deceived and I suspect many more will fall victim to his charm,” he told her, gazing into her eyes and observing the remorse she held there.
