Author's note: large parts of this story are taken directly from Jane Austen's original novel. What happens the same as in the original I have left in Jane Austen's words. I have chosen not to italicize or otherwise distinguish her writing from mine, as I find that it detracts from the reading experience, but I trust my readers will be able to tell easily enough what is copied, and what is new. As the story progresses, more and more should change, but even then, quite a lot will remain the same. What changes in my story is that Wickham, as the title suggests, "mends his ways". No other characters change, except to the extent in which their actions or beliefs are in response to Wickham.
My story starts halfway through chapter 15 of the original novel, after Mr. Collins has arrived, and right before the Bennet sisters meet Mr. Wickham. If you are not familiar with what happens before that, then why on earth are you wasting time reading this story!? Stop right now, and go read Pride and Prejudice!
This is my first time posting a story, so please be nice, but comments and constructive criticism are welcome!
Chapter 1
(Pride and Prejudice chapters 15 and 16)
"He is now, perhaps, sorry for what he has done, and anxious to re-establish a character" -Jane Bennet, Pride and Prejudice chapter 40
Lydia's intention of walking to Meryton was not forgotten; every sister except Mary agreed to go with her; and Mr. Collins was to attend them, at the request of Mr. Bennet, who was most anxious to get rid of him, and have his library to himself; for thither Mr. Collins had followed him after breakfast; and there he would continue, nominally engaged with one of the largest folios in the collection, but really talking to Mr. Bennet, with little cessation, of his house and garden at Hunsford. Such doings discomposed Mr. Bennet exceedingly. In his library he had been always sure of leisure and tranquillity; and though prepared, as he told Elizabeth, to meet with folly and conceit in every other room of the house, he was used to be free from them there; his civility, therefore, was most prompt in inviting Mr. Collins to join his daughters in their walk; and Mr. Collins, being in fact much better fitted for a walker than a reader, was extremely pleased to close his large book, and go.
In pompous nothings on his side, and civil assents on that of his cousins, their time passed till they entered Meryton. The attention of the younger ones was then no longer to be gained by him. Their eyes were immediately wandering up in the street in quest of the officers, and nothing less than a very smart bonnet indeed, or a really new muslin in a shop window, could recall them.
But the attention of every lady was soon caught by a young man, whom they had never seen before, of most gentlemanlike appearance, walking with another officer on the other side of the way. The officer was the very Mr. Denny concerning whose return from London Lydia came to inquire, and he bowed as they passed. All were struck with the stranger's air, all wondered who he could be; and Kitty and Lydia, determined if possible to find out, led the way across the street, under pretence of wanting something in an opposite shop, and fortunately had just gained the pavement when the two gentlemen, turning back, had reached the same spot. Mr. Denny addressed them directly, and entreated permission to introduce his friend, Mr. Wickham, who had returned with him the day before from town, and he was happy to say had accepted a commission in their corps. This was exactly as it should be; for the young man wanted only regimentals to make him completely charming. His appearance was greatly in his favour; he had all the best part of beauty, a fine countenance, a good figure, and very pleasing address. The introduction was followed up on his side by a happy readiness of conversation—a readiness at the same time perfectly correct and unassuming; and the whole party were still standing and talking together very agreeably, when the sound of horses drew their notice, and Darcy and Bingley were seen riding down the street. On distinguishing the ladies of the group, the two gentlemen came directly towards them, and began the usual civilities. Bingley was the principal spokesman, and Miss Bennet the principal object. He was then, he said, on his way to Longbourn on purpose to inquire after her. Mr. Darcy corroborated it with a bow, and was beginning to determine not to fix his eyes on Elizabeth, they were suddenly arrested by the sight of the stranger, and Elizabeth happening to see the countenance of both as they looked at each other, was all astonishment at the effect of the meeting. Both changed colour, one looked white, the other red. Mr. Wickham, after a few moments, offered a bow—a salutation which Mr. Darcy just deigned to return with a touch to his hat. What could be the meaning of it?—It was impossible to imagine; it was impossible not to long to know.
In another minute, Mr. Bingley, but without seeming to have noticed what passed, took leave and rode on with his friend.
Mr. Denny and Mr. Wickham walked with the young ladies to the door of Mr. Philips's house, and then made their bows, in spite of Miss Lydia's pressing entreaties that they should come in, and even in spite of Mrs. Philips's throwing up the parlour window and loudly seconding the invitation.
Mrs. Philips was always glad to see her nieces; and the two eldest, from their recent absence, were particularly welcome, and she was eagerly expressing her surprise at their sudden return home, which, as their own carriage had not fetched them, she should have known nothing about, if she had not happened to see Mr. Jones's shop-boy in the street, who told her that they were not to send any more draughts to Netherfield because the Miss Bennets were come away, when her civility was claimed towards Mr. Collins by Jane's introduction of him. She received him with her very best politeness, which he returned with as much more, apologising for his intrusion, without any previous acquaintance with her, which he could not help flattering himself, however, might be justified by his relationship to the young ladies who introduced him to her notice. Mrs. Philips was quite awed by such an excess of good breeding; but her contemplation of one stranger was soon put to an end by exclamations and inquiries about the other, of whom, however, she could only tell her nieces what they already knew, that Mr. Denny had brought him from London, and that he was to have a lieutenant's commission in the —shire. She had been watching him the last hour, she said, as he walked up and down the street, and had Mr. Wickham appeared, Kitty and Lydia would certainly have continued the occupation, but unluckily no one passed windows now except a few of the officers, who, in comparison with the stranger, were become "stupid, disagreeable fellows." Some of them were to dine with the Philipses the next day, and their aunt promised to make her husband call on Mr. Wickham, and give him an invitation also, if the family from Longbourn would come in the evening. This was agreed to, and Mrs. Philips protested that they would have a nice comfortable noisy game of lottery tickets, and a little bit of hot supper afterwards. The prospect of such delights was very cheering, and they parted in mutual good spirits. Mr. Collins repeated his apologies in quitting the room, and was assured with unwearying civility that they were perfectly needless.
As they walked home, Elizabeth related to Jane what she had seen pass between the two gentlemen; but though Jane would have defended either or both, had they appeared to be in the wrong, she could no more explain such behaviour than her sister.
Mr. Collins on his return highly gratified Mrs. Bennet by admiring Mrs. Philips's manners and politeness. He protested that, except Lady Catherine and her daughter, he had never seen a more elegant woman; for she had not only received him with the utmost civility, but even pointedly included him in her invitation for the next evening, although utterly unknown to her before. Something, he supposed, might be attributed to his connection with them, but yet he had never met with so much attention in the whole course of his life.
As no objection was made to the young people's engagement with their aunt, and all Mr. Collins's scruples of leaving Mr. and Mrs. Bennet for a single evening during his visit were most steadily resisted, the coach conveyed him and his five cousins at a suitable hour to Meryton; and the girls had the pleasure of hearing, as they entered the drawing-room, that Mr. Wickham had accepted their uncle's invitation, and was then in the house.
When this information was given, and they had all taken their seats, Mr. Collins was at leisure to look around him and admire, and he was so much struck with the size and furniture of the apartment, that he declared he might almost have supposed himself in the small summer breakfast parlour at Rosings; a comparison that did not at first convey much gratification; but when Mrs. Philips understood from him what Rosings was, and who was its proprietor, when she had listened to the description of only one of Lady Catherine's drawing-rooms, and found that the chimney-piece alone had cost eight hundred pounds, she felt all the force of the compliment, and would hardly have resented a comparison with the housekeeper's room.
In describing to her all the grandeur of Lady Catherine and her mansion, with occasional digressions in praise of his own humble abode, and the improvements it was receiving, he was happily employed until the gentlemen joined them; and he found in Mrs. Philips a very attentive listener, whose opinion of his consequence increased with what she heard, and who was resolving to retail it all among her neighbours as soon as she could. To the girls, who could not listen to their cousin, and who had nothing to do but to wish for an instrument, and examine their own indifferent imitations of china on the mantelpiece, the interval of waiting appeared very long. It was over at last however. The gentlemen did approach; and when Mr. Wickham walked into the room, Elizabeth felt that she had neither been seeing him before, nor thinking of him since, with the smallest degree of unreasonable admiration. The officers of the —shire were in general a very creditable, gentlemanlike set, and the best of them were of the present party; but Mr. Wickham was as far beyond them all in person, countenance, air, and walk, as they were superior to the broad-faced stuffy uncle Philips, breathing port wine, who followed them into the room.
Mr. Wickham was the happy man towards whom almost every female eye was turned, and Elizabeth was the happy woman by whom he finally seated himself; and the agreeable manner in which he immediately fell into conversation, though it was only on its being a wet night, made her feel that the commonest, dullest, most threadbare topic might be rendered interesting by the skill of the speaker.
With such rivals for the notice of the fair, as Mr. Wickham and the officers, Mr. Collins seemed to sink into insignificance; to the young ladies he certainly was nothing; but he had still at intervals a kind listener in Mrs. Philips, and was, by her watchfulness, most abundantly supplied with coffee and muffin.
When the card tables were placed, he had the opportunity of obliging her in return, by sitting down to whist.
"I know little of the game, at present," said he, "but I shall be glad to improve myself, for in my situation in life—" Mrs. Phillips was very thankful for his compliance, but could not wait for his reason.
Mr. Wickham did not play at whist, and, despite Lydia's eager encouragement, he also declined to join the other table, where there was to be a game of lottery tickets, for, as he explained to Elizabeth "I have overindulged in games of chance in the past, and now find it wisest to abstain from them entirely."
"Recognizing one's weaknesses in a necessary and admirable step in the fight against temptation" intoned Mary. Elizabeth was surprised to hear her sister, for she had not noticed that she was close enough to hear the conversation. Though she thought she espied a similar emotion in the gentleman's features, it was fleeting, and he replied with equanimity: "Indeed, I have found it to be so, Miss Mary. But it does not follow that I should keep your from enjoying the game." This last, directed to both of the ladies.
Elizabeth however found that she much preferred to converse with her new acquaintance than listen to Lydia making bets and exclaiming after prizes, and according replied:
"I am not nearly as fond of cards as my sister Lydia. In fact, I have recently been accused of the most singular attribute of preferring reading to cards! And it would not do for you to sit by yourself on your first evening in Meryton society."
"As for me, although I do not wish to depreciate such pleasures as are enjoyed by the majority of society, I much prefer a book or an edifying conversation" said Mary.
"I am much obliged" the gentleman replied. "Are you then both great readers?"
The conversation continued for some time on the topic of books, on which Mr. Wickham spoke intelligently and with great knowledge, an ability that he attributed to the generosity of his late godfather, who had insured that he receive a gentleman's education. He even managed to engage Mary in the conversation. Indeed, Elizabeth could not think of a time she had seen Mary so at ease while in company. Impressed as she was with Mr. Wickham's skills in conversation, what she chiefly wished to hear she could not hope to be told, the history of his acquaintance with Mr. Darcy. She dared not even mention that gentleman. Her curiosity however was unexpectedly relieved. When, and one point, Mary was called away by their aunt, Mr. Wickham began the subject himself. He inquired how far Netherfield was from Meryton; and, after receiving her answer, asked in a hesitating manner how long Mr. Darcy had been staying there.
"About a month," said Elizabeth; and then, unwilling to let the subject drop, added, "He is a man of very large property in Derbyshire, I understand."
"Yes," replied Mr. Wickham;—"his estate there is a noble one. A clear ten thousand per annum. You could not have met with a person more capable of giving you certain information on that head than myself—for I have been connected with his family in a particular manner from my infancy."
Elizabeth could not but look surprised.
"You may well be surprised, Miss Bennet, at such an assertion, after seeing, as you probably might, the very cold manner of our meeting yesterday.—Are you much acquainted with Mr. Darcy?"
"As much as I ever wish to be," cried Elizabeth warmly.—"I have spent four days in the same house with him, and I think him very disagreeable."
"Perhaps I have known him too long to be impartial, but it pains me to hear such an opinion" said Wickham. I have found him to always be a generous and honourable man, and opinion that I think is universally shared amongst his friends and acquaintances. I believe your opinion of him would in general astonish."
"Upon my word I say no more than you might hear in any house in the neighbourhood, except Netherfield. He is not at all liked in Hertfordshire. Everybody is disgusted with his pride. You will not find him more favourably spoken of by any one."
"I am sorry," said Wickham, after a short pause, "to hear that. Though perhaps his reticence and imposing manners do not make him the easiest man to get to know, upon longer acquaintance he is invariably found to be liberal-minded, just, sincere, rational, honourable, and even agreeable."
"I should take him, even on my slight acquaintance, to be an ill-tempered man."
Wickham shook his head. "I have never known him to be angry with anyone who did not deserve it. He is liberal and generous,—he is known to give his money freely, to display hospitality, to assist his tenants, and relieve the poor. He is the best of friends and the best of masters. He has also great brotherly pride and affection, which makes him a very kind and careful guardian of his sister; and you will hear him generally cried up as the most attentive and best of brothers."
"What sort of girl is Miss Darcy?"
He smiled sadly.—"She is amiable, though very shy. As a child, she was affectionate and pleasing, and extremely fond of me. Now she is a handsome girl, about fifteen or sixteen, and highly accomplished. Since her father's death, Mr. Darcy has been as much of a parent as a sibling to her, and has taken great care of her. He is rightly very proud of his sister."
Elizabeth, astonished at such a glowing appraisal of Mr. Darcy's character, could not help but add "He hardly seemed to treat you with generosity or kindness."
"I am ashamed to admit that his greeting yesterday was no less than I deserved. Both he and his father—my godfather —treated me most generously, and I repaid their generosity in the worst of ways."
Elizabeth found the interest of the subject increase, and though her imagination ran rampant, for what possibly could such a gentlemanly man as Wickham have done to think he deserved Mr. Darcy's ill will? But the delicacy of it prevented further inquiry. The conversation had already stretched the boundaries of propriety.
Mr. Wickham began to speak on more general topics, Meryton, the neighbourhood, the society, appearing highly pleased with all that he had yet seen, and speaking of the latter with gentle but very intelligible gallantry.
"It was the prospect of good society and honourable employment," he added, "which was my inducement to enter the —shire. I knew it to be a most respectable, agreeable corps, and my friend Denny tempted me further by his account of their present quarters, and the very great attentions and excellent acquaintances Meryton had procured them. Society, I own, is necessary to me. If left to myself, I dwell too much on mistakes of the past."
The whist party soon afterwards breaking up, the players gathered round the other table. Mr. Wickham and Elizabeth joined them, and Mr. Collins took his station between his cousin Elizabeth and Mrs. Philips.—The usual inquiries as to his success was made by the latter. It had not been very great; he had lost every point; but when Mrs. Philips began to express her concern thereupon, he assured her with much earnest gravity that it was not of the least importance, that he considered the money as a mere trifle, and begged that she would not make herself uneasy.
"I know very well, madam," said he, "that when persons sit down to a card table, they must take their chances of these things,—and happily I am not in such circumstances as to make five shillings any object. There are undoubtedly many who could not say the same, but thanks to Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I am removed far beyond the necessity of regarding little matters."
Mr. Wickham's attention was caught; and after observing Mr. Collins for a few moments, he asked Elizabeth in a low voice whether her relation was very intimately acquainted with the family of De Bourgh.
"Lady Catherine de Bourgh," she replied, "has very lately given him a living. I hardly know how Mr. Collins was first introduced to her notice, but he certainly has not known her long."
"You know of course that Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Lady Anne Darcy were sisters; consequently that she is aunt to the present Mr. Darcy."
"No, indeed, I did not.—I knew nothing at all of Lady Catherine's connections. I never heard of her existence till the day before yesterday. Though since then I have heard a great deal. Mr. Collins, speaks highly both of Lady Catherine and her daughter; but from some particulars that he has related of her ladyship, I suspect his gratitude misleads him, and that in spite of her being his patroness, she is an arrogant, conceited woman. But perhaps I am as mistaken in her character as I have been in her nephew's?"
"No, her character I believe you have drawn quite faithfully," replied Wickham with a smile; "I have not seen her for many years, but I very well remember that I never liked her, and that her manners were dictatorial and insolent."
Elizabeth felt her confidence in her judgement somewhat restored, and they continued talking together, with mutual satisfaction till supper put an end to cards, and gave the rest of the ladies their share of Mr. Wickham's attentions. There could be no conversation in the noise of Mrs. Philips's supper party, but his manners recommended him to everybody. Whatever he said, was said well; and whatever he did, done gracefully. 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 home; but there was not time for her even to mention his name as they went, for neither Lydia nor Mr. Collins were once silent. But the topic of Mr. Wickham was not entirely ignored, for Lydia herself mention him.
"It is a shame that Wickham turned out to be such a dull fellow. I was quite prepared to like him prodigiously, but then he would not play cards! How very prudish of him! I shall have to scold Denny for bringing him here."
Mary, who up until then had been ignoring the conversation in favour of a book, disagreed. "I think it shows a great moral fibre! There are more important things in life than cards!"
Lydia laughed at this. "La! You can have him then, Mary, though he is much too handsome for you!"
The rest of the ride home was uneventful. Lydia, tired of the topic of a gentleman who showed her no special attention, talked incessantly of lottery tickets, of the fish she had lost and the fish she had won; and Mr. Collins, in describing the civility of Mr. and Mrs. Philips, protesting that he did not in the least regard his losses at whist, enumerating all the dishes at supper, and repeatedly fearing that he crowded his cousins, had more to say than he could well manage before the carriage stopped at Longbourn House.