So when I started writing this story I expected it to be more of a light-hearted romp with some fun references to the movies that inspired it, but as often seems to happen with me, the characters had other ideas. I honestly did not anticipate the backstory of the Darcy-Wickham relationship that has evolved here or how it would set the stage for where they both are when we meet them in P&P.
The Bible verses quoted are from KJV as that's the version that was around in this era.
I had this chapter in what I thought was basically a finished state last night but wasn't happy with its direction (too preachy, not enough plot advancement) so I put off posting until this morning to see if I could come up with anything better and yet again my mind right upon waking had the answer for how the chapter should conclude and getting from where I was last night to there basically doubled the length of this chapter and changed the tone a lot.
By the way, I learned that the red squirrel, the only squirrel native to England, is now considered "near threatened" due to the introduction of the grey squirrel in the 1870s.
The discussion of Wickham's mother's actions were partially inspired by things my daughter has told me about what her birth mother did, adapted appropriately for the era.
Chapter 10
"Do you need to see anymore from your past?" Rebecca gently asked him, compassion in her eyes.
"No," he told her while he continued to stare at the burning boats, hearing his younger self's sobs. "Fitz never did apologize; he never wavered from believing he was in the right. We never played together of our own accord after that, though our fathers were always trying to push us together."
He turned to look at his younger self, crying and coughing.
"I cannot bear to see myself so miserable anymore." He turned to face Rebecca instead. If only I could close my ears so that I did not need to hear his misery, my past misery.
"Do you know that I was out of bed for hours and suffered a setback afterwards? If I had cried out, someone might have found me sooner, but I was embarrassed that they would see I had been crying. I do not think my deterioration was from being out of bed but from my misery. I never told anyone why I got up, only that I thought I could. I never told anyone about what he did to the boats or what he said. I never even told anyone but Mr. Darcy exactly what happened. I kept it secret. I was not ashamed of what I did, but I was ashamed of what came of it."
"Yes, we can leave," Rebecca responded, " but I would like to take you somewhere else that we can talk. Where would you like to go?"
"It does not matter," Wickham answered, "just any place but here."
When the mist cleared, Wickham found himself in a beautiful wilderness all lush greens with exotic plants. The forest was so dense he could only see small patches of blue sky and a slight edge of the sun peaking out overhead. He could hear the cries of birds he had never heard before and something was scampering around above his head. It was most unfamiliar.
"Where are we?" Wickham asked, looking around.
"In the forests of Costa Rica," she replied. "I did not want to bring you to any place where you might have sad memories."
"It is lovely here," he said as he sat down on a mossy log. As he was rather warm, he loosened his cravet and removed his coat, setting it down beside him. "Thank you."
Rebecca sat down across from him. A small shaft of sunlight hit her face and he found himself thinking that her current form was apt. She appeared beatific.
Wickham heard a chattering noise and looked back up at the brown creature scampering above him. It seemed quite lively and cheerful, like a squirrel, but its size, limbs and coloring were all wrong. He was glad for the distraction as he did not want to talk about his past.
"What is that?"
Rebecca glanced up, "It is a spider monkey; they are but one of the many types of animals who dwell here. But we are not here to talk about the creatures of the forest."
Wickham looked back down at his pants; he idly noticed that the coat he had set down had vanished. He supposed it might be because he stopped thinking about it once he put it down. It did not matter as he was not really there and that coat was a memory of a coat he had once owned. He knew he was using the monkey and now his missing coat to not think about the past.
"You did a very great thing in rescuing your friend from his own stupidity," Rebecca told him. "You were ready to die for him, though he did not deserve it."
"Why must we talk about such things?" He asked her. "It was difficult enough to experience them again. It did confirm for me that Fitz was just as bad as I remember him being, perhaps worse. No, he did not want me to die, did help me out of the pond in the end and did fetch help, but he blamed me for everything. I did appreciate learning how much the others did to help me and how much Mr. Darcy cared for me. How different things might have been between me and Fitz if he had just apologized, and how wondrous if he had given me the man-o-war as his father wanted him to do. He did not have to burn our boats, Mr. Darcy was not going to take them away. Why did I have to suffer for my good deed while he escaped unscathed for his bad deed."
"Darcy did suffer much for what he did to you over the years," she responded, "and you did much of the punishing."
"And he deserved everything I gave him and more. Perhaps you should be trying to save his soul instead of mine."
Rebecca shook her head lightly, the small bits of her whitish hair which had escaped from her bun floating around her head like a halo. Rebecca resolved that Wickham should learn just one lesson on this day and endeavored to teach him that it was not his place to punish Darcy for his transgressions. "The word of God says, 'Bless them which persecute you: bless, and curse not.' and also 'avenge not yourselves, but rather give place onto wrath, for as it is written: Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.' Those verses are from Romans 12:14 and 19."
"But he received no punishment," Wickham protested. "His life continued to be blessed while mine was cursed. I received the punishment due him in full measure. Not only did I suffer the pain of my illness, but due to the length of time my recovery took and all the lessons I missed, I was ill-prepared for Eton the following fall and also ill-equipped for sport. I was made fun of for being slow to master the coursework and of no use on the field. Having not the same quick intellect as Darcy, I suffered much from entering school already behind and bearing the baggage of my background. He was a model student, always earning the approbation of those who taught us. I had trouble remembering my Latin."
Rebecca responded to him, "Are you familiar with the Psalms that King David wrote?"
Wickham nodded. He could tell she was about to quote more Bible verses at him and prepared himself to ignore them. However, there was something in her look, so earnest and caring both at the same time that caused him to pay further attention.
"David in the Bible was oppressed, he wrote in Psalm 35:12, 'They rewarded me evil for good to the spoiling of my soul' does that not sound familiar? However, he urged God to judge them. He asked in verse 26, '[l]et them be ashamed and brought to confusion together that rejoice at mine hurt: let then be clothed with shame and dishonour that magnify themselves against me.' Why did you not call on God for help instead of trying to punish Darcy yourself? I tell you that Satan and his minions were whispering in your ear about the unfairness of it all and convinced you that you had the right to exact revenge upon him, and what did it gain you but a darkened heart which has spread evil and rejected good. Has punishing Darcy and living a life of dissipation ever made you happy?"
Wickham thought about that for a while. Had he been happy? He had enjoyed seeing Darcy's torment, but that had always quickly faded away. He had experienced brief moments of euphoria when winning while gambling at cards and enjoying women, but at the same time he had been quite lonely.
"I never expected to be happy," he finally answered, "I just hoped that he never would be and I think I mostly succeeded in that."
"Darcy has had much unhappiness," Rebecca confirmed, "over the years he faced recriminations from his conscience about how he treated you, but by returning evil for his evil, you gave him everything he needed to conclude that you deserved just what you got out of life. Now that he has humbled himself to Miss Elizabeth Bennet, he may yet be redeemed from his past transgressions and find his happiness in this world."
"That is not fair!" Wickham exclaimed. Rebecca read all the signs of his anger and envy in his flushed face, could feel his increased heart and more rapid breathing, and had intimate knowledge of his emotions from his thoughts. Though he did not speak them for her to hear, he practically shouted, He does not deserve her; why should he get the best Bennet sister while I have the worst one? Wickham imagined Darcy and the future Mrs. Darcy in their marital bed; he imagined Darcy doing everything to Elizabeth that Wickham had done with Lydia and imagined that Elizabeth would not only be as accommodating and generous in her affections as his own Lydia, but afterwards she would be pleasant to converse with and loyal, too. He imagined an idealized version of Darcy's and Elizabeth's lives together at Pemberley, all leisure, lovely meals with lively conversation from Elizabeth, fine clothing, doting servants and each night Elizabeth waiting eagerly for only Darcy in their large and splendid bed. While Darcy would be enjoying all of this, Wickham imagined himself drilling with his regiment in the rain and the mud, and as the standard bearer being responsible for the flag, the flag and its staff growing ever heavier as the rain soaked it, while Lydia in the guise of being helpful flirted with a wounded soldier and leaned over him to give him a full view of her decolletage, which he then reached out to touch. Darcy could have his wife and afford as many mistresses as he wanted, while Wickham might occasionally have the funds to indulge in a cheap whore.
He was interrupted from his musings when Rebecca shouted, "Enough! Stop thinking about what may be for him and think about the life that you can make for yourself in the here and now." She then added, in a more even tone, "Did your parents never teach you that life is seldom fair?"
"They did not have to teach me that; I learned it every day seeing what Fitz had and I did not. I saw everything he had; I received his leavings, his crumbs. Almost every toy and item of clothing I owned was his first. My mother had nice things made for herself, but it was not even she who made over the clothing for me. It was the single maid in our employ, a maid of all trade and an expert in none, who took them in and shortened them, for as a lad he was always taller and a bit stout while I was quite thin. However, she never quite got the fit right; some items ended up still too long, which time might remedy; others too wide still or with stitches pulling loose and she seldom cared to make over more than two or three sets of clothes as they interrupted her other duties, so while I could have had dozens of items like Fitz, instead they sat unused until they were too small and another load of Fitz's clothes were delivered."
"That must have been difficult," Rebecca said, taking Wickham's hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
If she thinks that is all I have to say on this subject, she knows nothing about me.
Wickham continued to tell her everything, he could not help himself. He told her things that he had never told another. It seemed that once the dam had broken the subsequent flood of sharing was inevitable.
"And do you know what my mother did then? She had her maid sell those clothes that I had never gotten to wear, and used the profits for herself. In her later years they were used to buy her laudanum, she liked to remain always slightly fuzzy from the many drops she took interspersed throughout the day. She might eat her large meal while I was being tutored and then, if it was on a night that my father was likely to dine with Mr. Darcy (which he did when the demands of the estate were at its peak in certain seasons) give the rest to the maid as she sent her off so that she could indulge in still further drops of laudanum, leaving nothing for me to eat that night or for breakfast the following morning."
The look Rebecca gave him was so compassionate, Wickham had to look away so he did not cry, but continued his recitation. Rebecca could feel the hurt child he had been, who still dwelled within the man before her.
"I used to go to Pemberley quite early in the morning, as if I was early enough I could breakfast with Fitz and our tutor, and then the tea I took with Darcy and our tutor might be my last chance at decent sustenance that day, yet I was always careful not to take too many biscuits or cakes, for I did not want to lose my dignity, too. And somehow my father did not notice any of this and indulged her further, she was always begging him to buy her more laudanum or more useless bobbles and he kept supplying them. And the times that he refused, when he was gone for the day she would have her maid sell our items to purchase what she wanted, but it could not be anything that my father would miss, so it ended up being often my limited possessions instead. Thanks be to God that I recovered at Pemberley from my extended illness, where I was provided both the medicines and food that I needed. I gained weight while abed there, but lost much of it once I returned to my family's home. It was not until I was away at school with more regular meals that I finally filled out for good, but then that meant my clothes became too tight and I had to wait for my vacation for the maid to fix others of Fitz's old ones to accommodate my growing body."
"Truly you suffered much as a child," she offered. He only heard her words and could not see her expression as now his eyes were following the spider monkey above him; the monkey seemed so free and unimpeded by anything.
"Does not what Darcy did to you while yet a child pale in comparison to the deprivation from your parents?"
"No!" He shouted, turning back to stare at her with baleful eyes. "I knew what they were like, it was all I knew. I knew Fitz was proud and stubborn, but he had also been my friend, someone I could count on and when I was playing with him, sharing his toys and all the bounty that Pemberley had to offer, I had more dignity. He took that all away when he refused to be my friend. From then on I felt the interloper."
"We shall never settle this tonight," Rebecca offered, giving his hand another squeeze, "but I have a request for you that I think will truly help you."
Wickham looked at her, his eyes more sad than angry now. I just know she will ask me to pray, ask God's forgiveness for my wrongs; she can forget me doing that. Perhaps I should ask for him to strike Darcy down. He imagined a bolt of lightning hitting Darcy on his backside, or perhaps it could sizzle his "sword" instead. The thought lightened his mood and his eyes softened.
"Share what you have told me, what you experienced as a child with Lydia. She knows so little of the man she married, but as your wife she is to be your helpmate, and she can help you by sharing this burden with you."
"So are my visions are over for tonight?" Wickham inquired. He did not want to commit to telling Lydia anything, but resolved to consider it. He owed Rebecca that much.
"Yes," Rebecca confirmed, "I believe you have experienced more than enough for one night. While this may feel as it has been hours for you, not much time has passed in your life. Try to sleep and consider these matters further. When I think you are ready, I will return to give you a vision of the present. Are you ready to return to your bed?"
Wickham felt a very real weariness steal over him. He had been holding it back, all his strong emotions countering it. He thought he might indeed sleep.
"Yes."
Rebecca continued to hold his hand as the mist formed and he returned to darkness, the darkness of closed eyes at night.
"Open your eyes," she said.
He opened them, blinked a few times, looked over to where he had seen Rebecca standing earlier, saw a faint shimmer that he believed was her, and then it was gone. Wickham turned back toward his sleeping wife, snuggled into her back and snaked an arm around her. With many thoughts still swirling in his mind, he drifted off to sleep.
