Guest, thanks for your well wishes, unfortunately I am still being plagued by my horrible cold and I have now completely lost my voice. I had a productive day at work and actually feel better today but will probably be taking a sick day tomorrow as the squeak that passed for my voice was scaring everyone. Hey, at least I can still write!
Guest, yes Darcy will get to understand Wickham's POV better though imperfectly through Bingley (see the chapter below). Liysyl and Gedoena, I have wondered why Darcy didn't tell Bingley earlier, too, so was glad to get a partial answer here. Nanciellen, thanks as always for your encouragement. DaisyDawn82, thanks so much and glad you have joined us. Yes, Gedoena, Darcy is the same Darcy we are just getting Wickham's take and Haruko Higugashi you are meant to be disquieted, Wickham is not supposed to be as good as Darcy, he is an unreliable narrator and this is largely from his POV (but also Rebecca's and later Muck's). Happywife, I enjoyed writing the different perspectives and imagined Wickham responding to Darcy as if it was a play with a spotlight on two scenes, a sort of bi-monologue if there is such a thing. In fact I can imagine most of this story in my head as a play, with certain scenes projected on a screen behind the actors as they comment on it and that's been rather fun to visualize. Guests, glad you are invested, so here is an update for you.
"I have a few questions," Bingley commented.
"Ask away," Darcy responded. As Darcy had been giving his account he had a certain nervous energy, but once he completed it he seemed more relaxed and at ease. He was now turned toward Bingley instead of toward the fire.
Bingley steepled his fingers and then cracked his knuckles. He straightened himself up and then asked, "Did you have any supervision or rules when playing on the estate?"
"No one was assigned to watch us if that is what you are getting at. We shared a tutor but he helped with bookkeeping in the afternoons. I had not had a governess for years. Any of the staff would have assisted us if needed, but no one was necessarily nearby while we played. We were to stay with and help each other. We were not to wander too far, we were to keep our clothes in good repair and to not do anything that would make for extra work for the staff. Our autonomy depended on how well we were able to conform to what was expected of us. It was an ideal sort of childhood for the both of us."
"Did you have any rules regarding the pond?" Bingley asked.
"Not rules exactly," Darcy hedged, "More like guidelines. As I said, we were to manage our own affairs and use good judgment." He squirmed a bit in his seat.
Wickham observed to Rebecca, "Bingley should know him well enough to know what that squirming means. It is a good thing that Darcy is a stodgy sort and only engages in parlor games as he has many tells."
"From everything you have told me, your father was a diligent parent and master."
"He certainly was." Darcy replied mildly. He sat attentively, his hands folded over each other on his lap and Wickham recognized his posture as his school pose.
Wickham could tell where this was going and quite astonished that Darcy did not seem to likewise know. "Nice baiting of the trap, Bingley. Not bad, not bad."
Bingley scooted himself a bit forward in his seat, looking as if ready to spring up like a jack in the box. He tapped his finger to his lips, then asked, "So do you expect me to believe he would not do everything to protect his only son and godson by diligently drilling into you rules about the pond, water and safety?"
Darcy looked decidedly uncomfortable. "Fine, there were rules, but we were becoming young men; I was to learn to be the master."
"Tell me the rules Darcy. I know you must remember them."
Darcy rubbed his hands against his thighs.
"Sweating are we?" Wickham asked rhetorically. "You thought old Bing would just pleasantly back you up, did you not? But now he shows some backbone and some talent with inquisition."
Darcy looked up as if seeing the rules before him. As he began to recite them in order, Wickham joined in after the first couple of words and said them with him.
"Around water, any water, always beware.
The pond and stream are dangerous, always take care.
Never run around water; you could slip and fall.
No roughhousing or carousing, one and all.
Before you dip in a toe, do not you forget,
keep your friends close before you get your feet wet.
If you have not a watchman only wading is allowed;
keep the water below your knees and the master will be proud.
If you want to swim, every child must fetch together
a strong swimming man, a trusty observer.
Never ever ever ever swim without adult supervision;
these rules are set in stone, there is no revision.
Keep these rules and you will be just fine,
When you follow the rules, you will have a good time."
"That is quite the list," Bingley observed, "he was very thorough."
"Yes," Darcy commented, "I taught them to Georgiana just as they were taught to me. It is a Pemberley tradition; all the tenants' children are taught likewise. There has never been a drowning at Pemberley since my grandfather's time."
"My father taught me the list," Wickham reminisced to himself.
"I do not see how you could be following them when you ordered Wickham to get your boat out of the pond," Bingley commented, crossing his arms and tilting his head slightly.
"You have him there!" Wickham commented gleefully.
Darcy looked embarrassed. "That is true."
"That stream at Pemberley moves pretty quickly, does it not?" Bingley uncrossed his arms and leaned forward.
"Yes, to keep up with our boats we almost had to trot."
"So if your boat was in the lead, you would be the one closest to it, correct?"
"Yes, I suppose so." Darcy looked a little cross.
"So it should have been easier for you to reach your boat before it reached the pond than it would have been for Wickham to get it."
"Yes." Darcy looked embarrassed.
"I knew I liked you Bingley," Wickham declared.
"Still," Bingley commented, "you might have been able to get your boat yourself if you went right in after it, but you would have gotten wet."
"Yes." Darcy looked quite dismayed by this point.
"But you thought it would be fine for Wickham to get his clothes all wet instead of you. And maybe risk breaking the rules."
Darcy leaned his elbows on his knees and cradled his face in his hands, closing his eyes as if he could not bear to look at Bingley. "I was a right arse, was I not? And then I was a fool. He wanted to go fetch help and I refused."
"How good was your swimming then?" Bingley asked, his tone gentler now, as if they were having just another calm discussion. "As I recall that is not particularly your sport."
"No, it is not, though I am better than I was."
Bingley idly, seemingly casually, scratched at his sideburn. "So you were probably in more than a spot of trouble if Wickham had to get a log to save you."
"I suppose that is right." Somehow, Bingley seemed to grown larger as Darcy shrunk down, his shoulders turned in a bit.
"And you are quite a bit taller and bigger than Wickham, is not that so. Probably always were."
"Yes, that is so. Everyone used to think I was the elder instead of him. You know my mother even saved my clothes to give to him and his mother still had to take them in quite a bit."
"While people weigh less in water, I have heard it can be difficult to save those who think they are drowning." Bingley's tone was conversational, but his look was not. "It is not uncommon for a drowning man to accidentally also drown his rescuer, even when the rescuer is quite a bit bigger. So if you were panicking, you might have given him quite a dunking, and pond water is not exactly good for the lungs I hear."
"Dear God!" Darcy exclaimed, "Sweet Mary and Joseph! He was coughing a lot when I visited him after I was released from my bed, but I thought he was faking it, to gain my sympathy."
"Ah Bingley, you are doing a bang up job. I would gladly hire you as my barrister!" Wickham exclaimed to himself.
"And Wickham was still confined to his bed I wager and you were not if you went to see him."
"I did not stay in my bed like I was supposed to before I was released, so I doubt he did either," Darcy defended.
"But you were in your own chambers and probably had many toys and games as the only Darcy child, yes?"
"And the point of this?"
"You said he stayed in a guest room."
"Yes, so?" Wickham could tell that Darcy was getting annoyed, though he was trying not to.
"Did he have any of his playthings there?"
Darcy wrinkled his brow a bit and looked up, as if struggling to recall. "If he did have any it could not have been much, but Wickham never had many toys anyway as I recall."
"So what did he have to do if he was out of bed?"
Darcy shrugged.
"Why was he not back with his parents?"
"Probably because there were more servants to attend to him at Pemberley. The Wickhams only had the one maid, Sally."
"But if he was not ill, why would it have mattered how many servants they had?"
Darcy's eyelids opened wide, making his eyes appear larger. His mouth sagged open and the color drained from his face. Then he shook his head slightly, snapping his jaw shut. He covered the bottom of his face with one hand, covering his mouth, but then abruptly dropped that hand into his lap; it made a clapping noise.
He said, "Elizabeth was right; I have been willfully blind. Could it be that my selfish acts and rejection of the man who was once my closest friend set him on the road to depravity and dissipation? Oh may God forgive me!"