A/N: Bonus chapter for today! Wickham's accidents happened to me on two separate occasions. When I told my daughter about these accidents, she suggested that I include them in the story. So here they are, almost exactly as they happened to me. I was lucky that the windshield of my car protected me in both cases. Wickham is not so fortunate.
~ . ~
Instead of continuing on his way toward Mayfair after dropping off Miss de Bourgh, George Wickham turned the phaeton into a side street to go back toward Leicester Square. He planned to wend through the small streets until he reached Charing Cross and then go north toward Hertfordshire. He figured that Darcy would simply escort his cousin back to Mayfair, but he wanted to take this circuitous route in the parts of London that Darcy was unfamiliar with in case that pompous bore decided to pursue him. After all, Darcy could be unpredictable – he appeared suddenly in Ramsgate two days before his sister was to elope with himself, and his grand plans for her dowry of thirty thousand pounds evaporated in a puff.
While thus ruminating, he heard thundering hoofbeats fast approaching him from behind. He looked back momentarily to see what the commotion was all about only to find Darcy and his groom gaining on him. He cursed his bad luck and immediately turned back to urge the bays to gallop when he found his phaeton practically on top of two carters with heavy cargoes emerging from a lane to his left. He veered the phaeton away just in time to avoid a collision, but the carters were not so fortunate and were sent tumbling. It was not entirely intentional on his part to cause the accident, but it certainly worked out conveniently for him. That sentimental Darcy, entirely predictable in circumstances like this, could be counted on to stop immediately to give aid to the injured carters while he slipped away at leisure. He smiled triumphantly at his continual good luck and crowed to himself about his superb skills with the horses.
About halfway to Meryton, Wickham stored the viscount's horses at a coaching inn and rented two post horses to continue his journey. Everything was working out to his advantage thus far. The slight breeze in the city had turned into rather gusty winds at times, but except for a few branches that littered the road here and there, the day was warm and sunny.
He decided to go straight to Longbourn and bypass Meryton in case he ran into unpleasant creditors. While on a country road not far from Longbourn, he watched with some concern as the trees on either side of the narrow road were swaying rather too wildly in the stiff gusts of wind. To his horror, not ten feet ahead on his right, a large branch appeared to have broken off its tree trunk and would fall on his phaeton.
He whipped the horses and urged them to gallop, hoping that he could outrun the impending disaster. As it turned out, he was successful in avoiding being hit by the large broken branch, which smashed into the ground just at the back of the phaeton.
Wickham's heart pounded at this narrow escape but congratulated himself on another lucky break. He stood up and looked behind him to ascertain that there was no damage to the phaeton. He was exceedingly pleased that he could not see any from his position.
He smiled a big smile and thought: On this lucky day, of course the phaeton would have been spared any damage.
His smile was still on his face when he turned back to face the road –
Wham!
His head was hit so hard by something that he not only saw stars, but almost fainted. It was a miracle that he had not fallen out of the phaeton. His face hurt like it had been completely smashed in, and his neck felt like it was going to break off of his body. He felt so stunned that by instinct he stopped the phaeton before turning around to see what had happened to him. His vision was blurry, but he could see a large branch dangling straight down from a tall tree. His face had run into the branch because he was standing up in front of the seat.
He pulled out a small mirror that he always carried on his person. What he saw staring back at him shocked him to the core: his left eye had already swollen almost completely shut, a large gash ran from his hair line down his cheek to his left jaw and blood was dripping out his mouth over his severely swollen lips, and most alarmingly, his two front teeth were knocked almost completely out of their sockets – he could use his tongue to push them straight up! However, this time, he did not feel lucky at all about his Grecian nose having miraculously escaped the accident unscathed.
He sat dazed by this turn of events. The brain fog was yet heavy after such a powerful blow. Eventually he remembered the cause of his present predicament. He got off the phaeton gingerly and walked slowly around to the back. He found the footman's seat and the Westerham's family crest were scratched and the left side of the phaeton slightly dented. His heart sank, as Westerham was known to have a quick temper and had called people out for much less provocation than damaging his beloved phaeton. He was also known as a crack shot. People did not usually know that because he always seemed so jovial and loved a good joke.
This last thought, instead of depressing him further, actually raised his spirits. He would proceed with his plan to take Lydia Bennet to London and to force a marriage. Once he had possession of her dowry, he would have the phaeton repaired, and he would explain to Westerham that he had taken the phaeton to elope with his ladylove to Gretna Green. Westerham would think it such a lark that he would be forgiven for keeping the phaeton far longer than he should have. As for the injuries to his face, they were all due to that blackguard Darcy, who not only did not show on the field of honor, but also hired thugs to attack him before the appointed hour.
Using the pencil and paper Westerham kept in the phaeton, he composed a flowery letter to Miss Lydia, declaring his undying love and the desire to elope with her to Scotland. If she agreed, which he had no doubt she would, she should meet him at first light at their usual rendezvous location in the wilderness by the road just inside Longbourn's boundary. He read over the letter with satisfaction and found the boy Jimmy, who was his go-between with Miss Lydia, doing chores outside of his father's farm on Longbourn's land. The boy was to hand the letter to his sister Lucy, a scullery maid at Longbourn.
The boy was startled to see Wickham in such a state but did as he was told after receiving a shilling from Wickham.
Wickham, in the meantime, repaired to the apothecary to see about the damage to his face, hoping against hope that his luck would hold out and that the injuries, though serious, would be temporary. Fortunately, Mr. Jones' place was on the edge of town, and it was getting dark. As far as he could tell, he had not been discovered by anyone. In fact, he had been so disfigured that even the Bow Street Runners who had hurried to Meryton and were on the lookout for him would not have recognized him.
Mr. Jones was at home, having just finished his dinner. He had met Wickham before and knew of the rumors that the man was in fact a scoundrel. When he saw his face, however, he could not help pitying him. After examining him, the apothecary broke the grim news that his left eye had been severely injured, and he might have lost his sight in that eye permanently. As for the two incisors, there was nothing to do but to force them back into their sockets and hope for the best. The gash was deep enough that it would leave a prominent scar when healed, and that would be the least of his problems.
Wickham was very downhearted when he heard the consequences of the accident, which Mr. Jones could not help assuming to be a disguise of the truth. By that time Wickham was past caring. He paid Mr. Jones for his trouble and for the laudanum that he requested to ease the pain. He wearily trudged back to the phaeton and drove it to a small inn three miles out of Meryton for the night. There was a card game going on in the tavern, and he wanted to join at first as gambling always brought so much thrill that he forgot his constant troubles. However, this time, he decided against it because he could not ignore the searing pain in his head and face to go join in the fun.
He had to pay for the room in advance for, even so far out of town, the gossip had done its work. He took some laudanum and fell into a deep sleep eventually. By the time he woke, it was well past eight o'clock! His face and teeth were still throbbing, but he hurried to the phaeton, having forgotten to take a look at himself in the mirror in his haste to leave for the meeting with Lydia.
When he climbed down from the phaeton, he was relieved to see that Miss Lydia was still waiting for him. However, as he approached, Lydia noticeably shrank back. He called out gingerly, mindful of the looseness of his front teeth in their sockets, "Dearest Lydia, you waited for me!"
The truth was that Lydia had just arrived, having overslept as well.
"Mr. Wickham, is it really you? What happened to your face?" asked Lydia, still keeping a rather large distance.
Wickham then poured out his contrived story with the fabricated desolation that he quite excelled in, except that without his erstwhile handsome face, the story lost quite a lot of its pathos, at least to this girl impressed only by handsome gentlemen.
Seeing that Lydia appeared to be still apprehensive about him, he thought he would need to exert his charm further by embracing her and kissing her. He had given her a peck on the cheek before when she gave him her pin money for the trip to London, and she had blushed very becomingly. A French kiss, in his experience, could conquer the most reluctant lady. This time, however, Lydia appeared to be backing away faster with every step he took toward her.
"My dearest Lydia, there is nothing to be ashamed of. People in love could kiss and do all manner of lovemaking," cooed Wickham.
"Lieutenant Wickham, I am afraid if anything touches your face, it will split open!" cried Lydia while using both hands to cover her mouth.
"Don't you worry, Lydia darling. These injuries are nothing, and they will heal in no time at all," said Wickham, as he advanced without ceasing.
"But…but your lips are so swollen! You cannot possibly kiss with those! And….and I can see…. blood staining your lips!" Lydia kept backing up.
"It matters not, Lydia. We must go now if we are to make it to Gretna Green in five days. Come, darling, and hop on this magnificent phaeton!" commanded Wickham.
Lydia winced, and said with a tremulous voice, "I…I…I have changed my mind." Then some of Lydia's brashness came back and she said with determination, "I do not wish to elope with you. I cannot leave my papa and mamma without a word of farewell. Besides, I am too young. I am not sixteen!"
Lydia simply could not imagine being married to a husband with such a monstrous face. When she looked at the perfect right side of Wickham's face and then the left side which was grotesque beyond belief, she got a feeling of seeing a specter. The two bleeding front teeth appeared to move every time Wickham spoke. All the eerie images she had formed from reading Mrs. Radcliffe's novels rushed in at once, making her scream and turn to run away.
Wickham was terrified that his last hope to gain his fortune was going to be lost. He had never used force on a lady, but this time, he would have to break this gentleman's rule. He ran after her but had to stop after a few steps because his head and neck started to hurt sharply, and he felt so dizzy that he fell on the ground. To his horror, one of the loose teeth fell out of his mouth altogether! This seemed to him to be the last straw. He laid on the ground with his face up and his arm across his eyes, moaning pitifully.
After what seemed a very long while, he heard footsteps and struggled to turn around to see the person approaching him. It was Lydia followed by the go-between boy Jimmy. His heart jumped for joy thinking that Lydia, the silliest girl of all England, might have a change of heart. Lydia stopped at a distance from where he was lying and asked Jimmy to retrieve the large trunk that Lydia had packed for the elopement.
Wickham's last vestige of hope disappeared at her avoiding even looking at him. He asked nonetheless, "Miss Lydia, could you please help me look for my lost tooth? It fell out of my mouth, and I cannot see where it lies. If you could ask Jimmy to look for it, I would be eternally grateful."
Lydia scrunched up her face when she heard about a tooth on the ground. After a moment, she felt remorseful for being so apathetic toward a gentleman whom she once admired. She called out to Jimmy and told him to look for the tooth. Jimmy walked around where Wickham was lying and found the blood-stained tooth quite easily just inches from Wickham's head. He handed it back to Wickham with his dirty fingers while Lydia grimaced, thinking that it was the most repugnant thing she had ever witnessed. She opened her reticule and took out the few pound notes she had taken from Kitty without permission and asked Jimmy to hand them to Mr. Wickham. She fled before Jimmy had completed his mission.
Wickham had thought that the day he would be indifferent to a few pound notes would be the day he had made his fortune. However, he felt completely repulsed by the sight of the money lying next to him. Miss Lydia Bennet had treated him like a beggar. Had he sunk so low?
Soon after, the Bow Street Runners, Jenks and Howe, finally caught up with him. The two men followed the gossip to Longbourn and found the high-flier phaeton, and then it was just a matter of minutes before they found Wickham, still lying on the ground.
They hoisted him up without ceremony and took him back to the barracks in the phaeton, as his resignation had not been officially approved. His leave expired just that morning, but he had his accident to excuse him for this lapse, and so the commander of his regiment, Colonel Foster, let him off the charge of desertion. Instead, he was handed over to Jenks, an acquaintance of the colonel, for the warrant to arrest him for bad debts, but not before he was stripped of all the cash on him to pay his creditors in Meryton and the regiment. He was also handed a dishonorable discharge.
Wickham was rather numb through all this as he had taken some laudanum before the interview with the colonel. He was still quite subdued and groggy when he saw Darcy at the Bow Street Runners' place of business in London. However, Mr. Darcy's reaction on seeing him was quite the opposite.
"Good God, Wickham! What happened?" Mr. Darcy exclaimed with alarm on seeing Wickham's battered face.
Wickham took the tooth from his pocket and stretched out his hand for Darcy to see, and said with resignation, "Darcy, for the love of your father, could you send for a surgeon if not a dentist to see whether the tooth can be replanted?"
Mr. Darcy looked startled to be asked this favor by his nemesis. He nonetheless obliged and wrote a note to be delivered to his dentist, asking him to come right away with a doctor.
Wickham then continued, "Darcy, I swear to heaven that this," he pointed to his face, "was due to an accident when I was driving a phaeton. A tree branch hit me when I was momentarily distracted."
Mr. Darcy paced back and forth while Wickham told him the extent of his injury. At the end of the retelling, Wickham said, "Darcy, I can guess the reason you sent Bow Street Runners after me. I know you hold my debts. You have the right to send me to Marshalsea or have me transported. But I beg you to give me one more chance to start over in America. You of all people know that without my looks, I cannot tempt any heiresses."
Mr. Darcy was somewhat intrigued by this frank talk of his erstwhile friend. In the past, Wickham had always been sarcastic and spiteful towards him – even during the confrontation after the thwarted elopement with his sister.
Mr. Darcy asked tentatively, "How could I be assured that you would even go to America after I let you off here? You had agreed not to come close to my family after… the last incident, and yet you were found to be back to your mischief just yesterday."
Wickham was getting wearied, but he gathered his strength and answered, "While lying on the ground with my head whirling in pain and dizziness, I came to the realization that I could no longer count on luck to carry me through life. Let me make a clean breast of things: I was at Longbourn trying to seduce Miss Lydia Bennet to elope with me to Gretna Green. Your cousin, Miss de Bourgh, has gifted the Bennet sisters her own dowry of more than seventy thousand pounds. Even Miss Lydia, the silliest girl in all England, ran from me when she saw my face. My life here is finished."
Mr. Darcy had already heard about his cousin's unprecedented act of generosity, or rather recklessness, and now it was confirmed by Wickham. When it came to Wickham, he could not be completely objective. He used to think that Wickham was irredeemable, but lately, in the last few days – since he was reminded by his Elizabeth how his own upbringing made him disdainful of others – he began to think that perhaps his father's misplaced sense of guilt bore some responsibility for creating the dissipated version of Wickham today, who was a far cry from the decent, fun-loving companion of his youth. After all, the venerable gentleman with good intentions abruptly transplanted Wickham into a high social class without adequate supervision.
Mr. Darcy asked after this prolonged contemplation, "What would you do in America? What makes you think that the professions that are distasteful to you here will be palatable in the New World?"
Wickham answered, quite thoughtfully, "You father wanted me to be a gentleman. The acceptable careers for a gentleman are the law, the clergy, and the army. I have given all three a try and found them not to my liking. It did not help that I had decided that the surest way to become a gentleman of means was to marry an heiress. In America, I hear that the distinction of rank is not so strict. There are many other possibilities. I am quite good with horses. I have heard that there are wild ponies one can harness and tame. I may try my hand at that. At least I no longer need to worry about a wild horse kicking me in the face and ruining my looks!" Wickham laughed mirthlessly.
Mr. Darcy looked with new understanding at the defeated man before him, making Wickham squirm with self-consciousness. He said at length, "I will give your proposal some consideration and make the decision before I leave town in a few days. The doctor will be here soon, and he will take care of your injuries. You will stay here until you are well enough to go either to America as a free man or as a convict to Botany Bay. Is there anything else you need me to consider?"
"Could you have the phaeton repaired? The tree was far kinder to the phaeton than it was to me. Returning the phaeton in pristine condition will ensure that I live till the day you send me off to my fate," Wickham quipped.
Mr. Darcy just nodded, as he knew what Wickham said to be true. Viscount Westerham's penchant to challenge anybody on the smallest provocation was legendary. He left after giving directions to the men in his employ at the Bow Street Runners to take care of both Wickham and the phaeton.