Chapter 15 - In Lieu
'Pardon me for interrupting, sir, but Mr. Wickham is here to see you.'
Darcy kept his face carefully impassive as he bid the butler return to his duties. What on Earth could he be doing here? Has he not anything better to do than to turn up at my doorstep and make my life a living hell?! I suppose London did not prove to be as prosperous as he had anticipated.Lord knows what he has been doing with himself there.
It had been five months since his father's funeral, and Darcy had heard nothing of Wickham all that time. If he were frightfully honest, he would have to admit that he had missed George - as uncomfortable as being in his presence was, he had become so accustomed to it over the last 8 years that it had become a significant part of his existence - his lifeline, if you will. True, the constant paperwork and business meetings necessary for the running of the Darcy estates had kept him fully occupied everyday; but at night, when all servants had gone to bed and he could lie down in peace, Wickham's face would appear before him and his heart would twist with a curious mixture of pain, sorrow, disgust and arousal.
The door to his study opened and the butler announced, 'Mr Wickham, sir.' He had not changed a bit, thought Darcy. His clothes looked to be of the latest fashion, though perhaps not of the finest quality. He walked to a nearby table, placed his hat, cane and gloves upon it and turned towards the desk where Darcy still sat. As he swaggered towards him, Darcy slowly rose from his seat and instinctively eyed him up and down. Wickham caught this and smiled rakishly.
'Ahem, well, to what do I owe this visit, Wickham? I had heard you were in London last. The delights of the city evidently did not satisfy you,' Darcy said deliberately harshly.
'Oh, I was more than satisfied; I felt that you might be in need of some.satisfaction, and I felt it my duty to attempt to relieve you.'
Darcy blushed furiously and, angrily now, 'Wickham, what do you want? Please do not take up my valuable time. I have a vast amount of correspondence to deal with, there is no time for this sort of tomfoolery. Is it money? You know very well that a position at Kympton Parsonage was made available to you in my father's will, yet you chose to.'
'Yes, yes, yes, I know that, we all know that.' Wickham turned from where he had been fondling a miniature statue of Apollo upon the mantelpiece, and raising his hand in a theatrical gesture, 'but I feel, that the church life is not the life for one such as myself.'
Within a quarter of an hour, Darcy handed over to Wickham a bill of three thousand pounds in lieu of the position at Kympton. Wickham smirked winningly, 'Thank you, I am most exceedingly obliged,' He touched his upper lip provocatively with his tongue and then swept towards the door, sweeping up his belongings from the table where he had left them. Darcy stared at his back for the two seconds it took him to get to the door. As he turned the door handle, Wickham looked back once more and Darcy's eyes locked with his momentarily. Darcy blinked, but it was too late, he had quit the room.
Having been summoned by the master, the butler entered the study to find his master sitting at his desk, seemingly staring at the grounds visible through the window, with a most peculiar expression in his eyes. He soon left with orders to bring the decanter of good brandy from the library and bring it to the study with a large tumbler. Darcy sat in his late father's chair, mindlessly stroking the chair arm with his finger. He did not get back to work that evening, for he could not help contemplating why Wickham had looked at him in that one moment with such *hatred* in his eyes.
'Pardon me for interrupting, sir, but Mr. Wickham is here to see you.'
Darcy kept his face carefully impassive as he bid the butler return to his duties. What on Earth could he be doing here? Has he not anything better to do than to turn up at my doorstep and make my life a living hell?! I suppose London did not prove to be as prosperous as he had anticipated.Lord knows what he has been doing with himself there.
It had been five months since his father's funeral, and Darcy had heard nothing of Wickham all that time. If he were frightfully honest, he would have to admit that he had missed George - as uncomfortable as being in his presence was, he had become so accustomed to it over the last 8 years that it had become a significant part of his existence - his lifeline, if you will. True, the constant paperwork and business meetings necessary for the running of the Darcy estates had kept him fully occupied everyday; but at night, when all servants had gone to bed and he could lie down in peace, Wickham's face would appear before him and his heart would twist with a curious mixture of pain, sorrow, disgust and arousal.
The door to his study opened and the butler announced, 'Mr Wickham, sir.' He had not changed a bit, thought Darcy. His clothes looked to be of the latest fashion, though perhaps not of the finest quality. He walked to a nearby table, placed his hat, cane and gloves upon it and turned towards the desk where Darcy still sat. As he swaggered towards him, Darcy slowly rose from his seat and instinctively eyed him up and down. Wickham caught this and smiled rakishly.
'Ahem, well, to what do I owe this visit, Wickham? I had heard you were in London last. The delights of the city evidently did not satisfy you,' Darcy said deliberately harshly.
'Oh, I was more than satisfied; I felt that you might be in need of some.satisfaction, and I felt it my duty to attempt to relieve you.'
Darcy blushed furiously and, angrily now, 'Wickham, what do you want? Please do not take up my valuable time. I have a vast amount of correspondence to deal with, there is no time for this sort of tomfoolery. Is it money? You know very well that a position at Kympton Parsonage was made available to you in my father's will, yet you chose to.'
'Yes, yes, yes, I know that, we all know that.' Wickham turned from where he had been fondling a miniature statue of Apollo upon the mantelpiece, and raising his hand in a theatrical gesture, 'but I feel, that the church life is not the life for one such as myself.'
Within a quarter of an hour, Darcy handed over to Wickham a bill of three thousand pounds in lieu of the position at Kympton. Wickham smirked winningly, 'Thank you, I am most exceedingly obliged,' He touched his upper lip provocatively with his tongue and then swept towards the door, sweeping up his belongings from the table where he had left them. Darcy stared at his back for the two seconds it took him to get to the door. As he turned the door handle, Wickham looked back once more and Darcy's eyes locked with his momentarily. Darcy blinked, but it was too late, he had quit the room.
Having been summoned by the master, the butler entered the study to find his master sitting at his desk, seemingly staring at the grounds visible through the window, with a most peculiar expression in his eyes. He soon left with orders to bring the decanter of good brandy from the library and bring it to the study with a large tumbler. Darcy sat in his late father's chair, mindlessly stroking the chair arm with his finger. He did not get back to work that evening, for he could not help contemplating why Wickham had looked at him in that one moment with such *hatred* in his eyes.