Back from vacation! I must say that I'm more tired now than I was before we left. Children will do that to you or so I hear ;-)
Posting to my multi chapter story will continue on Monday.
Meanwhile I'm still not done with Mr. Wickham, so here's a very short story about him.
-`o´-
November, 1807, Pemberley estate
One late autumn day Mr. George Darcy was returning home from touring some of the farms and the site for a planned new mill when he heard a woman making quite a ruckus near the stables. From what he could see she was with child and he heard her loudly demanding to see his housekeeper so she could demand 'reparations'.
He felt nauseous and his heart constricted in his chest. He could not believe his son would so debase their good name, but the proof was apparently in front of his eyes; and a loud proof it was.
Mr. Darcy would have very much liked to forget about the whole sorry business, except that it was the life of his first grandchild at stake. An illegitimate grandchild, but one of his blood nonetheless. "Well then, better get to it, old man," he muttered under his breath and unmounting his mare he called a stable hand to care for the beast while he would attend to the not quite young woman.
She was not unattractive, he supposed, as she was tall and exceedingly well endowed.
Some half an hour later he was both relieved that Fitzwilliam was not the father of her child and horrified by what the woman freely shared. She claimed the father was her George, that is his steward's only son and his own godson, George Wickham.
When he tried to explain that he would need some assurances, as it was unfair to accuse a promising young man of such dishonorable acts, she laughed in his face and quickly named three other women who had already given birth to young Wickhams. Mrs. Reynolds knew all about it, she assured him, because it was she who found employment for those other women.
For herself she did not want employment; she wanted a husband.
-`o´-
"You asked to see me, sir?"
"Have a seat, Mrs. Reynolds."
"Yes, sir," she said and gingerly sat down. It was most irregular for the master to call her to his book room without the ledgers and she could not help but be apprehensive.
"A young woman from Lambton by the name Rebekah Smith came today to get an audience with you. I met her at the stables quite by accident."
"We don't take too many hands from the other side of the hill, but if you wish to find her employment it will certainly be done. Although I have to say, sir, I do not know of any Rebekah Smith and not one of our servants had ever talked to me about her."
"No, you wouldn't know her, Reynolds. She claims to have become with child by George Wickham."
"Surely not again!" Mrs. Reynolds was so shocked that she just opened her mouth and said the words.
"So she was telling the truth. She also claimed you have found employment for three other young women who birthed his children."
Mrs. Reynolds shifted uncomfortably.
"What I want to know is why you never saw fit to inform me of his deeds."
What followed was a most disagreeable hour for both Mrs. Reynolds and the master of Pemberley. Mr. Darcy did not stop until he found out the full extent of young Wickham's misdeeds and how master Fitzwilliam worked hard to shield his father from the knowledge of it, owing to George Wickham's status as Mr. Darcy's protege.
-`o´-
Rebekah Smith, daughter of one Mr. Smith, Lambton's finest and only blacksmith, did not fancy marrying George Wickham, although she would, if the terms were good. She had lain with George, that much was true, although he was one of the many she took to her bed.
She was not a strumpet though. Oh, no, not her!
She just liked her men eager and vigorous. After about twenty years of activities and no child she reckoned she would never have to worry about it. Her da taught her well.
She was at a loss to account for how it could have happened now. Maybe that last bunch of skins was bad?
Not that she was too much nettled by the happenstance. The old man was getting on and soon he would not be able to work anymore. A husband would not be such a bad thing, provided he knew his place.
She went in to see to the supper and hopefully catch her father sober enough so she could explain and he would remember what she expected of him.
-`o´-
From then on the matters proceeded as expected.
Mr. Darcy understood the urgency of the situation, but he still needed some two or three weeks to make enquiries and verify the truth of the matter. Owing to Pemberley's master's thoroughness and scruples to hurry, lest he would bring injury to the parties involved, the Smiths had time to fill in all their Lambton acquaintances with how Rebekah was expecting her young George back any day now. Surely he would not forget his promises to her, especially now that they were having a child!
Not wanting to be on the outs with the only smith for miles, their neighbours nodded their heads and congratulated them on a good match, while in private nobody thought it would ever happen. Young Wickham, even at his tender age of four and twenty, had quite a reputation for ruining women. Rebekah too had quite a reputation for being rather free with her favours, but that was neither here nor there.
By the time Mr. Darcy's man talked to the villagers, they all said the same thing: Rebekah Smith was with child by George Wickham and was expecting him to keep his promise and marry her.
-`o´-
January, 1808, Pemberley estate
Some six or eight weeks after that fateful meeting, George Wickham and Fitzwilliam Darcy were summoned back to Pemberley by express.
The young Darcy arrived first and spent a couple of days bearing the brunt of his father's ire. Mr. Darcy resented being kept from the knowledge of his godson's temper and proclivities and furthermore resented that his good name might be called into question by affording protection to such dishonorable conduct.
To master Fitzwilliam's great surprise his father intended to make George marry his latest conquest to prevent another bastard child from being born.
When George Wickham arrived, a full three days after master Fitzwilliam, he found out that his father was not Pemberley's steward anymore and that he was wanted at the manor house as fast as he could go.
Two hours later he walked out of Mr. Darcy's bookroom an utterly broken man.
Mr. Wickham senior, with the material help of Mr. Darcy, had established annuities of forty pounds per annum for each of his three children. His father did not feel he could stay on as steward and he did not intend to continue in the neighbourhood either, so as soon as everything was put to rights he would retire to Lancashire to live with a distant cousin who was willing to take him in.
There would be no inheritance left for George, as all his father's possessions would be sold to raise money for the aforementioned children and their mothers.
Second, George was given a choice between the Regulars and being sent to war or a speedy marriage to a Miss Rebekah Smith, who claimed to be heavy with his fourth child. He wasn't even sure who she was anymore, but his sense of self preservation manifested enough and he agreed to the wedding.
Mr. Darcy was going to settle one thousand pounds on her to help them start their new life together.
-`o´-
October, 1808, Lambton
Mr. George Darcy had died, quite suddenly, at the end of May.
George Wickham still held a small hope that he would be called to the reading of the will, a will in which he was sure to have been mentioned. By the autumn it was plain that this was not going to be the case.
His life was now forever entwined with Smith and his daughter. He could have added his young son too, but even a blind man could see how the squealing wretch was not his.
He saw his father in law coming back unsteadily and ducked around the corner of the house. The man was rarely sober, and had a heavy hand. So did Rebekah, his blushing bride, George thought with bitterness.
He had to find something to eat so he could do his husbandly duty come night or else there would be hell to pay. His wife was a woman of prodigious appetites.
-`o´-
November, 1813, Meryton
Lydia's intention of walking to Meryton was not forgotten; every sister except Mary agreed to go with her.
Once in Meryton, the attention of every lady was soon caught by a man, whom they had never seen before, of most striking appearance, walking with another officer on the other side of the way. The officer was the very Mr. Denny Lydia meant to see.
Mr. Denny addressed the Bennet sisters directly, and entreated permission to introduce his friend, Mr. Wickham, who had returned with him the day before from the North, and he was happy to say had accepted a commission in their corps. This was exactly as it should be; for the man wanted only regimentals to make him completely captivating. His appearance was greatly in his favour; he had all the best parts of maleness, a good figure, and forthright address. The scar over his left eyebrow seemed only fitting with his persona: here was a man among boys.
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 enquire after her. Mr. Darcy corroborated it with a bow, and was beginning to determine not to fix his eyes on Elizabeth, when 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, touched his hat—a salutation which Mr. Darcy just deigned to return. What could be the meaning of it? It was impossible to imagine; it was impossible not to long to know.
But after only a moment more Mr. Darcy looked like he could not abstain himself from smiling and addressed Mr. Wickham thusly:
"Wickham, this is quite a surprise. I hope your wife and son are in good health."
"Wife! How can that be?" Lydia cried and Elizabeth tried to shush her, but to no avail.
"They are well, Darcy."
"And your father in law? Snelling was telling me he has some troubles steadying himself and since you were not inclined to take over the smithy he was thinking of selling it?
It is good of you to take employment to support them, Wickham."
"What is it about Mr. Snelling, Darcy? Damn fine steward, are you thinking of letting him go?"
Mr. Darcy frowned at the oath and shot a quick glare at his friend, but nonetheless he replied.
"No, Bingley, you will have to keep looking. Mr. Wickham is an old acquaintance of mine, the son of my father's steward and I have Mr. Snelling and Mrs. Reynolds keeping an eye on the family."
"Of course you do," Mr. Bingley said good-naturedly, "of course you do! You would not believe, Miss Bennet," he then addressed Jane, "how minutely Darcy interests himself in all the matters pertaining to his estate and his dependents. Why, he must spend half the day reading and writing letters of business!"
Elizabeth could see Mr. Darcy becoming quite embarrassed by his friend and could not refrain herself from coming to his aid, although why that was she couldn't quite say.
"Then it is all as it should be, Mr. Bingley. There is nothing wrong with a master taking good care of his estate. The larger the estate, the more time it needs to be properly managed."
"No doubt, Miss Elizabeth! Let me assure you I am conscientious of all my good fortune in having Darcy here taking time to teach me about it all, as long as it doesn't prevent us from taking in the beauties of the country!" It was all said in good cheer, but Elizabeth could not approve of the sentiment and even Jane frowned.
Mr. Darcy might be dour and haughty, but between the two men he looked to be dependable; and Mr. Bingley did not.
It was as if the scales had fallen from both Elizabeth's and Jane's eyes.
Their discourse was abruptly interrupted by Lydia who reminded her sisters they were expected at their aunt's. She did not see why she should let Jane and Elizabeth have their fun with the gentlemen when there wasn't any such for her.
It could be said that the scales had fallen from Lydia's eyes as well. She could have never imagined that such lowly born persons as the son-in-law of a blacksmith were wearing the uniform. Were such people expecting to be received in their homes? It was not to be borne!
-`o´-
February, 1814 Meryton
Mrs. Bennet was at her wits' end. Here they all were, in the church, witnessing Mr. Darcy marrying Lizzy, while Lydia was turning her nose up at all the officers and Jane was adamant that Mr. Bingley had to prove himself a constant suitor and an involved master before she would bestow her hand on him.
Her most contrary daughter married, and married into fortune beyond all Mrs. Bennet's expectations, while her two most beautiful children still languished at home! What was the world coming to?
