It was June when the news arrived of the death of Lieutenant George Wickham. Darcy was handed the letter by his steward, Willis, absorbed the details of his brother in law's demise and then mounted his horse to travel to the Wickham household on the far reaches of the estate. Old Mr Wickham had been a good and honourable man and Darcy's father, George, had trusted him implicitly – the role of steward was a highly trusted position in the household, being responsible for the estate in the absence of the master. Whilst Wickham's son had had ideas above his station and attempted to ingratiate himself in to the higher reaches of society, his wife, Eleanor, and remaining children were hard working and devoted members of the Pemberley estate and continued to be well-looked after and favoured by the Darcy family. Peter, the second eldest Wickham, worked as an under-butler, whilst his brother David was second coachman. Bridget, the only daughter, had been skilled in sugar craft and had been utilised by Mrs Reynolds and the Chef, Mr Artaud, in the kitchens, before marrying a local cousin and raising a family of her own. Darcy was dreading telling Eleanor that George was not coming home from Waterloo; she had cried something dreadful when he had bought the commission to the Newcastle regiment and now this would destroy her. She was a soft, welcoming woman who had held him as a young man after his father had passed away and he had run away to Paddock Cottage on the edge of the woods to escape his family responsibilities. He had no secrets from Eleanor Wickham. Travelling through Knightslow Wood, he felt a small shiver of regret that his last words to George Wickham had been ones of anger, and he wished that things could have been different between them.
Raised almost as brothers, he had been closer to Wickham than anyone else in the world, and they had grown together, as boys, as young men… It had been George Wickham who had travelled with him to Cambridge as they studied together, he was always more daring – always wanting to drink a glass more, ride a little harder, study a little less – at the end of their second year it was clear that his friend was not destined for the Church as their fathers had decided. Darcy would have assisted Wickham in any profession that he desired; he knew that his own fortuitous situation in life was based upon the luck of his birth and wanted to do anything he could to help his friend and brother find success. Darcy had an easy going and loyal nature; it was true that he could be obtuse and distant with those he did not know, and he was quick to judge people based on initial impressions, but he was fiercely devoted to those he loved. It was this that made the continual betrayals by George Wickham especially difficult to bear. Firstly, he ran up debts in Darcy's name with local innkeepers and merchants – resulting in Darcy receiving a beating one evening when returning home to his lodgings. Wickham had laughed jovially upon seeing his friends bloodied face and ripped coat, before flouncing out of the door with a young lady of questionable reputation on his arm.
It was after the death of George Darcy that Wickham's behaviour escalated. Darcy - grieving, scared, drowning under the weight of the responsibility of the huge Darcy estates and the guardianship of his sister – gave in to his friend, lending him large sums of money and paying for his lodgings and bills. Wickham genuinely cared for Darcy, but he cared for himself more. He knew that old Mr Darcy had bequeathed him the living of Kympton – a clergyman! There were a lot of roles that George Wickham could assume, but he was most definitely not a man of the cloth, could not bear the thought of preaching about a non-existent God to a dreary bunch of worshippers before returning home to a less than comely wife and dull children. No, the Darcys had shown Wickham life outside of his social sphere and he knew that he was charming enough, handsome enough and a good enough lover to snare himself a reasonably wealthy widow who could offer him a good life in more respectable society, if not he was sure he could convince an heiress that he was half in love and marry her before she was any the wiser. His was not to be a life left languishing in mediocrity.
Darcy had been expecting the announcement of Wickham's arrival at the house in Grosvenor Square since nine. He had risen early and dressed suitably, his countenance dominated by grief, his demeanour carrying the weight of his heritage. Wickham believed that being a Darcy was about parties, balls, women and wine – but he forgot that the true inheritance of being Fitzwilliam Darcy was being responsible for hundreds of people and a massive estate that encompassed thousands of acres. George Wickham did not understand this because on the days when he had been taken by his father fishing on the river, or swimming in the lake, Darcy had been in the schoolroom on the second floor of the house, learning how to maximise the profits of his estates, how to run a household, manage staff and general level of comfort and respectability that his family were used to.
Wickham entered the oak panelled room and took a seat without being asked. Darcy visibly rumpled at the polished gentleman before him. He was the same height as Darcy but carried himself with a different air – one of arrogant, but undeserved, superiority. His clothes were always of the finest cloth and he had an aura of one who was comfortably affluent. Darcy himself did not, as a rule; he was shaven and clean, but he had not purchased a new suit since his graduation from Cambridge and he failed to keep up with the latest fashionable trends, more focused on keeping his affairs in order.
"Fitzwilliam," Wickham stated with a forced geniality. "How the devil are you?"
He placed his hat on the desk, Darcy noticed that it was made from finest beaver pelt and looked relatively new, he wondered how much this fashion would eventually cost his own purse, given as it was that he was currently subsidising Wickham's lifestyle to an alarming degree.
"As well as can be expected," he stated solemnly. He had no desire to reveal anything of his heart to George Wickham.
"Death of a father is a terrible thing," he said shaking his head. "Why it has been but three years since my own passed on. It has been hard for my mother, of course. One suspected that Peter would have inherited the position of Steward, but I can see that it was not meant to be."
Everything Wickham said was pointed. Every remark made designed to inflict hurt. He did nothing without fully thinking it through.
"Peter was offered the chance to train to be a steward, George," Darcy corrected. "But he declined it as he felt much more comfortable in the stables, you understand that. Have you been to see your mother recently?"
"She has been ill with a fever these last few weeks and I have stayed in town in order to prevent the spread of it."
"Mrs Wickham was in perfectly good health last Thursday week when I visited her."
George visibly wavered. He was all for the appearance of outward respectability but did not like being questioned or contradicted in his assurances.
"Ah, yes," he agreed. "I admit I have been away longer than anticipated. It is not as easy to travel back to Derbyshire when one has to travel by post, I would not expect you to understand as you always have the luxury of the coach."
"Actually," Darcy stated. "I have been travelling back and forth on horseback. I find it takes less time and costs a lot less money than the coach. Besides which, my sister Georgiana is currently visiting the coast with her companion and I thought it better for her to have exclusive use of it for the season."
"Why, yes," Wickham agreed. "What a splendid idea. The seaside will do her a great deal of good after the last few months of sadness. Losing a parent when one is so young will obviously have an impact."
"Well, quite," Darcy snapped. Both men knew why Wickham was here, it was not to make pleasant small talk or exchange niceties. He was here to receive what was coming to him under the wishes of Mr Darcy's will. There had already been an exchange of correspondence between Wickham and the Darcy attorneys in Lambton and Darcy had already granted his former friend a sum of three thousand pounds instead of the living at Kympton, in addition to the thousand pounds that he had already been granted as Mr Darcy's godson. Taking the envelope from Darcy, which he promptly placed in his inside coat pocket, Wickham offering his hand and Darcy reluctantly shook it. He sincerely hoped that this would be the last he would see of George Wickham.
Eleanor had howled; long low moans of grief at the death of her firstborn son. Peter and David had been told the news up at the main house and travelled back to the cottage as soon as they could, Bridget lived in Lambton and Darcy had sent a man there to fetch her before he had left for the cottage. The Wickhams were like a second family to him and he shared in their grief, holding Bridget in his arms like a sister as she wept.
"What about Lydia, Fitzwilliam," Eleanor asked. "What will happen to Lydia?"
Darcy had not thought about his sister-in-law, but it stood to reason that he would send the coach to Newcastle for her.
"She will come and stay at Pemberley with us and I will send her to you once she has settled."
"You know that she is with child, Fitzwilliam?"
If Darcy visibly blanched then he did well to hide it, he had not been aware that Lydia was pregnant, and he wasn't too enthusiastic about a child of George Wickham's being raised at Pemberley.
"I did not know, but this is remarkably good news on this sad day, Eleanor."
Mrs Wickham looked at him wistfully, "yes," she said sadly. "But I cannot bring myself to be happy about it today."
Darcy left the family to their grief, promising to make all the suitable arrangements for burial and service, and to ensure that Lydia would be safely at Pemberley within the next week. Mounting his horse, he rode back to the house the long way around, it was dusk, and he had been at the cottage for longer than he had intended.
Lydia Wickham arrived ten days later with three trunks and a list of creditors. She was large with child and her usual frivolous and self-centred self. Dressed in a black velvet gown and with her hair curled high upon her head, she looked every inch the demanding duchess and summoned her sister as if calling for a maid. Darcy did not understand how Elizabeth could stand deferring to her sister in such a way, and he had Lydia and her various possessions placed in one of the less grand bedrooms in an act of rebellion against her. She had ordered three mourning dresses and charged them to the Darcy account, as well as a number of bonnets and hats. Darcy trusted that his sister-in-law's stay would be short, hopeful that the Bingleys would be willing to receive her at Dunham for the duration of her confinement.
The funeral passed with little drama, even from Lydia whose emotions were muted on the unseasonably overcast day. Darcy himself felt empty as the walnut coffin was lowered into the Wickham plot at the church in Lambton and he held onto his wife's hand as if trying to make sense of it all. It was Elizabeth who encouraged her husband to grieve for George Wickham in the days that followed, to remember the past with as much pleasure as he could. Despite the incident at Ramsgate and his dastardly elopement with her own sister, Elizabeth was fully aware that Wickham had been a charming and affable man, and after conversing with Darcy about his childhood and his life before her, she knew that some of his positive qualities were as a direct result of knowing him. It was because of having to pay off his friend's debts at the tailors and hatters in fashionable parts town that Darcy had begun to invest in himself; paying for newly tailored suits more befitting his status, buying himself beaver pelt top hats and spending time at the theatre and recitals. It was because of Wickham that Darcy had a sense of adventure – usually young men would travel to the continent after finishing their studies, but due to Napoleon's dominance of Europe, the two men had travelled to the Far East – visiting Cairo and Greece. They had returned to Pemberley with tales of their exploits and the sights they had seen, and artefacts from the holy lands that were on display around the house, as well as lengths of exotic silks and satins. It was talking about these escapades and remembering the aspects of his youth that Wickham had positively enhanced, which forced Darcy to remember George with fondness and he truly mourned the loss of a brother and friend.