No one has brought this up, but I want to reassure everyone that I am not abandoning Heir Apparent. I simply had this idea and I want to get the first few chapters out. This one also has a much less complicated plot, at least so far, so its easier.
As no objection was made to the young people's engagement with their aunt, the coach conveyed Mr. Collins and his five cousins at a suitable hour to Meryton. Upon entering the drawing-room, the girls were pleased to be informed that Mr. Wickham had accepted their uncle's invitation and was already present in the house. After receiving the information, and after they all had sat down, Mr. Phillips and Mr. Collins conversed about Mr. Collins' opinion of Meryton. Mr. Collins was highly complementary of the kind welcome he had received, the picturesque views in the area, and the diversity of stores in the town. Once Mrs. Phillips was included in the conversation, they engaged in lengthy discussion, with Mrs. Phillips giving her fervent support to everything Mr. Collins said.
To the younger girls, who had nothing to do but to wish for an instrument and examine their own indifferent imitations of china on the mantelpiece, the interval of waiting appeared very long. It was over at last, however. The gentlemen did approach, and when Mr. Wickham walked into the room, Elizabeth felt that she had neither been seeing him before, nor thinking of him since, with the smallest degree of unreasonable admiration. The officers of the —shire were in general a very creditable, gentlemanlike set. The best of them were of the present party, but Mr. Wickham was far above them all in person, countenance, air, and walk. Mr. Wickham was the happy man towards whom almost every female eye was turned, and Elizabeth was the happy woman by whom he finally seated himself. The agreeable manner in which he immediately fell into conversation, though it was only on its being a wet night, made her feel that the commonest, dullest, most threadbare topic might be rendered interesting by the skill of the speaker.
With such rivals for the notice of the fair as Mr. Wickham and the officers, Mr. Collins seemed to sink into insignificance. To the young ladies, he certainly was nothing; but he had still at intervals a kind listener in Mrs. Phillips, and was by her watchfulness, most abundantly supplied with coffee and muffin. When the card-tables were set up, he had the chance to reciprocate her kindness by joining in a game of whist. Mr. Collins was exceptionally adept at the game of whist, as he frequently played it with his employees when there was a lull in business.
Mr. Wickham did not play at whist, and with ready delight was he received at the other table between Elizabeth and Lydia. At first there seemed danger of Lydia's engrossing him entirely, for she was a most determined talker, but being likewise extremely fond of lottery tickets, she soon grew too much interested in the game, too eager in making bets and exclaiming after prizes to have attention for anyone in particular. Allowing for the common demands of the game, Mr. Wickham was therefore at leisure to talk to Elizabeth. She was very willing to hear him, though what she chiefly wished to hear she could not hope to be told—the history of his acquaintance with Mr. Darcy. She dared not even mention that gentleman. Her curiosity, however, was unexpectedly relieved. Mr. Wickham began the subject himself. He inquired how far Netherfield was from Meryton, and after receiving her answer, asked in a hesitating manner how long Mr. Darcy had been staying there.
"About a month," said Elizabeth, and then, unwilling to let the subject drop, added, "He is a man of very large property in Derbyshire, I understand."
"Yes," replied Mr. Wickham, "his estate there is a noble one. A clear ten thousand per annum. You could not have met with a person more capable of giving you certain information on that head than myself, for I have been connected with his family in a particular manner from my infancy."
Elizabeth could not but look surprised.
"You may well be surprised, Miss Bennet, at such an assertion, after seeing, as you probably might, the very cold manner of our meeting yesterday. Are you much acquainted with Mr. Darcy?"
"As much as I ever wish to be," cried Elizabeth very warmly. "I have spent four days in the same house with him, and I think him very disagreeable."
"I have no right to give my opinion," said Wickham, "as to his being agreeable or otherwise. I am not qualified to form one. I have known him too long and too well to be a fair judge. It is impossible for me to be impartial. But I believe your opinion of him would in general astonish—and perhaps you would not express it quite so strongly anywhere else. Here you are in your own family."
Elizabeth thought well of Mr. Wickham for his scruples. She thought on what Mr. Collins had said about gentlemen telling falsehoods about each other. Although Mr. Wickham did mention Mr. Darcy in their conversation, he was honest and open about the fact that he could not provide an unbiased opinion and refrained from insulting the other gentleman. Nevertheless, she wanted to make it clear to the gentleman that Meryton had no affection for Mr. Darcy and, regardless of what their dispute was, it would not affect how they viewed Mr. Wickham.
"I say no more here than I would in any house in the area, except Netherfield. He is not well liked in the area. Do not think Mr. Darcy's opinion will be mirrored by everyone. Everyone here is disgusted by his pride."
"I cannot pretend to be sorry," said Wickham, after a short interruption, "that he or that any man should not be estimated beyond their deserts; but with him I believe it does not often happen. The world is blinded by his fortune and consequence, or frightened by his high and imposing manners, and sees him only as he chooses to be seen."
"Even in my short acquaintance with him, I have found him to be very ill-mannered and unsociable."
Wickham only shook his head in response. "I wonder," said he, at the next opportunity of speaking, "whether he is likely to be in this country much longer."
"I do not at all know, but I heard nothing of his going away when I was at Netherfield. I hope your plans in favour of the —shire will not be affected by his being in the neighbourhood."
"Oh, no! It is not for me to be driven away by Mr. Darcy. If he wishes to avoid seeing me, he must go. We are not on friendly terms, and it always gives me pain to meet him, but I have no reason for avoiding him but what I might proclaim before all the world, a sense of very great ill-usage, and most painful regrets at his being what he is. His father, Miss Bennet, the late Mr. Darcy, was one of the best men that ever breathed, and the truest friend I ever had. I can never be in company with this Mr. Darcy without being grieved to the soul by a thousand tender recollections. His behaviour to myself has been scandalous; but I verily believe I could forgive him anything and everything, rather than his disappointing the hopes and disgracing the memory of his father."
Elizabeth was intrigued by Mr. Wickham's story and wanted to ask more, but her cousin's earlier warning and the delicacy of the topic kept her silent. Mr. Wickham then began to speak on more general topics, Meryton, the neighbourhood, the society, appearing highly pleased with all that he had yet seen, and speaking of the latter with gentle but very intelligible gallantry.
"It was the prospect of constant society, and good society," he added, "which was my chief inducement to enter the —shire. I knew it to be a most respectable, agreeable corps. My friend Denny tempted me further by his account of their present quarters, and the very great attentions and excellent acquaintances Meryton had procured them. Society, I own, is necessary to me. I have been a disappointed man, and my spirits will not bear solitude. I must have employment and society. A military life is not what I was intended for, but circumstances have now made it eligible. The church ought to have been my profession—I was brought up for the church, and I should at this time have been in possession of a most valuable living, had it pleased the gentleman we were speaking of just now."
Mr. Collins had drawn near enough to hear their conversation and interjected here.
"You were denied a living?" he inquired.
"Yes—the late Mr. Darcy bequeathed me the next presentation of the best living in his gift. He was my godfather and was excessively attached to me. I cannot do justice to his kindness. He meant to provide for me amply and thought he had done it; but when the living fell, it was given elsewhere."
"If the living was in the will, or even mentioned in letters written in his hand, you could seek legal redress. Most likely you would be awarded the value of the living," said Mr. Collins.
"There was just such an informality in the terms of the bequest as to give me no hope from law. A man of honour could not have doubted the intention, but Mr. Darcy chose to doubt it, or to treat it as a merely conditional recommendation, and to assert that I had forfeited all claim to it by extravagance, imprudence, in short anything or nothing. Certain it is that the living became vacant two years ago, exactly as I was of an age to hold it, and that it was given to another man; and no less certain is it that I cannot accuse myself of having really done anything to deserve to lose it. I have a warm, unguarded temper, and I may have spoken my opinion of him, and to him, too freely. I can recall nothing worse. But the fact is, that we are very different sort of men, and that he hates me."
"If it was conditional, as such bequests often are, and you did not meet the requirements laid out, then Mr. Darcy was within his rights to deny you. If not, I recommend you seek another solicitor, if the living is valuable enough to pay for their services."
"I have endeavoured to do so, but expense must usually be covered beforehand."
"Cousin Elizabeth, am I right in saying that Mr. Phillips is a solicitor?"
"He is. I am positive I could convince my uncle to review your claim, Mr. Wickham. He may be able to assist."
Mr. Phillips, having heard his name, came over to the group. Mr. Collins explained the issue to Mr. Phillips, who agreed that he would at least look at whatever documentation there was.
"I am quite sure that Mr. Darcy will not consent to have the case reviewed, as most of the documents are in his possession," said Mr. Wickham in reply to the offer.
"I can speak to him on your behalf," offered Mr. Phillips.
"I could not put you to such trouble." Mr. Wickham's expression shifted to one of dread as he became aware of his precarious situation. Both of the other gentlemen noticed this, and that Mr. Wickham's hand was trembling nervously. With the feeling of being penned in, Mr. Wickham recognised he had limited options. He expressed his thanks to the other gentlemen for the pleasant evening, and quickly went away, suddenly remembering some essential business that could not be put off.
"I would not believe half of what that man says, and the other half I would season generously with salt," said Mr. Collins to Elizabeth.
"You believe he was slandering Mr. Darcy?" she asked.
"If not slander, something close to it. He would not even permit me to speak to Mr. Darcy on his behalf," said Mr. Phillips. "An honest man would not have qualms about a solicitor looking into such a matter."
"Could he simply not wish his private matters exposed to such scrutiny?" asked Elizabeth in defence of him.
"Perhaps, but his rapid departure makes me believe that he knows himself in the wrong. A living, even if it is as small as the one in Meryton, is worth two thousand pounds or more. I cannot imagine having such scruples that I would forfeit two thousand pounds that I believed rightfully mine," said Mr. Phillips.
For the rest of the evening, Elizabeth was often pestered by others asking why Mr. Wickham went away, to which she responded with the excuse he had made. Lydia talked incessantly of lottery tickets, of the fish she had lost and the fish she had won. Elizabeth was mostly quiet, pondering her exchange with Mr. Wickham and the opinions her uncle and cousin had expressed.