Longbourn
December, 1811
A full moon shone proudly in a frosted sky, beaming down on Longbourn and spattering ivy-shadows across brick washed in silver. Golden light beamed in counterpoint from the windows into the yard. Inside, warm and cozy, a small crowd milled about. Firelight and candle light glanced brightly off of several cheerful red coats, as well as a polished table groaning under the weight of a bounty of tea and coffee, cakes and sweetmeats.
Aaron Gardiner sat on a chair in the east sitting room, while his brother Edward and his wife, Madeline, took their places on a small couch nearby. Madeline, along with their four children, had arrived at Longbourn two days previously. The children were in the nursery, being cared for and entertained by Jane and two nursemaids, and Edward and Madeline were sitting together, murmuring softly to one another, obviously enjoying the time together after a brief separation. It made Aaron miss his dear wife Sophia very much, and he looked forward to the day when the ship carrying her and their three younger children finally finished its long voyage from India to London.
Three of their nieces were present in the room along with their friend, Miss Maria Lucas, and a number of militia officers, all resplendent in their red coats and white breeches. Lydia, Kitty and Maria focused exclusively on the young gentlemen, but Elizabeth, whose manners were better than those of her sisters, was careful to keep her own relations in the conversation.
"Is it pleasant to experience an English Christmas, Uncle?" Elizabeth asked. "Christmas must have been a very different experience in India."
"India has an exceedingly hot climate," Aaron agreed. "I find myself both relishing the cold of a Hertfordshire December along with shivering uncontrollably at times. As I told your other uncle Gardiner, my blood has thinned after many years in the tropics."
"I have found this winter here in Hertfordshire to be exceptionally pleasant," Lieutenant Wickham said with an admiring glance at Elizabeth, "though I confess that during the Christmas season, my heart pines away for the colder climes of Derbyshire. Alas, I can never return to my home, so I must be content to stay here. Indeed, with the blessing of such fine society, I find I cannot repine much."
"Poor Mr. Wickham," Lydia cried sympathetically. "That horrible Mr. Darcy has treated you so cruelly. If I were you, I would challenge him to a duel over his lack of honor!"
Wickham struck a dramatic pose as he protested, "Not at all, Miss Lydia, not at all. Regardless of the fact that Mr. Darcy has done me great wrong, I could never strike against him in such a way as it would taint the memory of his beloved sire, who was my own godfather."
"My apologies, Lieutenant Wickham," Aaron Gardiner commented, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "I am unaware of the details of your struggles. Perhaps you would be willing to explain the situation to me?"
George Wickham did so, with great enthusiasm. He had his story well-rehearsed, of how the elder Mr. Darcy had loved George, the son of his steward, and had paid for his education at Cambridge and provided for his godson in his will by awarding Wickham a valuable living in the church. Of how the younger Mr. Darcy, filled with jealousy and cruelty towards his father's godson, had denied Wickham the Kympton living which was his by right and honor. Of how Wickham now struggled to keep body and soul together, though always with nobility and grace.
Elizabeth, Lydia, Kitty, and Maria Lucas all wore looks of outrage, sympathy, or both, but Aaron merely lifted a curious eyebrow.
"Did you attend Cambridge or Oxford?"
"Cambridge, sir," the other man replied, his lips tightening. This older man, with his penetrating brown eyes, unfashionable clothing, and tanned and roughened skin, was not like the traditional men of Wickham's acquaintance and thus was difficult to read.
"And when did you take orders, Mr. Wickham?"
The militia man cleared his throat and said, "Well, as to that, when Darcy refused me the living, it seemed pointless to be ordained."
Gardiner frowned, even as he shot a gaze at Miss Elizabeth, who now wore a puzzled crease between her eyebrows, "I fear I do not understand, lieutenant. This Mr. Darcy could hardly award you the living if you were not ordained. Nor is ordination the work of the moment, as you would have been required to spend a year as a deacon under an established rector. Surely it was not reasonable that your patron's son to allow the living to remain unfilled for a year or more? That would not be a responsible act on his part."
Wickham gulped and shot a nervous glance at Elizabeth, whose face was now blank, her eyes wary. "I fear that after I graduated from Cambridge, I had very little to live on and therefore it was impossible for me to make time for ordination, Mr. Gardiner," he declared. "If Darcy had provided me the support I needed, I would have been ordained and settled in Kympton."
"And what have you been doing since you left Cambridge?"
Wickham took a deep breath and forced a smile, "Many things, Mr. Gardiner. I fear, however, that the night grows late. I must depart, as I would not wish to displease my commander."
"By all means, Mr. Wickham," Gardiner replied sarcastically. "It would be most unwise for you to enrage a man who holds power over your life and well-being."
Wickham flinched slightly at this, but turned his practiced smile and bow towards the coterie of women gazing at him. All but Elizabeth blushed and curtsied and he departed, feeling confident that he had not lost their esteem.
"You were rude to poor Mr. Wickham," Lydia cried indignantly once the handsome lieutenant had left the parlor.
Gardiner leaned back and took a sip of tea before saying, "I dislike liars, Miss Lydia, and I dislike slanderers even more."
"You think he was lying, Uncle?" Elizabeth asked quietly.
"Certainly. This story of the denied living is absurd. If the living was truly destined for Mr. Wickham, his patron's son would have legally been unable to deny Wickham his due."
"He told me before," Elizabeth said slowly, casting her mind back to her first discussion with Wickham on the matter, "that there was an informality to the bequest."
"Utter nonsense, my dear niece," Gardiner said firmly. "My own stepson is currently embroiled in complex legal matters concerning a legacy. I assure you that many in his extended family are unhappy with his inheritance, but the law is on his side. Furthermore, if Mr. Wickham did not wish to defame his godfather's name, why is the younger Mr. Darcy's supposed perfidy known far and wide? I know Mr. Wickham's type and give no quarter to such men. He was blessed with a valuable education, good looks, and a charming personality. Even if this Darcy has done him wrong, and I doubt he has, Mr. Wickham has advantages far greater than many a steward's son. He is in his late twenties and apparently has done nothing substantial with his life. I too am the son of a man of trade, and when my life situation grew difficult, I worked hard to better my situation."
"You have always been extraordinarily hard working, ambitious, and committed, Brother," Edward Gardiner said, entering the conversation.
"I suppose that is true," Aaron agreed, rising to his feet. "Perhaps I was a little harsh in my assessment of Mr. Wickham's lack of accomplishments. But regarding the living, I am quite certain he is being deceptive."
"Well, I think he is wonderful," Lydia declared pettishly, jumping to her feet. "Mr. Darcy is rude and proud and he insulted Lizzy. Mr. Wickham is generous and handsome and charming. I think you were terribly cruel to him."
She flounced out of the parlor in search of delicacies to eat and Kitty and Maria followed her, leaving Elizabeth with her two uncles and aunt.
"Thank you, Uncle Gardiner," Elizabeth murmured. "You have given me much to think of."
"I am glad, my dear," the older man said quietly. "I have not known you long, but you obviously have a generous heart. That is all to the good, but it would be regrettable if you were to blindly support a man who is not worthy of your compassion and friendship. There are those who are worth sacrificing for and those who are not."
Elizabeth considered this for a full minute and then nodded ruefully. "Mr. Darcy insulted me the very day we first laid eyes on one another," she mused, "and I fear that I allowed my outrage to taint my view of the gentleman. I do believe Mr. Darcy to be above his company, but perhaps he is not the villain I thought him to be."
"Or perhaps he is," Aaron returned cynically. "It is, regrettably, possible that both Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham are at fault in this matter. We do not know the details, after all. Thus, it is unwise to speculate."
"That is true," Elizabeth said thoughtfully.
/
Rockhill
The Earl of Chartham's Estate
Kent
March, 1790
Rockhill was an expansive estate, vast lush acres sprawling about the elaborate manse, dotted with tumble-down cottages and flocks of white sheep. Some ways away from the ornate main house, on the other side of a copse of trees, a ramshackle lodge huddled. Storms were a dread to its inhabitants, causing alarming creaks throughout and water dripping miserably through a roof in disrepair.
"The baby is awake, Mrs. Hamilton."
"Thank you, Polly," Mrs. Sophia Hamilton said wearily. "I will go and fetch her."
"No, you wait and I'll fetch the little one," Polly replied with a smile.
Her employer nodded in relief and leaned back against her chair, releasing a deep sigh of exhaustion. The baby was still up at least once at night, and even when both her children slept, she was often kept awake by worry.
Polly, her maid of all work, walked into the room carrying baby Rebekah Hamilton in her arms. Sophia took the little one into her arms and began nursing her. Twenty minutes later, the child was replete with milk, and Sophia stood up to change her nappy.
There was a knock and Polly rushed to the door as Sophia took a deep breath and straightened her back. She received very few visitors as she was still in mourning for her husband, dead these five months. Those visitors she did receive were often less than pleasant.
"Mr. Aaron Gardiner," Polly announced, her face alight with excitement.
Shock caused her to tighten her grip on her baby even as she swayed slightly in disbelief.
"Sophia … Mrs. Hamilton," Mr. Gardiner began as he rushed forward. "Sit down, please. I should not have startled you so."
"Aaron?" she murmured, her overly thin face pale with wonder. "Is it truly you?"
"It is, my dear," he answered softly, casting a meaningful glance at Polly. The woman smiled and curtsied before retreating out the door, leaving them alone.
"I am so sorry, Aaron. So very sorry."
"It was not your fault," the man replied sternly. "None of it was your fault. Your father threatened mine and I was sent away. You did nothing wrong."
"My father," Sophia repeated, her eyes distant. "I believe I hate him, Aaron."
"Hush, Sophia. We were star crossed lovers, like Romeo and Juliet, except that we are, by the grace of God, still alive. I came here as soon as I heard about Mr. Hamilton's death. I am sorry about the loss of your husband, or perhaps I am not. How did he treat you, my dear?"
Mrs. Hamilton leaned back against her chair and said, "We usually lived apart since Peter was in the army. What time we spent together was not unpleasant. We were not close; indeed, we had nothing in common, but he was a kind husband. Peter was the best of the Earl of Chartham's sons by far."
"You have two children, I understand?"
"Yes, Rebekah is but four months old and Philip is two-and-a-half years of age. Philip is currently the fifth in the line of succession for the Earldom, which is why the old Earl insists on taking him away."
"Taking him away?" Gardiner demanded in alarm.
"Yes, we are currently relegated to this hunting lodge because I have not yet submitted to his directive that Philip be raised with his other grandson, the son of William, the Earl's eldest. If Chartham was a better man, I would not hesitate so much, but he is an ungodly, vindictive, licentious, haughty individual. I will not allow my son to be raised under his direction and control."
She stood up and began pacing the room, clutching her baby daughter to her chest, "There is very little money left from my dowry as my husband was not skilled at managing our finances. I do not know how we will live, Aaron. I do not."
Aaron stepped in her path and she looked up, startled.
"Marry me, Sophia."
For a moment, she felt dawning hope and then her face fell, "We cannot. I am of age now, but the Earl will interfere if the banns are called."
"I have a common license in my pocket," Aaron replied tenderly. "There is a clergyman in Hunsford who is a friend from Cambridge, an old confidant of mine. We can proceed there this very morning and be secretly married by noon, and on our way shortly afterwards. I know Polly has been with you for a long time, and I am certain she will come with us to help with the children. I promise you that the Earl will never find you or your babies."
Now hope was surging, but she shook her head, "Where would we go? Surely it is not safe to return to Hertfordshire. Your father is no doubt still fearful of the influence of mine."
"Can you trust me to take you to India, Sophia? I have spent the last years in India making my fortune. I promise you that your children will be mine, and I will do everything in my power to raise and love and protect and guide them."
Worry and doubt gave way to relief and dawning happiness and tears of thankfulness, "Yes, yes, Aaron. Yes!"
/
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Author Note: Thank you for reading and commenting! In case you're interested, I recently published a new story called 'Encounters with Elizabeth'. It's available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited - check it out! :-)