Copyright 2023 Elizabeth Frerichs
Cross-posted on elizabethfrerichs dot com and wattpad
He signed the letter, sealed it, and placed it in the pile of correspondence to be taken out. With a mental growl at himself for not bringing more books to Netherfield, he took up one of his newest volumes—a biography of Oliver Cromwell—and attempted to immerse himself in Mr. Cromwell's troubles.
By the time Bingley returned to the house, Darcy had progressed through restiveness and was downright champing at the bit. When his friend requested a conversation, Darcy was more than willing to acquiesce simply for the distraction.
"How is your headache?" Bingley asked in a low voice.
Darcy grimaced. "Better than it was this morning. Was there something in particular you wished to discuss?" he asked in a normal tone of voice.
Bingley shrugged. "Only if you wish to."
"I would welcome it."
"We have been invited to dinner tonight."
For a moment, Darcy wished he could take his statement back. "By whom?"
"Mrs. Phillips. She is Mrs. Bennet's sister."
"The one who is married to the attorney in Meryton?"
Bingley nodded. "The Misses Bennets were not at home today, but I met them in Meryton and escorted them to their aunt's home. She is quite congenial and kindly invited us to join her little dinner party tonight."
"Dinner party?"
"She and her husband have invited some of the officers for dinner, and they expanded their party to include the Misses Bennets and their cousin, Mr. Collins. In addition, she invited me and you—and Caroline and the Hursts, but I cannot see them wishing to attend."
"Rather short notice."
"Yes, I was quite surprised that she was willing to add so many people to her invitation this morning—truly, it shows her kind heart."
Or her lack of manners.
"She did apologise for the short notice," Bingley continued. "Apparently, she had intended to hold the party tomorrow evening, but her husband is called away to London on business for the next several days and she did not wish to put off having it."
"I see."
"You do not have to attend—I told her that I would be delighted to do so, but that I would not dare to answer on your behalf."
Darcy frowned. Would spending an evening with the officers be preferable to another repetition of the Bingley sisters' conversation? It would at least be something different. Although . . . . His eyes narrowed. "Did she invite Mr. Wickham as well, and does he plan to attend?"
"Oh, do you know Mr. Wickham?" Bingley asked. "I have only just met him! He did not say that you are acquainted. He seems most congenial."
Darcy scoffed. "Wickham always seems congenial until one comes to know him."
"Is—are—how are you acquainted with the man?" Bingley asked with concern.
"He is the son of my father's steward. Though his father was an honourable man, Wickham is not. The apple cannot have fallen farther from the tree in this case."
"Are we speaking of the same Mr. Wickham? He does not at all seem so bad."
Darcy's eyes slid closed, the dam holding back all the times when others had chosen Wickham—most agonisingly, the fact that his father had chosen Wickham over his own son—weakened from his earlier musings, sprung open, flooding him with pain. Even his dearest friend questioned him. "I am certain," he said finally. "Mr. George Wickham is—" He hesitated, trying to decide how to explain why he was so certain it was the same person. "I had heard that he might take a position in the —shire militia." Then, for good measure, he described Wickham as blond with a slim build.
"That does sound like the same man," Bingley agreed dubiously. "I did not speak to him much; perhaps his flaws are more evident with more exposure."
"Sadly, his flaws are seldom apparent until after he quits a place. Wickham has a habit of leaving behind debts and ruined young women aplenty."
Bingley's eyebrows shot up. "Are the Bennets in danger?"
Darcy shook his head. "No. Wickham would not bother with them; besides, they would not further his quest for revenge against me."
"Revenge?" Bingley asked uncertainly.
Darcy nodded, his jaw clenched. "He believes he is entitled to hang upon my sleeve for the entirety of his life, as my father loved him dearly, but I have no desire to support his extravagant habits."
A crease appeared on Bingley's brow. "But why would he believe he is entitled to your wealth if he is not a relative?"
"Why indeed?" Darcy shook his head. "As I said, my father loved him dearly and so he provided him with every advantage. Before he died, my father recommended Wickham for a valuable family living. After his death, Wickham did not wish to become clergy, and so he accepted £3,000 in lieu of the living. I wanted nothing more to do with him and so I acquiesced. Unfortunately, Wickham spent all the money in a few short years and then came to me, arguing that I ought to give him the living anyway since he was now without means. I refused, having no desire to tie myself so thoroughly to the wretch and believing that I had fulfilled my father's wishes. Wickham was vehement in his recriminations.
"Ever since, he has been steadfast in his resentment and pursued revenge in the most painful way possible: he secretly pursued Georgiana. Fortunately, I learned of the matter and was able to protect her; apparently he was not content with that latest attempt and has followed me here. Or perhaps it is simply ill-chance that has brought him to Hertfordshire."
Or perhaps he simply longed with all his soul to gain justice himself. He would never attack the man in life, but in a dream . . . .
Bingley stared at him, his eyes wide. "I would never have guessed that he was such a scoundrel! Of course you do not wish to attend a gathering where he may be. If someone had treated me thus, I would not wish to see them ever again—let alone be forced to pretend congeniality in their presence."
"If Wickham believes that I will attend, I doubt he would actually come. Was he invited?"
"I do not know for certain. Mrs. Phillips promised to send her husband over to invite him as the younger Bennet girls were quite interested in him." He gave Darcy an apologetic look. "Apparently he cuts quite a figure."
"Wickham has ever been conscious of appearances—it allows him to present the veneer of respectability and makes others more susceptible to his lies."
"Do you wish to chance attending then?" Bingley asked.
Darcy considered. It was the sort of invitation that he was unlikely to accept most of the time—save for the sake of accompanying Bingley to keep him out of trouble: a house full of strangers, most of whom were of a lower class and thus more likely to attempt to use him for his wealth and position . . . then again, he was acquainted with several of the officers and the Bennets . . . and Miss Elizabeth would likely be there . . . .
It was the fact that he could not bear the thought of hearing the Bingley sisters' complaints yet again that decided him. "I would be glad to accept Mrs. Phillips's invitation."
"Jolly good! I shall send our acceptance over at once. And if Mr. Wickham dares to show his face, we do not have to stay," Bingley said fiercely.
"Thank you, Bingley," Darcy said, warmed that his friend would give up his own pleasure for the sake of Darcy's feelings and that he was siding with him rather than Wickham.
A/N: Thanks to all of you who have read, reviewed, followed, favorited—all that jazz :) I really appreciate all the encouragement!
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