Chapter 17~ Vain Pretentions
Over the following days, they walked in the gardens frequently and Darcy described his childhood. He explained what he recalled of the fun he had with the other boy in his nursery, his loneliness when his friend was sent away and spoke of going away himself.
"My nurse, Mrs. Wickham, was very fond of me and father worried I was too indulged." He looked at his companion, "I suppose you think the same."
She responded wryly, "I am certain of it."
Fearing the results were he to tease her further he continued his story, "She had to leave her rooms at Pemberley before I went to Eton. It did always trouble me that her own little boy was sent away, so I tried to comfort her by reminding her of him. She warned me not to make a friend of him at school because even as a little boy he was jealous and resentful. Her advice to be careful of him was not understood until later."
What Mrs. Wickham did not tell "Little Willie" – as she had called him to his mortification – or anyone at all was that she was jealous herself and did not want the friendship with her son to be more important than her own influence over him. Knowing herself to be both young and handsome she hoped to ingratiate herself with the lonely widower by her devotion to his son. She coddled, favoured and spoiled the child so that he would be attached to her keeping her at Pemberley and closely involved with the master. Her husband wondered at the arrangement, their own handsome cottage was so close, but he was too loyal to openly question either party. The elder Mr. Darcy soon understood her motives and never permitted her to see him alone. Displeased with her influence on his son he limited their interactions once the boy grew older but feared depriving him of the only mother figure he had too soon. She kept her place at Pemberley only until Fitzwilliam went to school. At her husband's death, she was sent off the estate altogether; she was given a cottage and a moderate income on a distant estate.
Darcy shared only what he understood of the circumstances with Elizabeth, who was thereby moved with compassion for Wickham, a young boy sent from home and deprived of his mother. This was not what Darcy wished to achieve but he could not blame her and began to feel a bit of pity for the boy himself. Mrs. Wickham had told him of the little nursery room squabbles that justified her choice to send her own son away. He now understood them in a different light. Any boy would be jealous of his mother's attention and affection. It did not excuse his later behaviour at Cambridge. His actions on the evening of his own father's death was enough to disgust anyone. The trouble was how to explain it to a maiden, what ought he disclose and what was best left concealed. He decided – to add credibility to his story and avoid allowing his desire to convince her lead him to say more than he should – he would ask Richard to meet her in the garden one day. His cousin agreed to the arrangement with better grace than most when asked to rise early as a favour. The colonel's appearance surprised Elizabeth, but after some light conversation he introduced the subject he had come to explain and soon disclosed the relevant events.
"They had neither of them made any effort to become acquainted at Cambridge. I believe it was an awkward circumstance for both men. Darcy had returned to Pemberley a year earlier, having completed his course of study. It was believed that young Wickham remained to receive further instruction in preparation for taking orders. Late in the fall term Old Wickham's health declined suddenly. An express was immediately sent to Wickham informing him of the trouble and further explaining that if he wished to wait, young Mr. Darcy could collect him in two days time. My cousin, filled with pity for his father's friend, concluded his business in London and travelled to Cambridge a day early. I accompanied him, Wickham, however, was not on campus. After asking a number of students we were directed back to London where he was discovered in a tavern breakfasting with other young men from both Cambridge and Oxford. These gentlemen had come to observe and make bets on a very brutal sport involving cockerals. Many of them proceeded afterwards to a different establishment that I will not dishonour you by further describing. One of the young men we were somewhat acquainted with approached us and disclosed that the very Wickham now passing himself off as a man of the cloth and making false allegations about my cousin was involved in it all and was not able to pay his debts leaving Mr. Thorpe without the means to return home. Darcy very generously paid his debt, found the bleary eyed Wickham and delivered the scoundrel to Pemberley only in time for his father's funeral. I cannot blame Darcy for wishing to have no more to do with the man after that encounter."
"This is most shocking- I can hardly believe it of him; he seems so very principled - - He suggested very similar things about your cousin and as little as I like to speak of it my own experiences with each man gives more credibility to Mr. Wickham's story. I do not know what to think. I believe I have walked too far today and I would like to return; I have a small headache."
Turning immediately towards the lane that led to the parsonage, he attempted to convince her, "I am very sorry to hear it and am most concerned that you can put such little faith in my cousin. Darcy does have a witness, Wickham I surmise has only his word?"
"It is my own experiences with both gentlemen- but you have made me wonder-"
"Darcy does enjoy flattery but he abhors dishonesty. He is not a liar and I know he is most desirous of your trust."
"Please, I can speak of this no more – and tell him that I will not walk tomorrow. I wish only to rest."
The good colonel was very concerned that he had not accomplished his task. Darcy was despondent but he could not deny that his own behaviour towards her had been less than gentlemanly and that he owed her an apology, loath as he was to claim he was sorry that he kissed her.
Darcy had not yet understood that he had imposed on her. That he did not could only be explained by the easy way gentlemen in his set spoke of ladies. He was satisfied with his behaviour because he had responded to her resistence and had pressed her no further. To Darcy it was unthinkable that merely by placing her in a vulnerable position where his strength and knowledge of the world were met only by her defenseless innocence, was itself an imposition. Though he had indeed walked on the very edges of propriety, he never had crossed those lines with any gently bred lady and found, while still at school, that he could not justify using the services of women willing to sell their favours. When he had debased himself in that way in his youth he felt the emptiness of the interactions and would no longer join the other young gentlemen in their debauches. These reflections made him feel like a perfectly righteous, upstanding and honourable gentleman.
When he reflected on the moment he chose to kiss Miss Elizabeth in the garden it had been the result of having spoken aloud his wicked wish to find her on her walk to Netherfield. The thought had indeed crossed his mind and he honourably dimissed it as unworthy. It was only resurrected for the sake of a bon mot. The idea teased him afterwards and when Miss Bingley suggested a marriage to Miss Elizabeth, it seemed suddenly very enticing. When he kissed her, a liberty he did not indulge lightly, he had already decided to marry her. Astoundingly, she proved that she required more wooing. This he considered a novel and exciting task. Her continued reticence at the ball after he had made his intentions public began to feel like a great deal of bother with little promise of felicity. Her family's vulgarity sullied even an eventual success and he knew he must escape before he was beyond all hope.
Meeting the woman who looked beyond his person and possessions after his attempts to forget her renewed his determination. Faced with another challenge would he meet it and prevail or would he choose once again to retreat? The other perhaps more pertinent point to consider was Elizabeth's own wishes. She did misjudge him but he could not deny that his own faulty behaviour vindicated her. It would be as wrong to dismiss her wishes as it would be foolish to abandon such an exemplary woman over small misunderstandings and he was torn.
When two days later she would not attend tea at his Aunt Catherine's he decided the best gift he could offer her was his absence – for a time. He found her in the grove the next day to leave her with a note of explanation and a brief farewell. Elizabeth was not displeased to see him but would not acknowledge her own weakness. The note, carefully penned and not very long, did bring her comfort.
Dear Miss Bennet,
I know not if my attentions will ever be welcome to you, but until you give me a clear no, I fear I must continue foolishly to hope. I know I am at fault with respect to my friend Bingley and I will do all in my power to make amends. I fear it will require too little effort for what I deserve; Bingley is generous and most forgiving. I will then travel North to request your father's permission to court you formally. To further prove that my intentions are honourable, I will bring with me a draft of settlement papers and a special license – not with any desire to compel you – simply to give into your keeping. Whenever you wish it you may be the one to compel me to the altar. I will attend the wedding, and if you still cannot say yes to a courtship I will not trouble you further. I cannot like that I have given you so little reason to believe in my sincerity. I am in earnest and this letter alone can prove the honour of my intentions. Hoping someday to call you my bride, I remain yours,
F. D.
To remove all possibility of doubt I, Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, affix my seal below
To say she was astonished by the conclusion would not adequately describe her feelings. She also felt relief – that he had made his intentions perfectly clear, almost absurdly so. His desire to make things right with Bingley, and that for her final fortnight in Kent he would not be present were additional comforts. The next morning, little more than a week before Easter, Mr. Darcy took his leave of Rosings.
She was free to think or to avoid thinking of him when she wished. Sadly, however much as she wished it, she could not escape thinking of him. She had been struggling with guilt for having permitted Mr. Darcy to take liberties with her person, not only the kiss but his other impositions the touches and the dances. It was in her feminine nature to want to please. She longed for the approval of others. At first it was her parents; as she grew, friends and acquaintances, especially perhaps handsome, eligible gentlemen took their place. This much she knew of herself and she scorned that weakness in her. Was this not also vanity? That was a truth she was very reluctant to acknowledge.
It was only Mr. Darcy's breach of propriety that Elizabeth knew she could accuse him of. Was she being overly scrupulous to judge him so harshly? That it is also in the masculine nature to conquer she did not comprehend for she lived in civilised England among ladies and gentlemen. For a man – even Mr. Darcy – used to others bending easily to his will, it is not remarkable that he would not consider it worthy of reflection. It was the very rules of society – the rules that made them behave as ladies and gentlemen – that ought, had he no better guide in his own conscience, to have served as his teacher. That lesson began to work itself out once he found himself alone in London.
