“Of Wickham’s particular sins, I shall say little, except to note they include accumulating debts without the means or intention to pay them, womanizing, gaming, debauchery, and a general indifference to the plight of those he wrongs.
“One matter of which I shall speak plainly is the family living he often uses as proof of my unjust revenge against him. The livingwasmentioned in my father’s will, but it was a possibility if Wickham wished to pursue the church as a profession. My father requested that I assist Wickham with the living, and if he did not, then to do what I could to help him in his chosen profession. As Wickham never wished to become a parson, the living is a moot point, though he likes to tell anyone who will listen that I withheld it from him.
“Of more importance to this tale is the sum I gave him instead of the living. Though I knew by this time that any money he received would flow through his fingers like water, I thought so ill of him that the loss seemed a bargain in exchange for his absence from my life.”
When Darcy fell silent, Bennet regarded him. He was not saying everything, but Bennet saw no need to press him on it—whatever Darcy was keeping back was almost certainly family secrets that he had no obligation to share. There was one matter of which he was curious.
“If you do not mind my asking, how much did you pay him to leave?”
Darcy’s chin flexed, but he did not hesitate to respond. “Three thousand pounds.”
Whatever he had thought, such a handsome sum had never crossed Bennet’s mind. “That was generous indeed—the living attached to your estate must be a princely position to warrant that much in ready funds.”
“My cousin berated me for giving him so much,” replied Darcy, shaking his head with disgust. “I will own that the thought of being rid of Wickham ruled my actions—I did not bargain as hard as I should have.”
“And yet this Wickham is now a militia officer,” observed Hurst.
“As I said,” replied Darcy, “Wickham does not remain attached to his money for long. My sources informed me the entire amount was gone within two years.”
“That is beyond a customary measure of dissipation,” said Bennet, eyebrows raised.
“It is,” agreed Darcy. “Yet, when the living fell vacant a year ago, Wickham dared to approach me for the preferment, and this even when he was not an ordained minister.”
“If I did not know how truthful you are,” commented Hurst, “I might wonder if you have embellished this account.”
“Trust me, Hurst,” replied Darcy, “if anything, I have understated George Wickham’s sins.”
“That is all well and good,” replied Bennet, now coming to the point, “but I have one question. Did you never think to warn the neighborhood about the viper in our midst?”
When Darcy roused himself to protest, Bennet held up his hand. “There is no need to say more than you must, Darcy, and I understand your aversion to this man. Yet you could have at least given us a warning. This Wickham has been in Meryton for a month now—there is no telling how much debt he has orhow many women he has importuned. If you recall, I have five daughters I must protect.”
“I mentioned the matter to Miss Elizabeth,” said Darcy, though Bennet could hear the defensive quality in his response.
“Oh? Then it did not take root; Elizabeth said nothing on the subject. What did you tell her? It is not like Lizzy to keep something like that to herself.”
Darcy appeared embarrassed. “The subject arose at Bingley’s ball. When she accused me of blasting Wickham’s prospects, I told her to take care, as Wickham’s friendships never last long.”
Hurst regarded Darcy with the incredulous stare that Bennet knew adorned his face. “Do you call that a warning, Darcy? It seems Miss Elizabeth already believed Wickham—do you suppose that was enough to put her on her guard?”
The justice of the charge appeared to reach Darcy, as he grimaced. “Again, I must blame my disinclination to have anything to do with Wickham’s intrigues for my actions. Perhaps I might have thought better and offered a more substantial warning.”
“Then what should we do about him?”
“Inform the colonel and let him handle it,” opined Hurst. “Darcy is correct—Wickham is not his responsibility.”
“That would be for the best,” said Darcy, nodding to Hurst. “Should Wickham’s actions have caused trouble with the merchants through my inaction, I shall clear his debts once more—but I shall not do so again.”
Bennet eyed him, knowing even this much was difficult for Darcy to extend himself. With any luck, should Wickham have accumulated debts in Meryton, the colonel could discover it and send him to debtor’s prison. Then they would be rid of him forever.
“Very well, I agree,” said Bennet. “Let us hope the damage he has done is minimal.”
Then Bennet turned to Bingley, who had remained silent, likely eager to stay beneath Bennet’s notice. The man flinched when he saw Bennet’s eyes on him, but he stiffened his spine and returned Bennet’s gaze without looking away. Given what Bennet suspected of the man’s sister, that was an encouraging sign—Jane, though confident, was not one to take the lead, which meant her husband needed to be capable of firmness when the situation demanded. This was even more important when faced with a sister who was of a forceful disposition.
“Now, let us speak of your sudden return, sir.” Bennet glanced at Hurst. “I understand Hurst here lured you to Hertfordshire again. I shall not inquire into the reasons for your absence, as I do not think they signify. What you should know is that Jane has been miserable this past month, and I will not have her peace of mind destroyed again.
“Let me be blunt, Bingley—if you are here to toy with Jane’s feelings, you can get in your carriage and return to London.”
“Mr. Bennet!” gasped Bingley.
