“Mr. Wickham?” asked she, bewildered. Then something akin to comprehension appeared in her expression. “Mr. Wickham said he was acquainted with Mr. Darcy.”
Fitzwilliam’s eyes found Wickham, noting the interest with which he regarded Miss Elizabeth, the effortless charm that had led to the ruin of so many. Eyes hard, he turned back to Miss Bennet—now that he had Wickham in his sights, Miss Elizabeth was safe. But he needed to know more.
“It surprises me not at all that Wickham has spoken about Darcy. Tell me, Miss Bennet—what do you know of him?”
“Little other than what he has said himself. Mr. Wickham told Lizzy that he had been acquainted with Mr. Darcy all his life—the son of his father’s steward, or so I recall. There is some matter between them—the disposition of a clerical living, I believe.”
“And when did he come to Meryton?” asked Fitzwilliam, wanting the full story before he explained what he knew.
“In late November.” Miss Bennet’s eyes searched his. “Mr. Wickham took a commission in the regiment at the introduction of his friend, Mr. Denny.
“What is wrong? Is my sister in danger?”
“Wickham is not a good man, but he will not do anything in the sight of all the company.” Fitzwilliam grasped her hand and squeezed it for comfort. “Let me tell you all—then we can deal with George Wickham.”
“I am listening.”
The sense of determination that came over her was like a powerful lure, one that made him esteem her even more. Those who knew her saw Miss Bennet as a sweet woman, but one who did not put herself forward or call attention to herself, even if she claimed it by the force of her personality and her pretty face. There were unplumbed depths to her character, a sense of rightness about which she did not compromise, and a protective instinct toward her closest sister that any danger would arouse. Fitzwilliam knew how he felt about her—he would have her if he could, and if anyone raised concerns about her qualities, Fitzwilliam would laugh in their faces.
“Wickhamisthe son of my uncle’s steward. Darcy associated withhim as a boy, but Wickham showed his lack of principle at an early age. By the time they went to Cambridge, Wickham’s character was set in stone, the freedom from their fathers’ oversight allowing him to gamble, dally with women, cheat, and accumulate debts wherever he went.
“The living in question wasnota bequest—as you know, it takes more than just the gift of a living to make a man into a parson. Rather, Darcy’s father asked him to assist Wickham in whatever profession he chose, and if Wickham decided to make the church his career, then to offer the living to him should it become available.”
Fitzwilliam offered her a grim smile. “Refusing the living was about the only decent thing George Wickham has ever done—no man of his character should assume a role as the spiritual guide of an entire parish.”
“That is astonishing, Colonel Fitzwilliam,” said Miss Bennet, her surprise that of dismay rather than disbelief. “Then Mr. Darcy did not deny the living—Mr. Wickham did not do what he must to obtain it.”
“Yes, though it is worse than you know.” Fitzwilliam’s grim smile found Wickham, noting the man was still with Miss Elizabeth, no doubt redoubling his efforts to charm her. “When Wickham went to Pemberley for the last time, it was with a proposal of an immediate pecuniary advantage in place of the living. I would have laughed in his face. Darcy negotiated a sum of three thousand pounds to see the back of him.”
Miss Bennet gasped. “That is a handsome sum, Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
“Itisa handsome sum, but Mr. Wickham no longer has possession of it.”
“He dissipated three thousand pounds in five years?”
“When you include the one thousand pounds Darcy’s father bequeathed him and Wickham’s sense of all restraint fading away, you will understand that it was destined to happen. According to Darcy, who had him watched, the entire amount was gone in two years. Then Wickham had the audacity to approach Darcy again when the living fell vacant. That is the true origin of his tale—Darcy was in no obligation to give him the living at all, and certainly not after he had already compensated Wickham for it.”
Miss Bennet shook her head. “That is a horrendous tale, Colonel Fitzwilliam. I had no notion that such a man as he was among us.”
“Again, the truth is worse.”
Fitzwilliam had not intended to share the final detail aboutWickham’s lies, but he sensed Miss Bennet was a woman he could trust. The need to ensure she understood the truth about Wickham was such that he proceeded, not allowing his conscience to prevent him from making a full account.
“I would ask for your secrecy, Miss Bennet, for what I am about to relate would be damaging if it were ever revealed. Last summer, Wickham tried to seduce my cousin, Darcy’s sister.”
Her gasp did not surprise Fitzwilliam, given her caring nature, but the hardness in her eyes was unexpected. “After everything Mr. Darcy’s father did for him, Mr. Wickham still betrayed them?”
“He did. The details are not relevant. Suffice to say that Georgiana was away from her brother at the seaside when Wickham went there by design and attempted to induce her to elope. Darcy’s timely intervention saved her from a life of misery, but she has not been the same since.”
“What wickedness!” said Miss Bennet, keeping her voice low though her outrage was high. “Mr. Wickham deserves to be publicly disgraced.”
“For this and many other sins, I agree,” replied Fitzwilliam. “The danger to the community is twofold, Miss Bennet. Wickham leaves a trail of debts wherever he goes—should he do so in Meryton, your merchants will suffer. The greater danger is the ruined lives he leaves behind. There are at least two natural children in Derbyshire that Darcy supports, children conceived when Wickham imposed himself on the mothers. Thompson, a footman in his employ, carries a grudge, for Wickham tried to seduce his fiancée. As Thompson is a hand taller than I am and a burly man besides, Wickham is terrified of him.”
“Then what should we do?” asked Miss Bennet, the fire of determination burning in her eyes. “Lizzy is not a woman to allow such a man as he to take liberties, but my youngest sisters are yet inexperienced.”
“Aye, they are in danger.” Fitzwilliam fixed his gaze on her. “Do you trust me, Miss Bennet?”
Eyes softening, Miss Bennet nodded. “Implicitly.”
