“But Mr Wickham was not denied,” Georgiana said indignantly. “You said you compensated him for the living at Kympton.”
“And so I did, but he asked for much more than just the living.”
“I see.” She furrowed her brow in thought. Darcy considered it best to change the subject and was on the verge of requesting that she play for him when she asked a most provoking question. “And you denied him more because it wasnothis due?”
“Yes, I did!”
Georgiana jumped slightly, her eyes opened wide.
He took a deep breath and continued in a more controlled manner. “Certainly, he asked for more than he had a right to expect. Nevertheless, I might have helped him, had his need been genuine or his intentions respectable.” She continued to frown, and he felt compelled to add, “Georgiana, there are things about Mr Wickham I would not have you know. Suffice to say, it would have been imprudent to provide further funds to support his habits—and downright reckless to award him a living in the church.”
“Yet he believed himself wronged. I wonder whether it was not what he was denied that made him resent us so, but why he was denied it.”
Darcy said nothing, in no humour to reflect upon Wickham’s pretensions to neglect.
“You refused him on moral grounds,” his sister continued, “but, perhaps he did not comprehend that. Of course, I fully understand now why he wanted me to elope, but the reason he gave me at the time was that you would never agree to our alliance because you did not respect his situation. He often mentioned your pride. Perhaps he believed you denied him succour because you did not consider him worthy of it.”
It was apparent she did not mean to pain him, yet she could nothave chosen to philosophise on a subject more likely to do so. Darcy’s thoughts were flung back to the night he danced with Elizabeth at Netherfield, when she had pointedly enquired whether he ever allowed himself to be blinded by prejudice. He had replied that he hoped not but, at present, he knew not whether he could truthfully deny that pride had any bearing on his dealings with Wickham. It made him slightly nauseous to think the cur might be justified in his resentment.
“I beg your pardon!”
He looked up to discover his sister regarding him anxiously.
“I did not mean to sound as thoughIthought you had treated Mr Wickham unjustly—only that, perhaps, his believing it is what led to him forming such a violent resentment. You would never think less of a person merely because of his or her descent, you are too good!”
A tight knot formed in Darcy’s stomach at the recollection of that part of his proposal in which he asked Elizabeth whether she expected him to rejoice in the inferiority of her connexions. “Do not distress yourself,” he replied stiffly, “I took your meaning. What have you been reading to put you in such a penetrating frame of mind?” Thus, he steadfastly steered the conversation to more general matters and, very soon after, to a close. With a promise to take her to Gunter’s for ices on Monday, he left his sister’s establishment and rode home at a pace, eager to outdistance such uncomfortable introspections.
It was a vain endeavour; the further he rode, the heavier grew his heart. He once said to Elizabeth that he hoped his faults were not of understanding, not truly believing he had any at the time. It was with growing anguish that he was coming to realise just how well she had understood them, and with even greater shame that he was only now beginning to comprehend them himself.
Saturday 16 May 1812, Hertfordshire
Though happy for the opportunity to recommence his courtship, Bingley disliked the hours he was obliged to spend alone at Netherfield each day. In a bid to pass the time more agreeably, he invited his neighbours to fish with him in his pond. Barring the crayfish that made a hole in Mr Goulding’s net and the chill Mr Philips contracted after falling in the water, however, not a thing was caught—and thewhole thing was rained off after but half an hour by a sudden rainstorm. The gentlemen ended ensconced in the comfortable parlour of the Millstream Inn while they waited for the rain to cease. Spirits were high, conversation flowed as freely as the ale, and the fishing party was unanimously declared a raging success.
“It is capital to see you back in our little corner of the world again, Bingley,” Sir William said to him over his second or third flagon. “We had worried you meant to quit the neighbourhood entirely.”
“As did I, at one point,” Bingley replied. “Though Iamfond of the country, there was some uncertainty as to whether the country returned my regard. Fear not, though. Darcy set it all to rights for me, and here I am!”
“Darcy, you say?”
“The one and only. Assured me the country was completely in love with me.”
“Capital, capital! I daresay he is correct. Will he be joining you at Netherfield?”
“He said not, but he had praise enough for Meryton when he was convincing me to return, so he may yet decide to visit.”
“He is very good,” replied Sir William, preening as though any praise for the neighbourhood must necessarily encompass him.
“He sends his regards, of course.” Bingley placed his forearm on the table and leant forward, adding in a hushed tone, “He did ask me to convey his regrets for his reserve during his last visit, but I am sure you agree with me it is not necessary.”
“I do indeed! His manners were faultless—here and in Kent. Capital fellow! Whatever gave him the impression we found him otherwise?”
“I did,” Bingley slurred, grinning. “It was quite unintentional. I was teasing him for squabbling with Miss Elizabeth Bennet. He took it altogether the wrong way.”
Sir William nodded sagely. “He must not blame himself for that. Miss Elizabeth can be rather pert. A good girl, though.”
“No need to convince me of that—or Darcy. He assured me he thinks she is perfectly lovely.”
“Did he indeed?”
