“As a child, ma’am, when Darcy also contracted the disease—we were at Eton, and forced to remain in our dormitory for well nigh a month. Tell me, is Mrs. Younge well?”
There was something about his manner that alerted Elizabeth to a comprehension she had hitherto not held before. She had assumed that Wickham was visiting Georgiana, youngas she was. Yet, he had not enquired about her; clearly, he had greater concern for the well-being of Georgiana’s companion, Mrs. Younge.
“She is well, and assists greatly in caring for Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh. It was they who carried the infection into the house.”
“Mrs. Younge, you said she is well?” he repeated. Then, seeing Elizabeth’s raised eyebrows, asked—“and, of course, Miss Darcy?”
“Both are quite well, and of great assistance in the house. Mr. Wickham, perhaps we should take a turn about the garden.”
He offered her his arm, which she politely refused, holding her hands clasped behind her back as they exited the room, turning along the gravelled path which led to the rose garden, now glorious in the fullness of summer.
After some hesitation, Elizabeth began the conversation. “I fear we may have got off to a poor beginning, and I wish to understand a little more of your character. I admit to some apprehension at your being here. Oh, not just for breaking the quarantine, which is dismaying enough. But I have several other concerns. Miss Darcy is a good friend, and I have some duty towards her. Indeed, we met at the home of her aunt, Lady Matlock, and it behoves me to ensure that nothing occurs that could tarnish her reputation, and, by association, mine.”
“Yes, Georgiana said as much. No, it is my place to apologise, for I had not thought to importune you and Miss Darcy. While my apology is long overdue, it is not the primary purpose for which we should speak.”
Elizabeth nodded, her manner suggesting that Wickham should continue. “As you are no doubt aware, I am the son of a very respectable man, my late father, Mr. Wickham, who was for many years the head steward responsible for all of thePemberley estate—as Mr. Baxter is now. His excellent conduct in the discharge of his trust inclined the late Mr. Darcy to be of service to him, and upon me, his godson, his kindness was liberally bestowed.”
The letter from Child’s agent had said the same.
“Mr. Darcy supported me at school, and afterwards at Cambridge. It was most important assistance, because my own father was always poor from the extravagance of my mother, and was unable to give me a gentleman’s education.” Wickham reddened, looking away across the colourful blooms.
“My condolences, sir, on your father’s passing. Does your mother reside in the neighbourhood?”
“She has moved to Bakewell, to live with her family’s relatives. I visit whenever I can, for it is an easy distance from Lambton. It is unfortunate, but I am not welcomed by the family, who had intended that I marry into it—that I wed my cousin. But I have not the means to make an offer. Perhaps I get ahead of myself—the cousin is Mrs. Younge.”
It all made sense, thought Elizabeth, that Mr. Wickham should have such an easy familiarity with the lady. Perhaps that is the reason why both she and Georgiana had not thought it improper for Mr. Wickham to stay overnight at Pemberley, he being a relative of Miss Darcy’s companion.
“Do you think, Mr. Wickham, that it is proper to stay in a house where your cousin is companion to a young lady, not yet come out in society? And that cousin, a lady you were intended for?” Elizabeth’s tone was cordial, yet she could not hide the sharpness behind her words.
Wickham coloured once again. “I… we had not thought of it. You are correct, ma’am, it was very poorly done.”
“Pray continue, sir. I do not wish you grovelling amongst the rose beds. I have had my fill of grovelling from Mr. Collins, my cousin from Kent. But I distract you—“
“I admit my time at school, and also at Cambridge, was not to my advantage. At school, I fell in with a bad lot, for none of my crowd were in the least scholarly, unlike Darcy, who found the study of Latin and Greek much to his liking, as well as fencing and rowing. For myself, such study was wasted, as my mind is not suited to the classics.”
“Non scholae sed vitae discimus—we do not learn for school, but for life,” murmured Elizabeth, who had found the study of Latin in her father’s library enjoyable—she was not required to endure the endless memorisation and recitation required of students at school. A privilege—so few—of being a woman; her father had always encouraged her to read without the rigid discipline of the classroom.
“Cambridge was a farce,” continued Wickham, “and after but two terms, with no aptitude for mathematics or philosophy, I idled away my time. Darcy, who was an excellent student, naturally thought my life was one of dissipation, for he saw me mostly at leisure. I must admit, to my shame, that I was very comfortable with the easy Cyprian commerce to be found in the town.”
Wickham paused. “My apologies, ma’am.”
“I am aware, Mr. Wickham, of the behaviour of young men. I cannot condone it, but neither do I pretend affront. Pray continue.”
“As I did not attend the lectures, I found myself free to partake of my own interests. Cambridgeshire, being adjacent to Norfolk, led me naturally to enquire into the Norfolk four-course rotation in agriculture, which had yet to be implemented in Derbyshire.”
“I would never have thought! You are a farmer, Mr. Wickham?” exclaimed Elizabeth, truly surprised by the turn of the conversation.
“Indeed not, for I have no land. Though I have been able to study under Arthur Young, the famed agriculturist, for a little time.”
“But you spoke of being intended for the church, that Mr. Darcy had bequeathed you a valuable living? You speak in contradictions, sir.”
“That was my folly. For though I accrued ten terms at Cambridge, sufficient to gain my degree, I failed my ordination examination by the bishop. You have guessed it—my knowledge of Latin and the scriptures was completely inadequate; if you will, barely existent. Though we did have an excellent discussion about whether clover should be sown with barley in the rotation.”
They came to the end of the path, and turned back towards the house. Unconsciously, Elizabeth took Mr. Wickham’s arm. “You received a legacy from Mr. Darcy’s will, did you not?”
“Indeed, it was one thousand pounds, a very generous amount. Further, the will stated that the living at Kympton might be mine. I had not taken orders, but could have been awarded the living, though not leading services. Darcy would not countenance my becoming rector, for the tithe income was barely sufficient to keep a man, and most of it would have gone towards maintaining the church which was in poor repair—indeed, it was likely that the responsibility would leave me out of pocket. However, the will was exceedingly generous, for in lieu of the living, I was granted a three-thousand-pound portfolio of stocks and shares. It was well known that old Mr. Darcy invested in such. I assume he thought their value would grow over time, and the dividends provide me a steady income, similar to that of a clergyman.”
“Three thousand pounds! A very respectable sum.”
