Page 56 of Bitterness of Spirit

Elizabeth’s head ached. Surely, he would not dare to call on her here. Or would he? He had no idea that she had more complete knowledge of his past, and he might believe she was still partial to him. So why would he not feel himself welcome? She had been silly enough to believe his mischievous lies; he had every reason to think she was the same simpleton she had been when they last met.

She became restless, fearing Wickham might call at a time when Darcy would be there too. What might he think of such a happenstance? Surely, he would presume she gave no credit to his letter and still favoured Wickham over him.

“I hope Mr. Wickham sends a note before he calls,” she said.

“Oh, I do not think he will. Papa told him to come anytime.”

Elizabeth’s distress grew. “Papa said that? He should not have done so before asking Mr. Wilson’s permission.”

“Permission? Why would he do that, Lizzy? Wickham is our friend! And Mr. Wilson met him at Longbourn, so they are not strangers to each other! Lizzy, you are behaving quite strangely. What has happened to you? May I ring for food now? How many servants are in this house?”

Several minutes later, two maids brought trays with various kinds of meat, cheese, and fruits that immediately captured Lydia’s attention. Elizabeth escaped to the library, eager to speak to her father.

Inside were only three gentlemen; Sir William had retired to rest in his chamber with a view of Hyde Park. Her distress was quickly noticed and addressed.

“Lizzy dear, what has happened? Come and sit by my side,” Mr. Bennet invited her. “Look—what books I have found. This library is a gem.”

“I know it is, Papa. Nothing happened. In fact, it does— There is—” She glanced at her uncle and Mr. Wilson. “Papa, Lydia told me Mr. Wickham came to Town with you. And that you invited him to call on us without even asking Mr. Wilson’s opinion.”

“Yes, he did. And yes, I did. I think he only tried to assure himself a free ride to Town. And I accepted him as I thought you might enjoy his company. I know he is a favourite of yours. You should be grateful to me as the fellow was rather boring,” he answered in jest.

Elizabeth flushed with embarrassment. “Mr. Wickham was pleasant company for a while, but sadly, I found that he is not as honest as we were led to believe, and most of the stories he told us were untrue. Therefore, I do not think we should encourage his presence in our family.”

“Really? Well, well, I am glad to hear that my daughter is not as silly as I feared. It is encouraging that you finally opened your eyes. I mean—come, Lizzy, it was so obvious that he lied. No man of honour would tell such private stories to everyone if they were true. You would have caught on immediately if he were less handsome. Women are as easily deceived by a pretty face as we are. That is rather disconcerting.”

Elizabeth did not join in her father’s mockery, not even when his other two companions laughed along with him.

“Papa, I accept your censure, but my point is—”

“Your concern is appreciated, Elizabeth, but nobody who lives in this house needs my approval to invite someone to call,” Mr. Wilson interjected. “Besides, having Wickham visit might be rather diverting.”

Elizabeth grew even more annoyed but struggled to stay calm.

Mr. Bennet continued his jest. “Wilson told me Darcy and Bingley will come to dinner tomorrow night. Now that is a circumstance I did not see coming. I was certain we would not see those two anytime soon, if ever. Let’s just not tell your mother yet, or she will come to Town immediately.”

“Papa, if Mr. Wickham happens to come tomorrow afternoon when the other gentlemen are here, this might turn into a most unpleasant encounter. Jane certainly does not need more distress.”

“You worry too much, Elizabeth,” Mr. Wilson uttered. “Men are used to unpleasant encounters. And this one might be entertaining. I assure you there is no need to worry.”

She knew she had ample cause to worry, but she found no strength to continue the fight any longer. So she apologized and left, at the edge of torment. Precisely when things seemed to improve, something was meant to ruin them again—for Jane, of course. She had no expectations regarding Mr. Darcy, and she surely did not expect any improvement in their acquaintance—none at all.

***

As Sir William was to return to Hertfordshire the following day, Mr. Wilson could not allow him to leave without any amusement. So, late in the afternoon, he invited all three of his male guests to his club.

“I bought my membership first thing when I returned to Town. I confess I was extremely lucky to have the Duke of York’s recommendation; otherwise, I probably would not have been accepted, considering my modest origins. However, once they allowed me in, money compensated for anything of that kind that I lacked.”

“I was introduced at St. James’s Palace some time ago, but I confess I never attended this club,” Sir William said with a failed attempt at composure. The others said nothing.

As soon as they entered, Mr. Wilson’s popularity was shown by the staff’s diligence. They were offered a comfortable table by the window. The room was not crowded as it was rather late. To their surprise, however, at a near table, a common acquaintance was enjoying a glass of wine and looking at them with surprise.

Darcy rose from his chair and hurried towards them. “Mr. Bennet! Sir William! I am pleased to see you. How are you?” His friendly openness left both named gentlemen staring in disbelief.

“I am fine, thank you,” Mr. Bennet eventually replied. “And you?”

“Quite well. Would you do me the honour of allowing me to introduce my cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam?”

“Colonel Fitzwilliam… Is he Lord Matlock’s son?” Mr. Wilson intervened.