Page 58 of Bitterness of Spirit

“I see. Well, I heard the same. I also heard that George Darcy paid for your school, hoping for you to become an educated man and make yourself a good and safe living.”

“He did! As I told you earlier,” Wickham admitted.

“It is remarkable and as generous as I would expect from him. I am sure you worked hard to repay his kindness and to make him proud of your accomplishments. And may I ask, what have you studied so far? What profession did you choose? I see you are in the militia now.”

Wickham suddenly paled and put his glass down. His smile faded slightly.

“Well, I…”

“Mr. Wickham is in the militia because Mr. Darcy denied him the living that was left by his godfather! He was cruel and threw poor Wickham into poverty!” Lydia cried as Jane tried to temper her.

“Yes, we all know that story,” Mr. Wilson said calmly. He then walked closer to Wickham and inquired further. “So, you wished to dedicate yourself to the church, but you could not because of Darcy’s cruelty? And you were forced to join the militia because Darcy refused to give you what was rightfully yours without any compensation?”

Wickham’s handsome features changed into a grimace. “Well, I…the thing is…”

“What is the thing, Mr. Wickham? I am curious to have more details since I have heard information that contradicts my initial knowledge of your past affairs with Darcy. You surely understand my confusion and my desire to discover the truth.”

Wickham attempted to defend himself. “It is not…I cannot provide more details, but the situation was more complicated. I do not wish to discuss such private matters publicly.”

But Wilson’s curiosity was not pacified despite the obvious awkwardness of the conversation. “Surely, we already discussed this matter publicly when I was in Meryton. And I noticed everyone there was aware of your distressing situation and of Darcy’s dishonourable behaviour. So I am a little surprised by your reluctance to explain it further.”

Jane and Mrs. Gardiner looked distressed, and the youngest Bennet sisters listened with puzzlement while their uncle and father enjoyed their drinks.

Elizabeth felt torn between the satisfaction of seeing Wickham censured and the concern of hearing Darcy’s secrets betrayed.

Mr. Wilson, however, would have his own way. “So, what is the truth, Mr. Wickham? By the way, Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam will join us for dinner tonight, and I intend to ask him as well. He must be held responsible if his behaviour was as faulty as you say.”

Wickham turned so white that Elizabeth feared he would faint. He did not, but his hands trembled when he attempted to sip his wine.

“You are welcome to join us for dinner,” Mr. Wilson continued in earnest. “Bingley will be here too, probably with his sisters. The more, the merrier.”

“Oh, yes, you must come, Mr. Wickham! Say you will,” Lydia begged.

“I thank you, but I must refuse. I have other fixed engagements. In fact, I should leave immediately; I am already late. It was a pleasure seeing you all,” Wickham uttered in such haste that his words were barely audible. He rose in a hurry, bowed to the party, and nearly ran outside.

Lydia called to him, surprised and upset by his sudden departure, but he did not slow his steps.

“What happened? Why did he leave so soon?” Lydia inquired, tearful from displeasure. “I am sure he was upset because you mentioned Mr. Darcy. That man always upsets everybody!”

Her statement disturbed Elizabeth although she would have thought the same until recently. Lydia’s reaction was close to what her own would have been only months ago. But her sister at least had the excuse of her tender age. How could she—at almost one and twenty—have been so silly and gullible?

“Lydia, dear! Be careful with your language, please! Mr. Darcy will be here tonight as Mr. Wilson’s guest. We must be careful with our words and our manners!” Mrs. Gardiner scolded her. “As for Mr. Wickham, he left because he chose to. I am afraid he was unwilling to answer the questions and preferred to run from the truth.”

“Well, I am sure another opportunity to debate this subject will arise soon, although I am certain neither of us has any remaining doubts on the matter.” Mr. Wilson concluded. “By the way, I am curious: What is Wickham doing alone in London? Has he been excused from his regiment? Or does he wish to change his profession—again?”

“Well, he does look like a hardworking man,” Mr. Bennet replied with mock seriousness. “It would have been an interesting evening if he dined with us. I wonder whether we shall see him again soon.”

“Papa, what do you mean? Why would we not see him again? Mr. Wickham is the most handsome and pleasant man I have ever met! I cannot bear not to see him again!” Lydia cried in great distress.

Kitty supported her sister. “That is true! I cannot bear it either.”

Mr. Bennet silenced his younger daughter severely. “My dear Lydia, you are only fifteen years old. How many men have you met so far? Perhaps too many; perhaps you should stay in the house until you turn eighteen. And Kitty will keep you company.”

“Papa!” both girls cried with anger and disbelief. “You cannot be serious! We came to Town for the Season!”

“You came to Town because I brought you! If you read at least two hours a day, I might agree to allow you outside for the same amount of time. And now, you will excuse me; I shall l retire to the library.”

“That is an excellent idea; we shall join you.” Mr. Wilson and Mr. Gardiner followed him while the girls continued to cry after their father.