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Chapter Text

Lady Lucas was an amiable hostess and loved large parties but she had to admit that keeping everyone entertained at a varied gathering was sometimes a challenge. Her husband was happy if there was a big crowd and a lot of chatter. It was sometimes too much for Maria who was still shy and unsure of herself but she had to learn to move in society sometime, and Lady Lucas thought including a couple of her good friends in the guest list would help. Charlotte – well, if she was not happy she would at least attempt to look like she was. The Lucas heir and his younger brothers would not be attending this time, being away at school.

Of the neighbours, Mrs. Goulding was not often happy but she would be occupied as long as there was someone to listen to her account of her pains and aches. Mr. Goulding would be happier if that someone was not him. Keeping Mrs. Long content required treading the fine line between serving too little and too much wine. Mrs. Bennet was cheerful if her daughters were admired more than any other young ladies but Lady Lucas could hardly ever produce enough single gentlemen to admire them all as well as Mrs. Bennet felt they deserved. Mr. Bennet’s happiness was sometimes hard to gauge since he employed so much sarcasm, but he often failed to attend at all, so whenever he came and stayed until the end of the evening, Lady Lucas counted it as success.

The Netherfield party was less well known but Lady Lucas thought that Mr. Hurst’s happiness mostly depended on the food and beverages. She had observed that Mrs. Hurst looked slightly more engaged in the festivities if there were card games, so it might be best to be prepared. Miss Bingley would be unlikely to be completely content unless there were several dukes and earls in the guest list. Mr. Darcy usually looked like he would be happier anywhere else, but it was impossible to invite Mr. Bingley and leave his friend out. Mr. Bingley posed the least number of problems as he always seemed happy, no matter what.

Of the Bennet sisters, Miss Bennet was a graceful character, always willing to accommodate everyone else’s wishes, but she was never the life and soul of the party. Sir William sometimes succeeded in coaxing her into some animation but Lady Lucas had never been able to draw her out of her reserve. But Mr. Bingley generally gravitated towards the eldest Bennet daughter so Lady Lucas thought those two could be relied upon to entertain each other.

Miss Elizabeth was a more entertaining dinner guest as she was able to laugh at anything and talk about anything with anyone, and most of the time she could be depended on for a song or two if the conversation was lagging. Sometimes Lady Lucas thought she had a vague air of discontent about her, as if something bothered her but most of the time she was not sure what exactly. Lately it might have been Mr. Darcy’s presence. After the latest assembly in Meryton, it was common knowledge that Mr. Darcy had insulted Miss Elizabeth somehow. But in their subsequent meetings they had managed to ignore each other civilly enough, or so it seemed, and Lady Lucas hoped they could handle one more dinner party without injuring each other.

Miss Mary was vastly easier to read than her next eldest sister: she disapproved of dancing. She disapproved of card games. She disapproved of wine, cheerful conversation, and all manner of frivolity. Her idea of a good time was to read sermons and play mournful hymns and she would only be happy if nobody else was.

As for the youngest Bennet girls, they wanted to dance and flirt and be the centre of the attention. Usually they succeeded in the last objective, as they tended to be quite loud.

“It is too bad that none of the officers could come!” said Miss Lydia.

“If they were here we might dance a reel,” said Miss Kitty.

“A reel!” said Maria breathlessly.

“Oh, to be young again, and dance without hurting…” said Mrs. Goulding mournfully.

“We did invite a few of the officers but they had other occupations tonight,” explained Lady Lucas.

“Mr. Carter and Sanderson are busy at the regiment,” said Charlotte. “Mr. Denny is in London. And Mr. Wickham said he had made other plans.”

“He might have come if the company was more congenial,” said Miss Lydia.

“Whatever could you mean,” said Sir William. “We are quite a cheerful lot tonight, are we not.”

“Yes but perhaps he thought that there are some people who are better avoided,” said Miss Lydia.

“Hush, Lydia,” said Miss Elizabeth.

But Miss Lydia could not be hushed. “It is very unfair that we are deprived of good company,” she said. She had been vaguely grumbling about her discontent in unnamed people’s character and behaviour all evening, throwing plenty of dark looks at Mr. Darcy.

“It would have been wonderful to have officers here,” said Mrs. Bennet. “They are such wonderful dancers.”

“Perhaps Mr. Bingley, Mr. Hurst and Mr. Darcy will agree to a whirl around the room,” said Sir William. Lady Lucas hoped they would not because rearranging the furniture would be a great deal of trouble.

“I am sure they would rather play cards,” said Mrs. Hurst, and Lady Lucas nodded fiercely.

“It would surely be much more rational if conversation instead of dancing were made the order of the day,” said Miss Bingley.

“Well, it depends on the conversationalists,” said Mr. Bennet. “Some say a whole lot of nonsense.”

“Capital, capital,” said Sir William.

“The notions are not mutually exclusive,” said Mr. Bingley. “People could easily dance and converse at the same time. Apart from Darcy, that is.”

“So they do,” said Mr. Bennet. “And of perfectly rational topics. This room is very crowded but private balls are so much more pleasant! Yes, I am sure the musicians are doing their absolute best. You look radiant in that shade of green, my dear, and how do you like Rousseau’s notion of legitimate social order?”

“If that is how he flirts it is a mystery how Papa ever found anyone to marry.”

“Oh, Lydia, I’ll have you know that your Papa was a handsome rascal in his youth,” said Mrs. Bennet.

“That is right,” said Mrs. Long. “Your mother was the envy of the neighbourhood to catch the eye of the handsomest young man in town.”

Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia looked at their father with a degree of scepticism.

“How could such beautiful sisters have anything but handsome parents,” said Mr. Bingley gallantly, and Mrs. Bennet tittered.

“In fact, in his youth Mr. Bennet looked a bit like that handsome Mr. Wickham,” Mrs. Goulding corroborated.

“Mr. Wickham! What a nice young man that is,” Mrs. Long said. “All that hair, and so polite! One of you girls should snap him up.”

“He probably cannot afford to marry, I dare say he is as poor as a church mouse,” said Mr. Goulding.

“Oh, not a church mouse, surely, just a regular mouse,” said Mr. Darcy who had been very quiet until then. “Church mouses attend services so frequently that it is not an apt comparison for our friend Mr. Wickham.”

“He would be a clergyman if it wasn’t for you!” exclaimed Miss Lydia who could not take such glib dismissal of her friend’s grievances lightly.

“Would he?” said Mr. Darcy. “This comes as news to me.”

“As if you did not know! It was you, and only you who reduced him to his current state of poverty!”

“Was I?”

“To his great misfortune.”

“Oh, yes, his misfortunes have been great indeed. But all of his own making.”

“His own making! When it was you who cheated on your childhood friend! It was you who ignored your father’s will. It was you who refused to give him a valuable living he was promised,” said Miss Lydia. “How was any of that his own making?”

“I thought he told me that in confidence,” said Miss Elizabeth.

Mr. Darcy looked at her thoughtfully and nodded.

“Yes, that would be his usual modus operandi. He likes to make people feel important and valued, and what better way to convince them of the intimacy than to make them think they share a secret that was trusted to no one else.”

“He told us too, when he visited last Thursday,” said Mrs. Goulding. “He said he would have loved making sermons above all else. He would have loved to pray for the parishioners who are suffering pain and distress.”

“If he had the living he could afford to marry,” said Miss Lydia, returning to her most salient complaint. “But you deprived him of his rights and disregarded your father’s last will and testament. How can you continue to call yourself a gentleman?”

“I am sure there is some misunderstanding,” said Miss Bennet, ever the peacemaker.

“Lydia,” said Mr. Bennet. “You go too far, you need to apologize.”

“No, no,” said Mr. Darcy, with the air of someone who had been goaded to the limit. “It is a reasonable question, and I shall attempt to respond. Mr. Wickham’s complaints deserve a fair hearing.”

“Capital! Capital!” said Sir William.

“After all, Mr. Wickham may be entitled to some compensation for the grievous injustice he has suffered,” Mr. Darcy said. “Should the allegations prove to be true.”

Lady Lucas felt apprehensive as there seemed to be no way for this to end well. All she asked was one dinner party that ended with everyone happy. But no, there would be accusations. There would be arguments. There would be a dead body.

Just one, if she was lucky.

“Now, Miss Lydia, have you, by any chance, read my father’s will?” asked Mr. Darcy.

“Of course not,” said Miss Lydia scornfully. “Why would I?”

“No reason, I am sure.” Mr. Darcy paused for a long moment. There was a lot of fidgeting in the room, as people waited for him to continue. “But as it happens, I have.”

“How jolly for you,” said Miss Lydia in a petulant tone.

“It was not precisely a jolly occasion, but it was certainly instructive.”

“Capital, capital,” said Sir William.

“Not that it was in any way unusual,” Mr. Darcy added. “I often find that reading documents is quite helpful. In ascertaining their contents, that is.”

“As a conscientious estate owner, Mr. Darcy has had occasion to deal with a vast number of letters, bills and petitions,” Miss Bingley explained. “So he has had a lot of experience reading documents.”

“Thank you, Miss Bingley,” said Mr. Darcy. “It is useful to have an impartial witness confirming that I am, in fact, literate.”

Miss Elizabeth attempted to valiantly suppress her laughter. Mr. Bennet did not even try. Even Charlotte seemed amused. Sir William and poor Maria looked like they were not at all certain what was going on.

“Why are we talking about Mr. Darcy senior’s will?” asked Mr. Hurst. “It can be of no importance to anyone here other than Darcy himself.”

“That was what I thought too, and between you and me, we might be excused for taking it as a reasonable assumption,” said Mr. Darcy. “But it seems like Miss Lydia has some interest in the matter, and I hope to accommodate her request for information. Pardon me for boring the company with my private affairs.”

“We are all ears, I am sure,” said Mr. Bennet. “For what do we live for but to make a fuss of legal documents that we have never seen?”

“Oh dear!” Mr. Darcy appeared struck. “You are right, this is an untenable situation. I shall write to my solicitors and ask them to provide a copy for you. And I am sure it will be no trouble for them to have several copies made, for all of Meryton, so that everyone concerned may acquaint themselves with the details.”

“Mr. Wickham has already told us about the details,” said Miss Lydia angrily.

“Yes but it has been some time since Mr. Wickham has had an opportunity to read the original so it may behoove us to go straight to the source so we can ascertain he did not forget anything pertinent.”

“They do say that recollections may vary,” said Charlotte.

“Exactly, Miss Lucas,” Mr. Darcy agreed. “In a matter such as this, I think it is important to get a complete picture of all the facts.”

“To think that I almost missed this party,” Mr. Bennet remarked inconsequentially.

“Now, Miss Lydia, Mr. Wickham may have told you that he was my father’s godson.”

“Yes.”

“He did,” said Maria.

“DId he also tell you that I was jealous because my father loved him like a son?”

“He told us that you could not stand it that he was so close to your father, and your bitterness about this caused you to disregard your father’s last wishes,” said Mrs. Goulding.

“Amazing,” said Mr. Darcy. “I wonder how I knew that he would say that.”

“It is conceivable, perhaps, that he has told lies to that effect before this,” suggested Mr. Bennet.

“Oh, I hope not!” Mr. Darcy scoffed. “Such a nice young man, serving the country and the crown! So handsome! So talkative and friendly! With such an appearance of goodness in his air!”

Miss Elizabeth fanned herself and seemed much struck by this reasoning.

“He is also a nimble dancer,” Charlotte added helpfully.

“Exactly, Miss Lucas. Surely it is quite inconceivable that such a fine dancer could be a practiced liar.”

“Mr. Wickham warned us that you would try to cast aspersions on his name,” Miss Lydia said darkly.

“Did he also tell you that he loved my father so well he could not bear to denigrate the reputation of the Darcy family, right before denigrating the reputation of the Darcy family?”

“Oh,” said Maria.

“Possibly,” said Mrs. Goulding.

“Not in those exact words,” said Miss Elizabeth.

“He said he owed a great deal of respect to his godfather and could not bear to reveal your villainy to the world,” said Miss Lydia.

“And how exactly do you know of my villainy?” asked Mr. Darcy.

“Because Mr. Wickham said you cheated him out of his inheritance.”

“Exactly,” said Mr. Darcy.

“It is fortunate that Mr. Wickham is so conscientious and avoids malicious gossip,” Charlotte said. “Had he wanted to blacken Mr. Darcy’s name, who knows which stories he would tell people about him.”

“Oh,” said Miss Elizabeth.

“It is not malicious gossip if it is true,” said Miss Lydia.

“That is right, Miss Lydia, I agree with you completely,” said Mr. Darcy. “The truth must be some justification.”

Miss Mary looked like she wished to write that down.

“Now, Miss Lydia, if you read my father’s will you would see it said that he had sponsored George Wickham’s education in the hopes that he might find gentlemanly employment, and it was his particular wish that Wickham would be considered for the living in Kympton, as soon as it became vacant, should he take orders.”

“That is correct,” said Miss Lydia. “Mr. Wickham told me himself.”

“Did he also tell you that after my father’s death he asked to be excused from the clerical duty and requested compensation for the loss of the living in a monetary form instead?”

“No, he did not happen to say that,” said Miss Elizabeth.

“I am sure it merely slipped his mind,” said Mr. Darcy. “Anyone might forget receiving such a paltry sum as three thousand pounds.”

“Three thousand pounds!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet. “Why, that is a small fortune!”

“It seemed desirable to him at the time,” said Mr. Darcy, “so he signed a document to give up all his claims to the living. The living was occupied by a relatively young man at the time, and a vacancy was not expected shortly, so Mr. Wickham preferred to have funds available to him instantly.”

“But surely he would not be destitute if he received three thousand pounds,” said Mr. Goulding.

“A single man could live very well on three thousand pounds,” said Charlotte.

“Four thousand,” said Mr. Darcy. “There was also a bequest of a thousand pounds in my father’s will. Again, my solicitors will be able to provide copies of the receipts.”

“I am sure it is not necessary,” said Miss Elizabeth faintly.

“I hate to disagree with you, Miss Elizabeth, but I think I shall request the documents regardless. In a matter such as this, i would vastly prefer to work with proof and evidence, rather than deal in vague recollections and insinuations. Else one risks tarnishing reputations with distortions and untruth, and none of us here would wish for that to happen, I am sure.”

“Very wise, Mr. Darcy,” said Mr. Bennet.

“Mr. Darcy is such a rational man, and we might all learn some of his wisdom.”

“Thank you, Miss Bingley. I would certainly advise for the merchants in Meryton to take my example and very carefully document all the debt that Mr. Wickham might find himself in.”

“Is he frequently in debt?” asked Sir William.

“Unfortunately I am not aware of the extent of his debts everywhere that he has been,” said Mr. Darcy apologetically. “But it would be a prudent assumption, based on some debts of his that I paid in Cambridge, Lambton and Ramsgate.”

“You paid his debts!” exclaimed Miss Kitty.

“My solicitors could provide you with copies of the receipts and the exact sum,” said Mr. Darcy helpfully.

“You could see him at Marshalsea,” said Mr. Goulding.

“That is assuming that I would wish to see him, anywhere at all,” said Mr. Darcy.

“He would not be in debt if he was not poor because of you,” said Miss Lydia who was not willing to give up her defense of her latest beau. “He told me that the living became vacant and you refused to give it to him.”

“That is right, Miss Lydia,” said Mr. Darcy politely. “You are to be congratulated because you are one of the select few who have ever heard George Wickham state something that was true. The previous parson received a barony unexpectedly and resigned in order to tend to his inheritance. When Mr. Wickham heard this he contacted me in order to request to be considered for the living, and indeed, I refused.”

“How could you be so cruel to your childhood friend? It was your father’s will.”

“Miss Lydia, my father’s will was for George Wickham to receive the living should he take orders. Do you think he has taken orders? Is he working as a curate in the meantime?”

“You know very well that he is in the militia.”

“Which is to his credit, I am sure,” said Mr. Darcy airily. “In these troubled times, our country needs all the brave soldiers it can get, and the militia is a fine, honest occupation.”

“Which he is just starting his career in, at the age of nearly thirty,” said Charlotte.

“He was expecting to get the living,” Miss Lydia pointed out.

“Ah, yes,” Mr. Darcy said. “So you think that for all this time, he has been preparing himself for a career in the church.”

“He would make a great preacher, being such an eloquent speaker,” said Mrs. Bennet.

“Ah, yes, and the ability to speak is all that is required of a clergyman?” Mr. Darcy inquired. “It must be a nice, easy job, if you can get it.”

“Oh, botheration, I do not know,” said Mrs. Bennet. “I have no idea what they require.”

“I am not an expert either but I am sure my solicitors could help clarify this matter as well. They are Messrs. Shilton, Donovan and Gallagher, in Westminster, London. Mr. Gallagher, in particular, is well versed in the laws and rules governing the church, and a very efficient chap altogether. I am certain he would be happy to explain everything to us in detail. I shall write to him tomorrow and ask him to attend to us in Hertfordshire at his earliest convenience.”

“We do not give a fig about your solicitors!” said Miss Lydia.

“That is too bad, because they are a really excellent firm,” Mr. Darcy said. “I could give your father their direction, in case you ever need legal assistance, but I suppose your uncle Mr. Philips would be able to come to your aid in most instances. But should you ever wish to know about the ecclesiastical law, I can recommend Mr. Gallagher as the best source.”

“Why on earth would I wish to know about the ecclesiastical law?” Miss Lydia asked scornfully.

“I suppose a young lady like you might easily get away with being entirely ignorant of it,” allowed Mr. Darcy. “But should you be a young man looking for a living, you would need to have some idea at least.”

“I did not expect anyone to bring up the word ecclesiastical in conversation tonight,” said Mr.Hurst. “But now that it has happened it stands to reason that it was Darcy.”

“Mr. Darcy is always very well-spoken,” said Miss Bingley.

“In the process of saying something that will amaze the whole room,” said Miss Elizabeth.

“That is not my object, Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy, “although there are some I would happily astonish at times.”

There was a lull in the conversation which enabled Mrs. Hurst to interrupt the discussion concerning Mr. Darcy’s solicitors. “Are we going to play cards tonight, Lady Lucas?”

Lady Lucas was forced to attend to the card table, and soon afterwards, the Gouldings and the Hursts started a game. Mrs. Long sat near to assist and observe, and to sip from her cordial. Lady Lucas thought her voice sounded a little too slurred to discuss ecclesiastical law. Mr. Bingley used his first opportunity to compliment Miss Bennet for something or other, and Mrs. Bennet agreed with him enthusiastically.

But Miss Mary found the previous topic too fascinating to give up. “I would be very interested in hearing your solicitor explain the requirements for receiving a living. Clergymen have such an important duty, caring for the souls of their parishioners.”

“Quite right, Miss Mary. I was obliged to do some research into the matter when I had the living to bestow, and Mr. Gallagher explained some of it to me then. I hope I still remember enough to do the matter justice, for I would hate to mislead any of you in such an issue.”

“I am sure your recollection is near perfect. It always is.”

“Thank you, Miss Bingley,” said Mr. Darcy. “I deserve no such praise, therefore I encourage everyone to ask for the evidence.”

Miss Lydia snorted contemptuously.

“By any chance, did Mr. Wickham ever offer you any receipts or any sort of proof for any of his claims, Miss Lydia?”

“There can be no receipts for he received nothing.”

“Nothing except four thousand pounds,” Mr. Darcy reminded helpfully. “Which I have the receipts for.”

“But you did not give him his living.” Miss Lydia was still pouting which made her look much younger than her years.

“That is right, Miss Lydia. And do you know why?”

“Because of your jealousy and disdain.”

“Ah, yes. It stands to reason that I would be jealous of him. After all, he owns half of Derbyshire and I am just a handsome devil with nothing to call my own.”

“See right there, Mr. Darcy, you are practically dripping with disdain.”

Lady Lucas thought Miss Lydia was correct about that. But it seemed increasingly likely that Mr. Darcy had his reasons.

“Now, Mr. Gallagher explained to me some of the things I should consider when choosing a parson – I do hope that I can recall all of this correctly. I could write to my sister and ask her to locate Mr. Gallagher’s letter amongst my papers, so we could all take a look.”

“I have no interest in reading your letters,” Miss Lydia said.

“Oh, how unfortunate, because it was really informative, with an abundance of pertinent detail. Among other things, if you can believe it, Mr. Gallagher pointed out that one of the requirements was that the recipient of a living should be ordained.”

“Of course,” said Miss Lydia.

“And do you know what the requirements are for taking orders?”

“Why would I know something like that?”

“I guess you would not. But Mr. Gallagher does. Really, it is one of the many benefits of having great solicitors at one’s disposal - they know the strangest things.”

“Like what?” asked Maria.

“If one wishes to take orders, one would need a university degree and a testimonial from their college, vouching for their fitness to the office. Then one would need to pass a bishop’s examination to determine one understands enough Latin and is familiar with the Scripture, the liturgy and the doctrines.”

“Yes, all manner of church things.”

“Right, Miss Lydia, all manner of church things.”

Mr. Darcy was quiet for a while, looking perfectly calm and unruffled, but Lady Lucas had the distinct notion that he was preparing for the kill.

“Now, Miss Lydia, which of these requirements do you think Mr. Wickham would be able to fulfil?”

Miss Lydia expressed her certainty that Mr. Wickham could fulfil anything he wanted to, and Mr. Bennet laughed, for some reason, before telling her to be quiet.

“He might have bluffed his way through some oral exams but I know for a fact that he was never able to learn passable Latin,” said Mr. Darcy. “You could ask him about the Revelation and he will assume you are talking about a seedy tavern on the outskirts of Cambridge. He has read two books in his life, both with more pictures than the Bible.”

“But surely one would need to read a little more in order to get a university degree,” said Charlotte.

“Exactly my point, Miss Lucas,” said Mr. Darcy. “Although my father sponsored his education in Cambridge, or thought he did, Mr. George Wickham never received a degree.”

“Oh!” said Miss Elizabeth.

“He has never spoken like a scholar, did he?” said Charlotte.

“It only goes to show that breeding will tell,” Miss Bingley said. “He is a steward’s son, after all.”

“I tend to believe he did not fail because he was a steward’s son but because he refused to apply himself to his studies,” Mr. Darcy said.

“I do not speak like a scholar,” said Mr. Bingley.

“You are welcome to speak any way you like, Mr. Bingley,” said Mrs. Bennet.

“So how did he get out of Cambridge without a degree?” Mr. Bennet asked.

“Oh, very easily. He told my father that he was busy studying but in fact he received very little education. He did not excel in the few courses he attempted, and most of the funds intended to support his studies he gambled away. Some of the money was used to buy finery, in order to pass himself as a man of means. He wanted to make his fortune marrying an heiress. Alas, he had no luck doing that, although it was not for want of trying.”

“Oh, he does not sound like a man anyone would like to see near their wealthy daughters,” said Sir William.

“Not the poor ones either, I dare say,” said Mr. Darcy. “He is not above seducing maids, shop girls and impoverished gentlewomen. And pardon me for being indelicate, but there are two mothers in Lambton whose toddlers look just like Mr. Wickham did as a child.”

“Unmarried?” asked Mrs. Bennet.

“They both have married by now,” said Mr. Darcy. “Not to Mr. Wickham, obviously.”

“Good for them,” said Sir William. “Anyone is likely to be a better husband than that bounder.”

“Charlotte, I know you said that happiness in marriage is a matter of chance, no matter who the husband is,” said Miss Elizabeth. “But you have to admit that it is a very distant possibility with such a cad and a gambler.”

“As described, he would certainly be nobody’s ideal husband,” said Charlotte. “Nor an ideal clergyman.”

“I would be surprised if he was able to receive a letter of recommendation from his college,” said Mr. Darcy. “Dallying with the female relatives of one of the professors may have prejudiced them against his fitness to serve the church.”

“One would hardly wish to believe that anyone could be so depraved,” said Miss Bennet.

“He always seemed so amiable,” said Sir William.

“It serves him well in his chosen career as a garden implement,” opined Mr. Hurst. Lady Lucas had thought that the card players had been attending to their game and not the ongoing conversation but it turned out that at least Mr. Hurst could divide his attention to several things at the same time. “Cantankerous fellows such as Darcy or myself could hardly have as much success as a rake.”

“This is all just vicious lies,” said Miss Lydia.

“It is quite beyond the pale to doubt the assertions of such a man as Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Bingley.

“Darcy must be considered something of an authority in this matter,” said Mr. Bingley, “as he has known that man very intimately for years.”

“Yes and hated him for a long time!”

“I realise that you have merely my word about this, Miss Lydia, and I am asking a lot, expecting you to heed me before seeing any of my proof,” Mr. Darcy said. “But then again, you believed that I am a scoundrel who would cheat a childhood friend when you had merely Mr. Wickham’s word about it, so this could not be an entirely new experience for you.”

“Good heavens!” exclaimed Miss Elizabeth.

“I can easily provide other accounts of Mr. Wickham’s debauchery from many of his former friends, including my cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam as well as other Cambridge fellows. Mr. Wickham was not always discreet and some of his exploits were well known.” Mr. Darcy looked around his audience, fixating on Mr. Bennet. “Although perhaps the more explicit part of this evidence would be best restricted to the fathers of our company.”

“Perhaps it would be best,” breathed Lady Lucas on an inhale.

“Such a handsome man! And so bad!” said Miss Kitty.

“Just like in the novels!” exclaimed Maria.

“A man without honour and a conscience,” said Miss Mary. “Let this serve as a lesson for us all, not to trust a frivolous character so readily.”

“Has there ever been any evidence of his goodness beyond a handsome face, a cheerful smile and an abundance of conversation?” asked Charlotte.

“Penelope will never believe this,” said Maria.

“I knew it all along,” said Mrs. Bennet. “I always had such a bad feeling about him.”

“I do not credit a word of it,” said Miss Lydia, although she looked a lot less certain of herself than she had been before.

“For the truth of everything here related, I can appeal more particularly to the testimony of Colonel Fitzwilliam, who, from our near relationship and constant intimacy, and, still more, as one of the executors of my father's will, has been unavoidably acquainted with every particular of these transactions. If your abhorrence of me should make my assertions valueless, you cannot be prevented by the same cause from confiding in my cousin; and that there may be the possibility of consulting him I shall furnish Mr. Bennet with his direction.”

“Perhaps you might consider enlightening Colonel Forster of these particulars as well,” said Mr. Bennet.

It took some effort on Lady Lucas’s part but eventually the conversation was diverted into less confrontational topics. Miss Elizabeth played a Scottish folk song. Mrs. Goulding told them how her joints were faring, and Mr. Goulding bore it with equanimity. Both Miss Bingley and Miss Mary had taken great joy in Mr. Wickham’s fall from grace, as Miss Mary was able to recite some of her favourite moralistic quotations about honesty and virtue, and Miss Bingley was able to describe recent London events she had attended in remarkable detail, noting that none of the hostesses of quality would admit a steward’s son. Sir William wondered if they might meet at St James’s.

Miss Lydia had been very quiet for the rest of the evening. Charlotte took the opportunity to talk to her, Maria, and Miss Kitty about the need for caution when dealing with the officers and other young men. Mrs. Bennet no longer bemoaned the absence of the officers. Mr. Bennet made some effort to converse with Mr. Darcy. Mrs. Hurst was happy because she had won two shillings. Mr. Hurst told Lady Lucas that it had been a splendid dinner and the roast beef was particularly well done. Mrs. Long had not passed out in her chair at any point of the evening. Miss Bennet and Mr. Bingley had spent an hour whispering in a corner.

While waiting for the carriages, Miss Elizabeth had spoken with Mr. Darcy about something in a very quiet voice. Lady Lucas could not hear what they said. But for once, Mr. Darcy looked very happy to be exactly where he was, and Lady Lucas counted it as a victory.

Chapter Text

The Gouldings had already gone home but the Bennets and the Netherfield party still lingered, waiting for their carriages.

“You must allow me to thank you for revealing Mr. Wickham’s character,” said Miss Elizabeth Bennet quietly. “I know it cannot have been pleasant for you.”

“Ordinarily I would prefer not to exhibit my private affairs nor to discuss my dealings with other people of my acquaintance,” Mr. Darcy replied. “But since George Wickham already made our previous association a matter of public interest in Meryton he could have no objection to revealing the other side of the story.”

“At first I did not consider it odd that he was so ready to confide his past woes to strangers. But now I believe that he was afraid that you would say something and wanted to preemptively cast you as a villain instead.”

“Yes, it sounds like something Wickham would do.”

“He has been very well liked in Meryton and might have caused a great deal of trouble if no one knew of his perfidy.”

“That man has a great talent for recommending himself to strangers and an easy ability of making friends,” said Mr. Darcy. “As several of his former friends can attest.”

“I think tonight was an indispensable reminder for many of us, not to trust people we have not known very long too readily.”

“When we are old friends I hope you will have found me worthy of your trust, Miss Elizabeth.”

“After all, you promised to bring the receipts, sir,” she said lightly. “I reserve the right to change my mind if your legal team proves to be less impressive than the stellar reputation that you have given them.”

“One thing that I have learned from them is that it is hard to argue with proof.”

“I think you made your case. But Lydia might find it difficult to admit, having committed to Mr. Wickham’s protection so publicly.”

“Even if deluded, it was very brave of her to charge in the battle, in defense of her friend,” said Mr. Darcy. “She must be very young.”

“She is fifteen years old.”

“Pardon me for saying so but she is far too young to be allowed to be friends with the likes of George Wickham.”

“I quite agree, sir. My hope is that tonight you may have scared my father into taking greater care in regards to the company Kitty and Lydia are allowed to keep.”

“I was attempting to, in any case. I told him what happened to some other young ladies who were allowed too much contact with Mr. Wickham, and he noted he was not certain about the moral character of any other officers either.”

“It is rather difficult to ascertain if the only evidence available to us is how cheerfully somebody talks on a brief social call.”

“I have little talent in that arena so it is no wonder I was deemed a reprobate.”

“Tonight, your discourse was perfectly fascinating and kept everyone riveted, so I think it is not lack of skill, it is just that you would rather not take the trouble to speak with people.”

“Perhaps.”

“No, the real crime that marks you as a blackhearted scoundrel is that you do not dance.”

This made Mr. Darcy laugh. “I beg to differ, Miss Elizabeth, it is you who are the greater sinner here. I have asked you to dance twice now, and twice you have refused me.”

“Well, perhaps the third time is the charm.”

“I shall hold you to that.”

“You can prove your true mettle at the next assembly if you are still in Hertfordshire.”

“I wish to prove my mettle at the ball that Bingley is planning to invite everyone to shortly,” Mr. Darcy said. “And to that effect, I would like to request your company for the supper dance.”

“Let me check my dance card,” Miss Elizabeth said. “Yes, I am available for the supper dance.”

Chapter Text

The week after the soiree at Lucas Lodge, the militia officers had a busy week rehearsing military manoeuvres the regiment would probably never be required to perform. They had had very little time for social calls, and if some in the village felt less cordial towards Mr. Wickham it caused him no distress as he knew nothing about it.

Mr. Bingley and Mr. Hurst made their rounds in most of the principal households in Meryton, inviting them to a ball at Netherfield. Mr. Darcy had gone to London. Mrs. Goulding went to see the apothecary about an ache in her wrist and had tea with Mrs. Jones. Sir William Lucas met with his tenants and made an order at the tailor’s. Several neighbours called on Mrs. Long and her nieces, and Lady Lucas visited several shops in Meryton.

Even Mr. Bennet was uncommonly sociable. After receiving his letters one day, he took his horse and rode out to Meryton. He spoke at length with his brother-in-law, and enjoyed his luncheon at the inn with Sir William Lucas, Mr. Goulding, Mr. Hurst, and Colonel Forster.

Upon returning, Mr. Bennet told Hill that none of the Bennets would be at home should Mr. Wickham come to call and Mr. Bennet was to be informed immediately if any other young men from the regiment made an appearance at Longbourn. Moreover, Miss Lydia would be requiring a light supper at home the evening of the ball as she would not be attending. Lydia had a lot to say about that, most of it loudly and in the hearing of the servants. But Mr. Bennet would not bend. He said Lydia had stood up for the greatest scoundrel in the regiment and she would have to learn more discernment before she could be allowed to befriend the runners-up.

“My dear Lydia,” Mrs. Bennet said comfortingly, “Mr. Wickham can be no loss to you. For he is quite penniless and could not keep you in the style and comfort you deserve. If you married him you would have to pluck your own chickens, if you could afford them, and if you had any nice gowns he would probably sell them to pay for his gambling.”

Lydia promised her father faithfully that she liked many other officers much better than Mr. Wickham but Mr. Bennet said that if any of them were silly enough to have honourable intentions they should first present themselves in his bookroom and currently there was no queue.

Lydia’s displeasure was so vocal and long-lasting that in the end, Miss Kitty was not able to attend the ball either. The noise had triggered a most dreadful headache, and she just wanted to lie down in a dark room, holding a cold compress on her forehead, utterly disgusted with her youngest sister.

So it was only the Bennet parents and the three eldest daughters who got ready for the festivities.

“Mr. Wickham might be there,” Mr. Bennet told his ladies in the carriage. “If he should approach any of you, it is important that you keep your conversation to the weather and similar commonplace subjects. Pray do not mention any of the things that Mr. Darcy related last week, to avoid distressing scenes.”

“Is he to be treated just like any friendly acquaintance then?” Mrs. Bennet asked. “But he is such a man!”

“It would be best to not alarm him. If he knew that you knew the truth about him he might wish to harm you somehow.”

“But what if he harms someone else?” Miss Elizabeth was concerned. “There are plenty of people in attendance that he might seek to flatter and swindle.”

“I do believe that there is a plan to contain his influence,” Mr. Bennet said. “And Sir William told me that many people in Meryton are wise to his lies now, so hopefully they have warned their daughters and their gamblers about him. Just be patient, and please stand well away from him if there are any agitated feelings. There is to be no skulking in dark corners tonight; if you need the retiring room, take a sister with you.”

These warnings seemed uncharacteristic as Mr. Bennet was usually content to leave his family to their own contrivances but Miss Elizabeth could not be sorry that her father had been scared into considering their safety. There were more strangers in the area after all.

Mr. Bingley greeted everyone cheerfully, Miss Bingley with great condescension.

“You may rest quite easy, as we shall not stand on excessive ceremony that might disconcert those accustomed to more modest surroundings.”

“We are very grateful, Miss Bingley,” said Miss Elizabeth. “I do hope I got all the hay out of my hair.”

“By no means, Miss Eliza,” said Miss Bingley. “The hay is part of your charm.”

Miss Bingley had done a magnificent job decorating Netherfield Park. The candles were of the best quality and the flowers should have been well out of season. The floors and the furniture all smelled of wax and cleanliness, and the servants were dressed in impeccable livery. Every detail was designed to impress the guests with Miss Bingley’s superior breeding and fortune, persuading them that this event was far grander and and above anything that rural Hertfordshire had ever seen before. Indeed, many guests were duly awed, although the vicar was heard grumbling about the wastefulness of it all, wondering how many poor families could have been supported throughout the winter with what people spent on one evening. The vicar was a principled man who would not agree to gamble or to dance at any local gatherings. However, he was frequently in attendance because he was not in general opposed to a free meal.

In the ballroom, Miss Lucas and Miss Maria had been whispering with their friends, discussing Mr. Wickham. They had received very similar warnings from Sir William. If the lieutenant talked to them they were to keep it brief and superficial, and Lady Lucas had told them that they would be allowed to make up an excuse if he asked them to dance.

“No one will think worse of you after everything is said and done,” Lady Lucas said.

Miss Penelope Harrington was simultaneously scandalised and intrigued by the unexpected twist, and not a little giddy. “It is just like a story. There are handsome strangers from the north, and one of them is a liar and a cad.”

“How can you be sure that it was Mr. Wickham who lied?” said Miss Long. “Aunt said that he is a scoundrel because Mr. Darcy said so. But he had no proof and could have been making it up.”

“I believed Mr. Darcy,” Miss Lucas said. “Everything he said made sense and he was willing to provide other sources to corroborate his story.”

“Even if he had been mistreated it was not kindly done of Mr. Wickham to gossip about Mr. Darcy so,” Miss Bennet said. “Mr. Darcy was right to guard their privacy and would have said nothing about Mr. Wickham if his own reputation had not been at stake.”

“Oh, does Mr. Darcy ever say much about anything?” Miss Long wondered. “He is so silent and glowering, and Mr. Wickham is always so friendly. I cannot believe that he is so bad.”

“Think about gothic novels,” Miss Maria said. “The nice person that the heroine never suspects always turns out to be the crazed murderer, and it is the dark and broody, scary man who saves her.”

“Nobody has been murdered, Maria,” Miss Lucas said.

“I know but in all the good books, the villain gets revealed in the end, and the hero gets the girl.”

“But who is the heroine of this story?” Miss Penelope asked.

“Hard to say. Do we know any orphans who are locked in a tower?” Miss Elizabeth said.

“It is just like Udolpho,” Miss Penelope sighed. “Only I thought Mr. Wickham was Valancourt but he is Count Morano.”

“I thought he was so handsome,” Miss Maria said. “But Mr. Darcy is also quite dashing.”

“Oh, but Mr. Darcy is so stern,” Miss Penelope said doubtfully. “I could never speak to him.”

“I imagine he may be one of those people who improve upon closer scrutiny,” said Miss Lucas.

“He would have been within his rights to be rude to Lydia at Lucas Lodge because Lydia was quite horrid to him first, making false accusations,” Miss Elizabeth said.

“But he spoke very politely and treated her with remarkable kindness throughout,” Miss Bennet noted. “And he is Mr. Bingley’s friend which must be a point in his favour.”

“In Jane’s eyes it will absolve him of every suspicion,” Miss Elizabeth laughed.

“It is a bit strange that they are friends,” Miss Maria said. “Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley seem very different characters. Mr. Bingley likes to dance above anything, and Mr. Darcy…” She darted a glance at Miss Elizabeth who thought she might have been about to bring up the assembly

“Fortunately he would never deign to ask any of us to dance,” Miss Penelope said. “He is engaged to his cousin.”

“According to Mr. Wickham,” Miss Lucas said.

“Oh, do you think everything that man ever said was a lie?” Miss Penelope asked.

“I think there might be a grain of truth in some of his lies,” said Miss Elizabeth. “But if he told you that you have two shoes you should probably stop and check that he did not steal one of them.”

They chatted with the Gouldings and Mrs. Long for a moment, and Mr. Hurst stopped to tell them that they should expect a most interesting supper. Miss Bennet said Miss Bingley’s arrangements seemed quite perfect so she was sure the supper would also be extraordinary. Mr. Hurst agreed that Caroline had done a good job. However, she was not responsible for the most remarkable plans.

“Of course, Mrs. Hurst must have been of a great deal of assistance,” Miss Bennet said, “and Mrs. Nicholls is very capable.”

“We do rely a lot on Mrs. Nicholls but she had plenty of help,” Mr. Hurst said.

Miss Elizabeth and Miss Bennet looked around and were able to spot several servants that they had never seen at Netherfield before. There were also some guests who looked unfamiliar and must have been people the Bingleys invited from London.

Mr. and Mrs. Phillips came to say hello. “Is everything going as it should?” Mr. Phillips asked.

“Everything is good, so far, although we have not seen any of the officers yet,” Mr. Hurst said.

Mrs. Phillips expressed her hope that the officers would make sure all the girls had plenty of partners. “But you are not to go anywhere outside the ballroom alone. We know nothing about most of them, only what they have told us themselves.”

This promise was given with some unease.

“The general level of mistrust seems to have risen noticeably since the assembly,” said Miss Bennet unhappily. “We had no problem welcoming strangers then.”

“We can still be kind to strangers, Jane,” Miss Elizabeth said, “but perhaps it would not hurt to make sure they are trustworthy before trusting them. On my part, I am glad that we received that lesson because I was far too gullible believing unsolicited stories of woe.”

Colonel Forster entered then with a number of officers that they were familiar with, looking splendid in their red coats. Mr. Wickham seemed his cheerful, carefree self, greeting everyone familiarly and chatting about this and that with everyone, not always expecting a response. Some of the reactions he received may have been slightly chilly but he appeared to pay little notice as he weaved his way through the ballroom. Lady Lucas decided there was someone they absolutely must greet on the other side of the room and steered her daughters well away from him.

“Mrs. Bennet, you must be the belle of the ball,” Mr. Wickham said. “Mr. Bennet, your servant.”

“Good evening, Mr. Wickham,” Mr. Bennet said.

“And where are your beautiful daughters, Mrs. Bennet?” he asked. “Your other beautiful daughters, I mean.”

“All my daughters are beautiful, Mr. Wickham,” Mrs. Bennet said.

“When one has so many one can hardly tell one from the other,” said Mr. Bennet. “However, we must make do with the ones we could find.”

“Oh, what a shame that Miss Lydia and Miss Catherine could not attend,” Mr. Wickham said. “Their company is our loss. But we are going to have a merry party regardless.”

“Yes, we should hope,” Mr. Bennet said.

“The music is about to commence,” Mr. Wickham noted. “We are lucky to hear such wonderful musicians.”

“Yes, nothing but the best will do for Miss Bingley,” Miss Elizabeth said.

“I was told that Mr. Bingley is to open the dance with you, Miss Bennet. So Miss Elizabeth, might I have the honour of the first dance?”

Miss Elizabeth was momentarily at a loss for words. She had no wish to grant Mr. Wickham the honour of anything at all, and she had planned to be too fatigued from the dancing to take to the floor with him should he ask, but she had not taken into account that she would be asked for the first set. “Well, you see, Mr. Wickham,” she said, looking over his shoulder, attempting to come up with another excuse. Then her eyes settled upon Mr. Darcy who had come in with a couple of strangers and stood a bit further along the wall. She caught his eye, looking at him beseechingly.

Mr. Darcy was admirably quick to grasp the situation, and in a few long steps, he was in front of her, bowing politely. “Good evening, Mrs. Bennet, Mr. Bennet. Miss Bennet, I hope Mr. Bingley will spare your toes shortly. He has been greatly anticipating opening the ball with you. Miss Elizabeth, I believe this is my dance.”

“Oh, yes, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Elizabeth was eager to agree. “We should take our places.”

“Darcy, I thought you had gone to London,” Mr. Wickham said. He looked a little pale.

“Quite right,” Mr. Darcy agreed. “I did go but I came back. I suppose the gossip failed to take notice of that.”

“We are very lucky that the road goes both ways nowadays,” Mr. Bennet said. “In my youth it used to be only one direction and if you went to London it was a dashed inconvenience trying get back.”

“Progress is a wonderful thing,” Mr. Darcy said. “Wickham, I hope you will enjoy your evening.”

When the dancers were gathering Miss Elizabeth saw that Miss Bingley opened the ball with Mr. Hurst. Mr. Bingley was beaming at Miss Bennet, chattering excitedly. Miss Mary was asked to dance by one of the officers who was not Mr. Wickham.

“I thank you for rescuing me from my poor planning,” Miss Elizabeth said. “I had only prepared one excuse should he ask me. I was to say I was too tired to dance but I could not be such a pitiful creature that is too fatigued for the first set.”

“No, I dare say you could not,” Mr. Darcy agreed. “But hopefully someone can keep him occupied for a few sets before the supper.”

“I am sure Mary would enjoy quoting some sermons at him.”

“Yes, it would be better if he was to deal with someone who has been warned.”

“True but I think more people have been warned by now. This is a small town.”

“True, I gather his stories about me made it around the town pretty fast as well.”

“I am sorry, gossip is sadly rife here.”

“It is the same thing in town, and everywhere else,” Mr. Darcy said. “But I think we can use it for our benefit occasionally.”

“Oh, what are you planning?”

“At Lucas Lodge, I made some promises that I am intending to keep. But I am going to need some help, and not everyone has arrived yet.”

“Is there going to be trouble?”

“I trust there are enough officers to keep the peace. After the supper, he is unlikely to stay, I think.”

“Oh, it occurs to me that the supper set would be our second tonight. Maybe you would like to ask someone else to dance it with you.”

“Miss Elizabeth, you promised me the supper set,” he said, frowning. “Do you wish to renege on your promise?”

“Well, if you put it like that,” she said. “I cannot have you thinking I am not a woman of my word.”

“That is a relief,” he said. “You cannot make me a wallflower.”

“Oh, you must dance to impress other potential partners then. The next figure is quite a lively one.”

The steps of the dance had them changing partners and Miss Elizabeth twirled around the room with Mr. Bingley and various others. When Miss Elizabeth had reached Mr. Darcy again she said, “It is your turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. I talked about the dance, and you ought to make some kind of remark on the size of the room, or the number of couples.”

He smiled, and assured her that whatever she wished him to say should be said.

“Very well; that reply will do for the present. Perhaps, by-and-by, I may observe that private balls are much pleasanter than public ones; but now we may be silent.”

“Do you talk by rule, then, while you are dancing?”

“Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be entirely silent for half an hour together,” she said, lowering her voice, “and he is watching us now.”

“So is Miss Bingley,” he said quietly.

“Indeed, if looks could kill…”

“This might easily be our last dance.”

“I did not expect to offend people so much by dancing - we are at a ball after all.”

“Well, Miss Bingley did say that conversation would be more rational than dancing,” Mr. Darcy remembered.

“But savages can speak, and frequently do.”

“So what shall we speak of? What think you of books?”

During the rest of the set they discovered that despite the impressive size of his library, they had several unread books in common. He was partial to history and the natural sciences but rarely read novels because he found them to be unrealistic. She told him that most autobiographies should be classified on the fiction shelves.

After the dance ended he guided her to the refreshment table. A group of strangers was standing nearby and Mr. Darcy asked her if he could make some introductions. A warm, respectable elderly woman turned out to be Mrs. Reynolds, Mr. Darcy’s housekeeper. Miss Elizabeth briefly wondered why his housekeeper had been invited, but it seemed that they were on very friendly terms.

“We would be quite lost without her at Pemberley,” he said.

“Oh, what a load of fustian,” Mrs. Reynolds said. “You would do fine, Mr. Darcy, as you always do.” To Miss Elizabeth, she added, in a confidential manner, “He is the best landlord, and the best master that ever lived.”

Mr. Darcy looked embarrassed. “No, Mrs. Reynolds, you cannot go on like that or Miss Elizabeth will think that I paid you to compliment me.”

“Well, you might as well,” Mrs. Reynolds said. “There is not one of his tenants or servants but what will give him a good name, Miss Elizabeth.”

“It is to his credit I am sure,” Miss Elizabeth said. “I am certain the servants know all the worst that there is to know about everyone.”

“Some people call him proud; but I am sure I never saw anything of it. To my fancy, it is only because he does not rattle away like other young men.”

“Oh I think he does,” Miss Elizabeth said. “Occasionally, when the mood strikes him. He has frightful opinions about novels. Do you know that he thinks they should be more realistic?”

“But the fantastical ones are the best kind,” Mrs. Reynolds said.

“Exactly. Are there any secret passages at Pemberley?”

Mrs. Reynolds told Miss Elizabeth a little about the estate and the beautiful grounds but alas, she was not aware of any secret passages.

“Of course you would not tell me if you knew. Because it would not be a secret anymore.”

Miss Elizabeth found out that Mrs. Reynolds had come to the ball because Mr. Darcy had needed some documents delivered from Pemberley. The next day, she was to go to Hatfield.

“My daughter has had her first child, and Mr. Darcy was kind enough to allow me extra leave in order to go see her. I am finally going to see my little grandson.”

Miss Elizabeth congratulated her and they spent some time talking about the baby who, according to Mrs. Reynolds, was the most accomplished baby in recent history, although he was only two months old.

“I wish we had some children at Pemberley,” she sighed.

“Maybe you will, once Darcy gets married,” Mr. Bingley said. He stood nearby with Jane and Elizabeth had not thought that he saw or heard anyone else. But he was not so much in love that he could not also tease his friend. “Being a staid and settled married man would be just the thing for you, it would save you a lot of dancing.”

“Pemberley could do with a mistress,” Mrs. Reynolds said. “But I do not know who is good enough for him.”

“Perhaps he does,” said Miss Bingley.

“Perhaps he does,” agreed Mr. Darcy.

Initially Miss Bingley had been leery about allowing a housekeeper to attend her ball as a guest, but if it was Mr. Darcy’s particular wish she could do nothing but accede. And as an intimate of the Darcys, the woman might be a useful source of information. Soon Miss Bingley and Mrs. Reynolds were drawn into a conversation about Pemberley and all of its virtues.

Mr. Darcy took the opportunity to introduce Mr. Fenton and Sir Arthur Hobbesley to Miss Elizabeth and Miss Bennet. “We knew each other in Eton and Cambridge.”

“The debate team was never the same without Darcy,” Mr. Fenton said.

“And this is Mr. Gallagher.”

Mr. Gallagher was a red haired young man of solemn countenance who looked about Mr. Darcy’s age, perhaps slightly older.

“I told him that I have given him a good reputation in Meryton and I depend upon him to impress you of my truthfulness,” Mr. Darcy said.

“Mr. Darcy, I trust you are aware that this kind of pressure does not help propagate natural ballroom conversation among strangers,” Mr. Gallagher said.

“There is nothing to fear,” Mr. Darcy said. “Should there be a lull in the discussion, Miss Elizabeth is willing to assist with suitable cues. For instance, the size of the room is considered an acceptable topic.”

“Oh, the dimensions of the ballroom are quite reasonable for a manor like this,” Mr. Fenton said. “However, the stables could be more spacious.”

Mr. Darcy’s friends agreed that if there were many more guests the Netherfield stables could not comfortably house their horses, and thus, this subject was exhausted. Miss Elizabeth asked about their travels and was told that all three gentlemen had shared a carriage from London. The other two planned to return the next day but Mr. Gallagher was to stay at least a day or two as he and Mr. Darcy were to work on some legal document.

Mr. Gallagher solicited her hand for the next dance. He was not a dashing dancer but knew the steps, followed the rhythm, and could tell his left from his right which made him an adequate partner.

“Have you known Mr. Darcy for long?” she asked.

“Twelve years or more. My father was his father’s solicitor.”

“And now you are Mr. Darcy’s.”

“Yes, I have had that honour for a while now..”

“Did you go to Cambridge as well?”

“No, I am an Oxford man.”

“Mr. Darcy has mentioned you previously and appears to have every confidence in you but I was surprised to see you here today.”

“As he is always willing to compensate for one’s time generously and even arranged for the transport it was my pleasure to oblige him in this endeavour,” Mr. Gallagher said. “This ball is sure to be a most interesting event, and it is a rather important document that we are to draft tomorrow. I always find it more efficient to write contracts when one can ask questions in person and make changes immediately. It takes such a long time if one has to rely on correspondence.”

“Right.”

“But he might tell you more about that later.”

“Perhaps.” Miss Elizabeth fell quiet. This all seemed a little strange.

Mr. Gallagher seemed to read her thoughts as he said, “I daresay this seems rather singular, and I am not at liberty to explain everything just yet, but my instructions are to tell you that I am to make myself available to respond all of your questions in more privacy later.”

“Right,” she said. “That is encouraging, but I do not even know where to start asking anything.”

He smiled somewhat cryptically. “I reckon things will seem clearer once everything is said and done.”

“Is everything ever said and done?”

“I stand corrected. It would take a very long time to say and do absolutely everything. Let us say once we are done with tonight’s entertainment.”

During this set, Mr. Darcy had done his duty and danced with Miss Bingley.

Once the dance was over, Mr. Gallagher was introduced to Miss Lucas and they seemed to get along well.

It looked like Mr. Wickham was having some trouble acquiring dance partners. When he asked Miss King to dance Miss King did not hear him. She did not spare him a glance but turned around to talk to her aunt instead, and they disappeared into the ladies’ retiring room. This seemed to leave Mr. Wickham a little baffled.

“Are you free for this dance, Miss Elizabeth?” he asked next.

“I believe Miss Elizabeth is promised to me for this one,” said Sir Arthur. She was not but she was happy to go along with the ruse if it saved her a dance with Mr. Wickham.

“Sir Arthur,” Mr. Wickham said. He seemed a little taken aback to recognise him. “What are you doing here?”

“Dancing with a beautiful lady,” Sir Arthur said. “I am a lucky man.”

“You are a long way from Shropshire. I was not aware that you know each other.”

“True; and nobody can ever be introduced in a ball-room. Shall we, Miss Elizabeth?”

Sir Arthur and Miss Elizabeth took their places next to Mr. Gallagher and Miss Lucas. Mr. Darcy did not acquire a partner for this one. Instead, he stood in a corner, speaking with Mr. Bennet, Mr. Phillips and Mr. Goulding.

“Lady Lucas, such magnificent pearls,” Mr. Wickham was heard saying. “You are the belle of the ball and quite outshine everyone here.”

“Why, thank you, Mr. Wickham,” Lady Lucas said. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

Sir Arthur was a jovial, talkative man, and he had no trouble filling time with happy chatter. Miss Elizabeth heard stories about his misspent youth in Eton, some of which Mr. Wickham had been a part of. Mr. Darcy had attempted to help him study.

“Unfortunately his efforts were mostly wasted,” Sir Arthur said. “I had no head for mathematics. But then I have always supposed it to be my own fault—because I would not take the trouble of practising.”

“I can certainly understand that.”

“I hope I am a little wiser now,” he said. “For I employ a great steward. He can divide and multiply at will, and it leaves time for me to practice things that I have a better chance being good at that are not of any use whatsoever.”

Miss Elizabeth’s partners for the next dances were local men she knew well. During a break, Mr. Darcy found Miss Elizabeth again and introduced her to even more strangers. “Everyone I expected has finally arrived, Miss Elizabeth.”

The newcomers were his cousins, Viscount Hartwell, and Colonel Fitzwilliam.

“I am happy to make your acquaintance,” Lord Hartwell said.

“I hope to be able to dance with you later,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “But I need to greet an old friend first. Where is that bounder?”

“I think he went to the card room,” Mr. Darcy said.

Indeed, Mr. Wickham was there, loitering near the punch bowl. The vicar and Miss Mary stood next to him, and Miss Mary was asking some oddly unconnected, overly loud questions about what the Bible said about dishonesty.

“Miss Mary, I think you will find that the Bible disapproves,” Mr. Wickham said.

“The Lord will abhor the bloody and deceitful man,” the vicar intoned ominously. “For there is no faithfulness in their mouth; their inward part is very wickedness; their throat is an open sepulchre; they flatter with their tongue.”

“Capital,” said Sir William Lucas. “Perhaps there is something about debt as well.”

“And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors,” the vicar said.

“Is there something that says you should pay what you owe?” Sir Arthur asked.

“Oy, George, should you be listening to this? It might confuse you,” When Colonel Fitzwilliam slapped a heavy hand on his shoulder, Mr. Wickham did not seem at all happy to recognise him.

"Are you having a magical night, George? Have you made the acquaintance of any heiresses yet?”

Mr. Wickham did not respond. But the Colonel did not appear to require a response. “Right, I forgot. We have all met Miss Bingley. A wonderful woman, you will know her by her feathers. Sadly, you might not be her sort of person, though. Say, George, what have you been up to? We simply must catch up, it has been far too long. That coat looks good on you, it suits your colouring very well. A lieutenant, are you? Excellent, I am so happy for you. It is not good for a man, not to have honest employment, and what could be better than to serve your country? How many times have you been shot at, so far? Never? How surprising…”

Mr. Darcy took Miss Elizabeth’s hand. “My cousin will be able to take care of him for a while,” he whispered. “He is one of those who can rattle away all night all by himself, without anyone else’s participation.”

“The monologue is a noble art form,” Miss Elizabeth said.

“So is moving to music,” Mr. Darcy said. “The supper dance is about to start.”

Miss Bennet had been quite popular with various partners throughout the evening but now she was dancing with Mr. Bingley again. Miss Bingley had not graced the dance floor much during the evening. After dancing with Mr. Hurst, and Mr. Darcy, she had shared one set with Sir Arthur but deemed hardly anyone else worth her hand. She had been quite busy with her hostessing duties, made more onerous by all the excessive grandeur and perfection that she had demanded. But she was able to take a break from yelling at the servants long enough to send Miss Elizabeth more death glares.

“Might your cousin ask Miss Bingley to dance? I think she would be happier dancing with a viscount.”

“You are very kind to concern yourself about Miss Bingley’s happiness but Hartwell is not a dancer. A riding accident gave him a stiff leg.”

“Oh, I have learned so much about you and your life, your friends, your family tonight.”

“Nothing too damning I hope. You see, I have a reputation I am hoping to fix, here in Meryton.”

“Well, it is a bit of this, a bit of that. Mrs. Reynolds is quite in love with you but Sir Arthur seems like a bad influence,” she said, eyes twinkling. “He is shockingly indifferent to algebra.”

“It is not his fault,” he said. “It is hard to find out Y.” He made a hand sign to denote a letter.

“Oh, Mr. Darcy, I thought I could count on you but that was a terrible pun.”

“When you think about it, it all adds up.”

“For shame, Mr. Darcy!”

Mrs. Bennet was not a mathematical genius but she could count to two, and she appeared somewhat excited that both her two eldest daughters were dancing a second set with an eligible gentleman. She was heard exclaiming her happiness to Mrs. Long. Miss Elizabeth would have been embarrassed but Mr. Darcy did not appear to care. Mrs. Reynolds was sitting with the matrons and Miss Elizabeth thought that she was sending Mr. Darcy some very sly looks as well.

“I hope you liked Mrs. Reynolds.”

“She seems nice.”

“Has she been at Pemberley for a long time?”

“Yes, ever since I was a child. We are lucky that she has seen fit to stay with us.”

“You seem like a generous master. She is so happy to see the baby.”

He laughed. “Her last letter was about nothing but the baby. He is a very bright child, you know.”

The dance steps separated them for a while as everyone went around in a big circle. Twirling back to his side, she saw that he had become more serious. “I hope you will not think the worst of me for what I am about to do. I have to, you understand.”

“Well, I do hope that all the cryptic references start to make sense sooner or later.”

“Would it help if I told you that the Operation Slap George, as my cousin named it, is about to commence any moment now?”

When the crowd moved towards the supper room Colonel Fitzwilliam was following very close to Mr. Wickham. Miss Elizabeth saw the moment that Mr. Wickham recognized Mrs. Reynolds, and it seemed to put the fear of the dark into the man. “Mrs. Reynolds!”

“I would say that it is nice to meet you but lying is a sin,” said Mrs. Reynolds.

“Whatever are you doing here?”

“Mr. Darcy invited me,” Mrs. Reynolds said. “It is a lovely night, by all accounts.”

“Right, right,” Mr. Wickham said. “Do enjoy your evening. I think I will just…”

Mr. Wickham mumbled something about his duties at the regiment and attempted to move towards the exit. But suddenly Colonel Forster was there. “No, no, lieutenant, there is nothing pressing at the regiment, I told you all that it was your night off.”

“Surely you cannot go without eating Miss Bingley’s wonderful supper,” Mr. Bennet said.

“A soldier must eat a good meal when it is available,” Captain Carter agreed.

“The white soup is divine,” Mr. Hurst said. “It tastes like chicken.”

“Mr. Wickham, you must sit by me and tell your opinion about it,” Mr. Goulding said.

The pressure of the crowd moved Mr. Wickham inexorably towards a certain table in the corner.

“Sit down, George,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said.

Chapter Text

“George, my friend, let us sit here,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. He had chosen seats at a table that stood on a little dais in the corner, a bit higher than the other tables. They faced the room and had their backs against the wall. “We have such a great view of the harpist from here.”

Miss Bingley had hired musicians to entertain the partygoers during the supper as well. The harp was set up on another dais nearby. Mr. Goulding and Colonel Forster sat on Mr. Wickham’s other side. Mr. Phillips, Mr. Bennet and Mr. Darcy took seats on the other side of that table. Miss Elizabeth sat between Mr. Darcy and Mr. Gallagher who partnered Miss Lucas. Next to Colonel Fitzwilliam, sat Captain Carter. He had danced the supper dance with Miss Mary, and the vicar took a seat next to her.

“I care not for harp music,” Mr. Wickham said. “I prefer something louder, less romantic, easier to dance to.”

“I know, old man, but it is deuced hard to eat while dancing. If you spill the soup it makes the floor very slippery, you know.” Colonel Fitzwilliam sipped his wine. “Maybe you don’t. This is a pretty advanced level of research.”

“I do have some experience with soup,” Mr. Wickham said.

“Good for you and your unique skills. George, my friend, it has been far too long since I have had the pleasure of your company over a good meal. Not since your unfortunate estrangement with...” Colonel Fitzwilliam trailed off.

“There is no need to be coy, Colonel, as we have all heard of Mr. Wickham’s quarrels with Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Goulding said.

“Oh, have you? All of you? Dear me, George, you are famous in Hertfordshire. Who would have thought?”

“I understand that Mr. Wickham has seen fit to relate a tale of my wrongdoings in several households in Meryton,” Mr. Darcy said.

“Well but perhaps we can put things right tonight,” Mr. Bennet said. “Now that you both are here, in the same place, at the same time, there is a chance for you to make reparations.”

“Indeed,” Mr. Goulding said. “Mr. Darcy, you might not know but I am the magistrate of the district, and Mr. Wickham has reported to me that you have committed a crime against him when you illegally and dishonourably disregarded a bequest in your father’s will.”

“You are the magistrate?” Mr. Wickham cried.

“Yes, is it not lucky for you, Mr. Wickham? I am in a position to initiate legal action, if warranted.”

“Legal action?”

“Yes, you have made quite serious accusations.”

“Oh but it is all water under the bridge now,” Mr. Wickham said. “I do not think that we should spoil the evening dwelling on such matters.”

“It is very good of you to think of our enjoyment,” Mr. Goulding said. “But as a man of my duties, I cannot agree that any act of dishonesty and callous disregard for the law is water under the bridge.”

“Callous disregard for the law?” Mr. Wickham seemed a little dumbfounded.

“Oh, excuse me but I fear this might concern me,” Mr. Gallagher said. “I hate to intrude, but as Mr. Darcy’s legal counsel I feel obliged to take an interest in the matter.”

“My goodness,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “Did I commit a crime as well? I was one of the executors of the will. George, old boy, I am so sorry, it must have been an oversight. Pray, do not press charges.”

“Charges?”

“For the dastardly act of stealing your rightful inheritance.”

“Is it a great idea to lie to a magistrate?” Miss Elizabeth asked.

“I am not lying!” Mr. Wickham gave her a look that revealed some annoyance. “Why are you taking Darcy’s side? I thought you did not like him. Are you angling for his riches now? He will never marry you, you know, he is engaged to his cousin.”

“I did not say that you lied to Mr. Goulding, I asked a question,” she said. “And I have not proposed to Mr. Darcy, we have merely danced."

“I dare say Miss Elizabeth’s marital prospects or lack thereof are irrelevant to our main point of contention,” Mr. Phillips said.

“It is not irrelevant to me,” Mr. Darcy said. “I am not engaged to my cousin.”

“According to your aunt, you are,” Mr. Wickham said.

“According to me, I am not.”

“Gentlemen, how do you suggest that we settle this disagreement?” Mr. Phillips asked.

“It would seem that Mr. Darcy is in the best position to know whether he got engaged or not,” Mr. Bennet said. “Unless he has memory problems.”

“Right,” Mr. Phillips said. “In the absence of a marital contract that says otherwise, I would be inclined to accept Mr. Darcy’s verdict on this.”

“Our office has certainly never produced such a document for Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Gallagher said. “So far.”

“So the burden of proof falls on Mr. Darcy’s aunt,” Mr. Phillips said. “If that is indeed what she says.”

“It is, but Aunt Cathy is quite deluded,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said.

“Darcy and Cousin Anne would not suit,” Lord Hartwell said.

“Darcy has told me before that his aunt has unfounded hopes,” Mr. Bingley said. Mr. Bingley, Miss Bennet, Lord Hartwell and Mrs. Bennet had settled in a nearby table with the Lucases and the Hursts, and apparently could hear everything.

“Excellent, let us consider it settled,” Mr. Phillips said.

“Yes, let the record reflect that several witnesses have stated that Mr. Darcy is not engaged to his cousin, despite Mr. Wickham’s contrary claims,” Mr. Gallagher said.

“Well, we have not been intimate friends of late,” Mr. Wickham said. “It is possible that I was mistaken.”

“Right,” Mr. Phillips said. “It is not a crime to make a mistake.”

“But it is a mistake to commit a crime,” Mr. Darcy said.

“You are one to speak!” Mr. Wickham said menacingly. He had kept a neutral countenance up until now but apparently, now he had decided that attack was the best defense. “You cheated me out of my inheritance criminally! It was my godfather’s last wish that I get the living and you stole it from me.” He looked around him to see if people were attending. “This bloody prig will go straight to hell for the wrongs he has done to me.”

“Language, Mr. Wickham!” the vicar said. “Would you have preached God’s word from the pulpit using that same mouth?”

“Please sit down, there is no need for that, Mr. Wickham,” Mr. Gallagher said mildly. “Although it would be a conflict of interest for anyone from my office to assist you, my colleague Mr. Phillips here has agreed to file a legal complaint on your behalf, should he find that you have a fair claim for compensation.”

“I could not afford a lawyer,” Mr. Wickham said. “Thanks to dear Darcy here, I am penniless.”

“I would be happy to work pro bono,” Mr. Phillips said.

“What?”

“It is Latin for free of charge. For a good cause.”

“I am very grateful that you see fit to take up my defense.”

“Should your claims have merit,” Mr. Phillips said.

“I have told nothing but the truth.”

“That is good. But let us first establish what your claims are, exactly.”

“Do we need to do it here?” Mr. Wickham said. “Surely this could wait until a less public affair.”

“No!” somebody said. “Let us all hear it.” It might have been Sir William but there were other murmurs to the same effect. “We have all heard Mr. Wickham’s story and we wish to know more.”

“It seems like there is some general interest in this,” Mr. Goulding said. “All the good people in Meryton side with the truth and the law, and wish to see justice done for you.”

“But surely this is not the time or the place,” Mr. Wickham said.

"Discussing law at a ball may seem unorthodox but I assure you that legal negotiations happen all the time, extra iudicium," Mr. Goulding said.

"What?"

"It means outside of a trial," Mr. Phillips said.

“We could do this at a court session but it would be more time consuming and costly for everyone concerned, even if Mr. Phillips is willing to work pro bono,” Mr. Goulding said. “If we can establish some basic facts now that you two have already assembled in the same room out of your free will, we might be able to mediate the issue of compensation without the costly proceedings."

"Warrants, writs, summonses, all the paperwork,” Mr. Phillips said. "Such a nuisance, Mr. Wickham."

“Ah, but we would not wish to hinder people’s enjoyment of the ball by a legal discussion.”

“Mr. Wickham is speaking of himself,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “The royal we, you understand. But some of us might be perfectly willing to enjoy a legal discussion.”

“You have so many friends here, Wickham,” said Captain Carter. “Some of these people might be persuaded to aid in your case, so is it not good for you to drum up more support?”

“Let us submit the matter to the court of public opinion,” Mr. Goulding said, and raised his voice. “Excuse me, ladies, gentlemen. How many of you have heard about the issues between Mr. Wickham and Mr. Darcy?”

There were only a few who had not.

“How many of you would like to hear more?”

Those who said no to the previous question were perhaps more likely to say yes to this one.

“How many of you would like to see them receive their just deserts?”

There was no one who responded in the negative here. It seemed that those who were likely to side with Mr. Wickham and those who were Mr. Darcy’s friends were all united in their wish to see their just deserts, whatever that might entail.

“Would you be disturbed if we spoke of it now? Would you rather chat about the canapés?”

None declared their desire to discuss hors’d’oeuvres out loud, and Mr. Goulding declared that inquiring into the matter at present time was adequate. Mr. Hurst thought it might be great fun.

"Why did you never think of this, Caroline? We could do away with musicales and make magisterial inquiries all the rage in London," Mr. Hurst said.

He told the harpist that this was a good time for a break. This disconcerted Miss Bingley who had planned an elegant accompaniment for the supper hour and did not think that the harpist had yet earned her pay, but when Mr. Darcy said he was willing to compensate for the musicians’ services, Miss Bingley was quick to reassure him that it was completely unnecessary. It was agreed that the harp would be moved into the card room, and Mr. Bingley said that people could dine there if they were desirous of continuing their unrelated conversations. But very few people chose to move.

“So, there seems to be a lot of interest in your great misfortunes,” said Mr. Goulding. “Perhaps we may proceed now.”

There were murmurs of assent, and Mr. Goulding raised his voice again.

“You state that late Mr. Darcy’s will gave you the living in Kympton and one Fitzwilliam Darcy, his heir, refused to give it to you when it became vacant. Is that correct?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Without fair compensation?”

“I did not receive a penny when the living became vacant,” Mr. Wickham said.

“Is that correct, Mr. Darcy?” Mr. Phillips inquired.

“Yes, that is factual,” Mr. Darcy said, seeming oddly amused. “It is quite true that I did not give him a penny when the living became vacant.”

“And you contend that this was an injustice committed against you, Mr. Wickham,” Mr. Phillips continued.

“Quite right,” Mr. Wickham said. “My godfather wanted me to get the living and the income. I should have been paid.”

“That does seem highly irregular,” Mr. Phillips said.

“Darcy was always jealous of me, because of his father’s affection for me. He wished that I was his son instead.”

“Those kinds of feelings might certainly motivate someone to a petty revenge. But this is speculation, Mr. Wickham, and what we need is proof. Do you have a copy of the will in question?”

“No.”

“Mr. Darcy must have a copy in his possession.”

“Gentlemen, I think I may be able to help you,” Mr. Gallagher said. “For here it is.” He produced a briefcase and got out a thick, official looking document.

“Well, what an amazing stroke of luck for you, Mr. Wickham,” Mr. Phillips said. “What are the odds that someone at a ball would carry legal documents upon their person?”

“Some people find it calming,” Mr. Gallagher said. “I just love the feel of a strong parchment with weighty words on it.”

“Myself, I prefer to carry a ball of string,” Captain Carter said. “It gives the fingers something to occupy them with, and you never know when you need to tie something up.”

“And you, Mr. Wickham? What is it that you prefer to relax with?” Mr. Bennet asked.

“He likes the clacking of the dice,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam. “The serenity and nothingness of all that shake, rattle and roll makes a man so refreshed.”

“Capital,” said Sir William.

“There is nothing like a man who makes his own luck,” Mr. Bennet said.

“One has to, when one’s rights are denied to one,” Mr. Wickham said.

“But what exactly do we know about your rights?” Mr. Goulding asked. “Perhaps we should have a look at the will.”

“As Mr. Gallagher is the most familiar with the document, I think we should let him summarise it for us,” Mr. Phillips said. “If anyone doubts his version we can verify the details by reading it ourselves later.”

The general hubbub quieted further as more and more people grew interested in what was going on. Lady Lucas hushed someone who still talked about the dancing. Most eyes were riveted on the scene.

“This is the last will and testament of George Anthony Darcy of Pemberley, Derbyshire, born on the first of June, year 1759,” Mr. Gallagher said. His voice carried well and he had an authoritative air, like he was presiding over a courtroom.

“It was written, signed, and witnessed in 1804, a couple of years before his death. He opened with a few general remarks about the importance of family and some good thoughts and wishes for the happiness of his children. His son Fitzwilliam Alexander Darcy had recently become of age so George Darcy wanted to update his will to make Fitzwilliam Darcy his sister’s guardian, along with their cousin, Richard Matthew Fitzwilliam.”

“Yours truly,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, and slapped Mr. Wickham on the back. Rather hard, it seemed. “Miss Darcy is a lovely young lady, is she not, George?”

Mr. Wickham flinched and said, “Yes, I hear she is very accomplished.”

“Then there is a detailed listing of Mr. George Darcy’s holdings and investments, including an estate in Derbyshire as well as other properties elsewhere,” Mr. Gallagher continued. “Most of his property he bequeathed to his only son and heir, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, and his only daughter, Miss Georgiana Dorothy Darcy, was to receive a sizeable dowry, on certain conditions. Mr. George Darcy also made a number of minor bequests to relatives, friends, and trusted servants.”

Mr. Gallagher gave the document to Mr. Phillips who skimmed the first few pages and allowed Mr. Gallagher’s summary to be substantially correct.

“As you can see, it is a fairly lengthy document so I will spare you most of the details and skip to the part that is relevant to Mr. Wickham’s claims.”

Mr. Gallagher put some pages aside and started reading

“To my godson, George Wickham, the son of my esteemed steward Ronald Wickham, I leave a thousand pounds that I hope he is able to use prudently. For my friendship with his father, I have supported his education so that one day he might find himself gentlemanly employment. What his preferred path might be, I do not know. The living in Kympton is currently occupied by an excellent man but should it become vacant again, it will be in my son’s purview to choose another worthy occupant. My wish is for George Wickham to be considered for the position, should he choose to take orders and live a financially stable and morally responsible lifestyle suitable for a shepherd of a parish.”

“It seems to me that Mr. George Darcy had some doubts,” Miss Mary said.

“As to that, I could not say,” Mr. Gallagher said. “I have no record of what he thought, only what he wrote.”

“But Mr. Wickham has been shown to be truthful in that the will establishes that the testator wished that he be considered for the Kympton living,” Mr. Phillips said.

“With certain conditions attached,” Mr. Gallagher said.

“Exactly,” Mr. Phillips said. “Now, Mr. Wickham, would you say that you live a financially stable and morally responsible lifestyle suitable for a shepherd of a parish?”

“Well, of course,” Mr. Wickham said. “I have had my share of financial difficulties, thanks to Darcy, but I am a Christian man.”

“Capital, capital,” Sir William approved.

“Unfortunately, whether someone’s lifestyle is financially stable and morally responsible enough to suit a shepherd of a parish is not a concept with a strict legal definition,” Mr. Phillips said apologetically. “We might consider it more of a matter of opinion.”

“Or we might consult the Bible,” Miss Mary Bennet said.

“An excellent idea, Miss Mary,” Mr. Gallagher said. “To that effect, might I ask the vicar to find some recommendations for us? Maybe Mr. Bingley could find the Scriptures for us.”

Mr. Bingley’s library was not well stocked but he was not a complete heathen so a Bible could be located relatively easily, and the vicar was soon able to quote from the epistolary section of the New Testament. He adopted his booming church voice, scaring the last remaining whispering partygoers into quieting themselves, adding emphasis where appropriate. It was not often that he was called to read God’s word at a party so he took full advantage of this opportunity to impress the revellers.

“This is a true saying, if a man desire the office of a bishop, he desireth a good work. A bishop then must be blameless, the husband of one wife, vigilant, sober, of good behaviour, given to hospitality, apt to teach; not given to wine, no striker, not greedy of filthy lucre; but patient, not a brawler, not covetous; one that ruleth well his own house, having his children in subjection with all gravity; (For if a man know not how to rule his own house, how shall he take care of the church of God?) Not a novice, lest being lifted up with pride he fall into the condemnation of the devil. Moreover he must have a good report of them which are without; lest he fall into reproach and the snare of the devil. Likewise must the deacons be grave, not doubletongued, not given to much wine, not greedy of filthy lucre; Holding the mystery of the faith in a pure conscience. And let these also first be proved; then let them use the office of a deacon, being found blameless.”

The vicar stopped. “That was from the first letter to Timothy, third chapter.”

“Thank you,” Mr. Phillips said. “So, in other words, and you may correct me if I am wrong, according to biblical sources, bishops and deacons, and by reasonable extension, those who hold church livings, should preferably be monogamous, with a good reputation. They would take care of their own children and avoid such vices as brawling and greed. Is that a fair summary?”

“Yes, it seems fairly accurate,” nodded the vicar.

“And they should not be doubletongued,” Mr. Gallagher noted.

"Would you show us your tongue, Mr. Wickham?" Mr. Hurst asked.

"I believe that is more figurative," the vicar said.

“What does it mean?”

“I take it to mean they should be honest, not deceitful, saying one thing to one person and another thing to another.”

“Ah, very well, in the legal profession we also like to deal with such people,” Mr. Phillips said.

“And we should also mention that bishops should be sober, not given to wine,” Miss Mary said, and glared at Mr. Wickham who was currently in the process of refilling his glass.

“This is punch,” he said.

“Would you say you fit this definition, Mr. Wickham?” Mr. Phillips asked.

“Well, I have consumed wine on occasion,” Mr. Wickham said. "If any one of us has not they should cast the first stone. But in general, I am extremely vigilant.”

“Excellent,” said Mr. Phillips.

“At the regiment, we like vigilance as well,” Colonel Forster said.

“Had I received the living I would have had the means to marry and to raise children,” Mr. Wickham said. “And to be more given to hospitality. The officers’ quarters are not well suited to that purpose.”

“No, we understand,” said Mr. Phillips. “No one shall hold that against you.”

“What about greed?” Miss Mary asked.

“I do not consider it greed to want my rightful inheritance.”

“No doubt there are many here who would agree,” Mr. Phillips said. “So it is your contention that your character would be suitable for the office of a clergyman.”

“My friends can vouch for me,” Mr. Wickham said.

“That is marvellous,” Mr. Phillips said. “Are any of them here tonight?”

“A lot of men from the regiment are here,” Mr. Wickham said.

“Gentlemen, would you be willing to vouch for Mr. Wickham’s blamelessness and good behaviour, as described in the passage that we just heard?” Mr. Phillips looked at the nearest officers.

There was a long silence.

“Well, he is a decent rider,” Captain Carter finally offered. “Has a good seat.”

“He is a dab hand at piquet,” Mr. Denny volunteered.

“He does not like fish,” Mr. Chamberlayne said. “Sorry, he has not been with us for that long,”

“So there is a lot that you do not know about him,” Mr. Phillips said. “Of course, it does not mean that he is not a good person, it just means that you do not know.”

“Right,” Captain Carter said. “He joined us maybe a month ago.”

“But there must be people who have known you for longer,” Mr. Phillips said. “Maybe some of them could offer their testimony on behalf of your character.”

Mr. Fenton stepped up. “I knew him from my school days.”

“So did I,” said Sir Arthur.

“I first met him when we were all children,” said Lord Hartwell.

“Little George Wickham used to be everywhere at Pemberley,” said Mrs. Reynolds.

“You were such a lovable scamp, George,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said.

“Excellent,” said Mr. Goulding. “What can you tell us about Mr. Wickham?”

“Wait a minute,” said Mr. Wickham. “Friends, relatives and employees of Mr. Darcy can hardly be called impartial witnesses.”

“I am crushed, George,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam. “Devastated - after all these years, you do not consider us friends? How many times did we get caught stealing pies from the kitchen together, you and I? I thought those trials forged a lasting bond between us.” He shrugged. “But I might be mistaken.”

“On my part, Wickham and I were quite friendly for many years,” said Mr. Fenton. “We met at Eton and were roommates at Cambridge for a while. He was the brains behind several great pranks,” he said.

“Brains,” Mr. Bennet said.

“Brains,” said Mr. Hurst. “Brains are good. I think.”

“What kind of pranks?” asked Mr. Goulding.

“Oh, all in good fun,” said Mr. Fenton. “Well, mostly.”

“Mostly?” said Mr. Goulding.

“There might have been some escapades that we should have thought better of.”

“You got caught?” inquired Colonel Fitzwilliam.

“Well, yes,” said Mr. Fenton.

“It does sound like you shared some close camaraderie with Mr. Wickham,” said Mr. Phillips.

“Yes, we were great friends,” Mr. Fenton said. “Although our association suffered a slight setback when he sold me a lame horse.”

“A lame horse?” Mr. Phillips asked.

“Oh yes, a wonderful chestnut mare,” Mr. Fenton said. “Very good gait, a great traveller. It could both do a fast sprint and endure a longer journey. I had been trying to get Wickham to sell it for me for ages, but he would not give it up. I was overjoyed when one day he suddenly wrote that he was willing to consider my offer if I gave him one of my grays in exchange, and we agreed to a trade. But he did not tell me that the mare had gone lame.”

“I thought it was a temporary problem,” said Mr. Wickham.

“Yes, well, it was not,” said Mr. Fenton. “I got one promising foal out of it, but no one ever rode that mare again.”

“So, given a chance, would you buy another horse from Mr. Wickham?” Colonel Fitzwilliam asked.

“Not by a letter, in any case,” said Mr. Fenton. “I have learned my lesson.”

"Caveat emptor," said Mr. Goulding.

"It means that the cave is empty," explained Mr. Hurst helpfully.

“I do not currently have a horse to sell,” said Mr. Wickham. He got up from his chair and left the room, murmuring something about refreshing himself. Given the amount of liquid courage he had consumed, he may very well have had a real pressing need to go but if he had a thought about not returning to the room the four armed officers who escorted him must have put it out of his head.

Chapter Text

While Mr. Wickham and the entourage of military heroes were away from the supper room, lots of people took the opportunity to mill about and refill their plates. Footmen that Miss Elizabeth had never seen at Netherfield before collected used plates and replaced empty serving dishes with new ones. The previous events were discussed and several people said that Mr. Wickham seemed too smoky by half to be a clergyman. Mr. Hurst praised the pastries, saying they were the best he had ever had. Sir William agreed that they were capital.

Miss Mary Bennet was whispering with the vicar. Mr. Gallagher conferred with Mr. Phillips, and Mr. Goulding about something before returning to Miss Lucas. Mrs. Bennet spoke with Lord Hartwell, too quietly for Miss Elizabeth to hear.

“I did not expect to see your cousin escorting my mother to supper,” she said.

“As he does not dance, Hartwell often makes the acquaintance of matrons at balls,” Mr. Darcy said. “But he particularly wanted to meet your family.”

“Oh, why is that?” she asked.

He just looked at her, expressively, and then said, “Why do you think?” She could think of no reply, which was just as well as Miss Bingley came to them at that point, apologizing profusely to Mr. Darcy. She was appalled that dear Mr. Darcy had been subjected to such vulgar accusations at a party that she had organized, and offered him a seat at her table if he wanted better company.

“A steward’s son!” Miss Bingley said, as if it explained everything, and promised to have him escorted out at the first opportunity.

“Oh no, please do not do that,” Mr. Darcy said. “He will be taken care of. And I chose our seats on purpose.”

“They have great seats in close proximity to the drinks table,” said Mr. Hurst.

Besides Mr. Wickham’s ancestry, Miss Bingley was inclined to blame the incident entirely on Mr. Phillips. “Of course, your uncle would take that man’s side,” she said, and glared at Miss Elizabeth menacingly. “How anyone could even think about taking up a case against a gentleman such as Mr. Darcy is quite beyond me.”

“To be more exact, he said he would take it if Mr. Wickham’s claims have merit,” Miss Elizabeth noted.

Miss Bingley knew that they would not, simply because Mr. Darcy could do no wrong.

“I thank you for your unquestioning faith in me,” said Mr. Darcy, “but I am not opposed to showing my credentials.”

“Who in their right mind would question Mr. Darcy of Pemberley?” Miss Bingley asked.

“In my opinion, people in their right mind will question everything,” said Mr. Darcy. “Trust is worth more if it is given because I have been found trustworthy, and not just because I own a pretty nice house.”

“Most of us here have never seen your house,” Miss Elizabeth mused. “Do we really know that it exists? It might be merely a myth.”

“I shall put that on my list of things that I need to prove forthwith,” said Mr. Darcy. “I would not relish being homeless.”

Lots of people were talking about Mr. Wickham but these voices were silenced when Mr. Wickham and the other officers returned. Colonel Fitzwilliam had his arm around Mr. Wickham’s shoulders and seemed to be steering him towards their table, chattering incessantly. When Mr. Wickham stumbled the Colonel grabbed Wickham’s sword with his other hand.

“Careful there, George,” he said. “If you live like a clod you will fall like a clod. Looking at you, I am starting to believe that humankind has survived this long only due to blind luck.“

“There is nothing wrong with me,” said Mr. Wickham.

“Right, it must be the floor that made you stumble,” the Colonel said cheerfully. “It looks even but looks can be deceiving.”

Despite the perilous floor, they were able to reseat themselves without further incident. Out of the line of Mr. Wickham’s sight, Sir William was gesturing that people should be quiet. Those who saw him stopped talking right away, those who did not reacted a little slower, but eventually a hush descended over the room.

“Say, Mr. Wickham, if a career in the church is what you desire, might you be interested in another post?” asked the vicar. “I know of no vacant livings nearby at the moment, but someone I know is looking for a curate to help in his parish.”

“Well, as to that,” said Mr. Wickham, “I am currently occupied at the regiment.”

“It is a worthy pursuit as well,” said the vicar. “But the Church of England could always use a good man to lead its flock in prayer, and your theological learning would not go to waste. If Mr. Darcy does not see fit to give you the living in his purview, you could always find another.”

“The living in Kympton is currently not mine to give as it is not vacant,” Mr. Darcy said.

“In that case, Mr. Wickham, your best course of action would be to distinguish yourself as a curate so you may attract the notice of another person who has a living to bestow.”

“Well, as to that,” said Mr. Wickham. “There might be slight difficulty.”

“He has not been ordained,” Colonel Fitzwilliam explained.

“If Darcy gave me the living I would have been.”

“Oh but surely it is not too late,” said the vicar. “You are rather old to be just starting out but the ordination is a mere formality. All the hard work has already been done, and all that remains is for your bishop to recognize that you have done it.”

“Oh, this ought to be good,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “George just loves hard work, he could watch it all day.”

“What do you need to do, in order to be ordained?” Mr. Gallagher asked.

“First, you need an honours degree from Oxford,” the vicar said. “Cambridge will do in a pinch, but only if properly educated Oxford men are not available.”

“Those are fighting words, sir,” Colonel Forster said.

“Will you not defend your alma mater, George?” Colonel Fitzwilliam asked.

“Oh certainly, one may receive an excellent education at Cambridge,” Mr. Wickham said.

“Your honours degree was from Cambridge, was it?” Colonel Forster asked.

“Yes sir, I am a Cambridge man, sir. That is where I studied, sir,” Mr. Wickham said.

“Is there something else you would need to do in order to be ordained, Mr. Wickham?” Mr. Phillips asked.

“Uh, I think,” Mr. Wickham said. “Yes, I mean… I think that…” He trailed off.

“Of course you know this, but you would need a letter from your college, vouching for your fitness to serve the church,” the vicar said.

“Yes, exactly,” Mr. Wickham said quickly. “A letter would be just the thing.”

“So, I surmise that you do not currently have one?” the vicar asked. “I would suggest you take steps to request such a letter right away. These things take their time and if you wish to be ordained at your age you have little time to lose.”

“Right,” Mr. Wickham said. “That is why I thought a career in the militia would suit me.”

“But if your lifelong dream was to serve in the Church do you wish to squander your education teaching privates to forward march?” the vicar asked. “No offense intended,” he said then, looking at the men from the regiment.

“None taken,” Colonel Forster assured him.

“We need the militia and it is an important job, but your theological knowledge will be of no use there, Mr. Wickham,” the vicar said. “Churches may be drafty but there is less mud than on a training field. You would be much better off taking the bishop’s examination and finding a parish to shepherd.”

“Yes, the bishop’s examination,” Mr. Wickham said. “I am looking very much forward to my bishop’s examination.”

“What were you asked in your own examination?” Mr. Phillips asked the vicar. “Mr. Wickham might feel reassured if you gave us a better idea of what happens there.”

“Well, really there was no reason to fear,” the vicar said. “I was told that the bishop is very strict and demanding but he was quite friendly. He greeted me in Latin and we had a little conversation in that language. Then I was asked to translate some written texts.”

“Oh, that is wonderful,” Mr. Wickham said.

“There is no need to be nervous,” the vicar said. “It would be no problem with anyone with a reasonable level of competence in Latin.”

“Right, then it will be absolutely no problem. We have already established that George here is fluent in Latin, haven’t we?” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “What does caveat emptor mean, George?”

“Uh,” Mr. Wickham said. “The cave is empty?”

“Yes, very good, George, that is absolutely correct,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “It is just like the great bard said: to thine own self be true, and keep thyself perfectly mediocre.”

“Was that it?” Mr. Phillips asked. “Was there something else in the bishop’s examination?”

“Yes, I was expected to explain the Nicene creed and a number of Cranmer’s 39 articles,” the vicar said. “He was particularly interested about the supererogation of works, the works before justification, and the predestination to life.”

“How would you respond, Mr. Wickham?” Mr. Phillips inquired.

“Yes, well,” Mr. Wickham said. “The supererogation of works is quite, um, superb.”

“It is a simple concept,” the vicar said. “If one does voluntary works above and beyond the duties given to us in the Ten Commandments one should not invite arrogance and impiety thinking that it gives any extra holiness as a servant of God.”

“Oh, surely George is in no danger of that,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said and slapped Mr. Wickham’s back. “You would never go above and beyond, would you?”

“Then the bishop wanted to discuss selected homilies,” the vicar said. “We spoke of perjury, drunkenness, and fornication, among other things.”

“Absolutely no problem for old George here,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, and slapped Mr. Wickham again. “You know all about perjury, drunkenness and fornication, do you not?”

“Yes,” Mr. Wickham said. “I am familiar with the concepts.”

“Was there anything else?” Mr. Phillips asked, looking at the vicar.

“I was asked to demonstrate my familiarity with the scriptures,” the vicar said. “The bishop read some passages and I was expected to tell him how they continue, or what preceded them, or to find them in my own Bible as quickly as possible. And he wanted to see my Bible and if it had any underlinings or margin notes. He said he could tell by the wear and tear that the book was well used.”

“How is your Bible, Mr. Wickham?” Colonel Forster asked. “Perhaps you could read it to us all tomorrow, at the regiment.”

“Yes, well, sir,” Mr. Wickham said. “As to that, sir, my Bible is not here, sir.”

“You did not bring your Bible with you when you signed up for a commission?”

“No, sir, I was not able to pack all my belongings, sir,” Mr. Wickham said. “I needed to travel light, sir.”

“Indeed, the Bible does contain many weighty words,” the vicar said. “So does the Common Book of Prayer. The bishop wanted to see my copy of that book as well, and once he had checked which edition I had in my possession he asked if I had ever noticed any typographical errors in it.”

“And had you?” Mr. Phillips asked.

“Yes, one psalm was incorrectly rendered as PASL.,” the vicar said. “Number 25, I think.”

“I think you should do it, George,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, and slapped Mr. Wickham’s back. “It would be a lot of fun to talk about typographical errors, and you could teach the bishop a thing or two about drunkenness and fornication.”

“For a learned man, the examination will pose no obstacle,” the vicar said. “I do believe that different bishops may have a different approach to the examination but a diligent student who has prepared well could expect to pass with no excessive hardship.”

“That’s our George,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam and slapped Mr. Wickham’s back again. “George is very learned, isn’t he? The picture of diligence, and always prepared.”

“We are still talking about Wickham?” Mr. Fenton asked. “George Wickham? The picture of diligence?” He laughed. Then he laughed some more. “Colonel, you are a very funny man.”

“Sir Arthur, you went to school with Mr. Wickham as well,” Mr. Phillips said. “Would you describe him as a diligent student?”

“No, perhaps not. Not in as many words,” Sir Arthur said. “He had many other pursuits that he was invested in.”

“Ah, a man of varied interests,” Mr. Phillips said. “It is good to have a well-rounded character, not too single-minded.”

“Exactly,” said Mr. Wickham.

“At Eton, he put ants in a tutor’s bed and blamed someone else,” Sir Arthur said.

“That is pure slander,” Mr. Wickham said. “You have no proof that I had anything to do with it.”

“It was a great prank,” Mr. Fenton said.

“Well, it is all water under the bridge now, regardless,” Mr. Goulding said. “It is a long time since any of us were at Eton.”

“But what can you tell us about your current financial situation, Mr. Wickham?” Mr. Phillips asked. “As we heard earlier, Mr. George Darcy’s will implied that he wanted a financially stable individual to head his parish.”

“Well, I have had some difficulty,” Mr. Wickham said. “But it would be all set to rights if Darcy compensated me fairly for the living I did not receive.”

“Would you say that you are in debt?” Mr. Phillips asked.

“It is nothing that I cannot handle,” Mr. Wickham said. “All of us have bought something on credit every once in a while.”

“That is very true, Mr. Wickham,” Mr. Phillips said. “That reminds me of a modiste’s bill that I need to pay. Readying wives for a ball is not cheap, is it?”

“When are you going to pay the two shillings I won on Tuesday, Wickham?” asked Mr. Chamberlayne.

“The soonest that I am able to,” said Mr. Wickham. “Denny owes me two shillings in turn, you know.”

“Right,” said Mr. Denny, and went digging in his pockets. “Oh great, as it happens I have two shillings right here.”

Mr. Wickham reached out his hand in order to take the money. But Mr. Denny would not let him have it. “Tell you what, I shall just give it to Chamberlayne, and we can call it even.”

“Excellent,” said Mr. Phillips. “So you have fewer financial encumbrances than you had at the start of this ball. Not many of us could say the same.”

“Capital, capital,” said Sir William. “Oh, that reminds me,” he then said, and pulled a letter out of his pocket. “You might wish to reserve some of your capital to pay what you owe at the inn.”

He showed the document to Colonel Forster and then gave it to another, to circulate it among the guests. “The merchants of Meryton did a tally of all the debts that the good men of the regiment have accumulated here, and Mr. Wickham is certainly a most diligent shopper, given his brief residence here.”

“Now, wait a minute,” protested Mr. Wickham.

“George, my boy,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, and slapped him on the back. “You are worth it, George. Never let anyone tell you that you are not worth,” he paused and read the document, “two pairs of boots of the best quality, three boxes of beeswax candles, several pies and pastries, and three bottles of wine.”

“You are entirely in the right, Mr. Wickham, beeswax is the best,” said Mr. Phillips. “I hate tallow, it always smokes and gutters.”

“But hold on,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, still reading. “Three bottles of wine in a single night?" He shook his head sadly. "George, you are getting old and losing your touch, you used to be able to drink four.”

“Incidentally, as we are on the topic of debts,” said Mr. Gallagher, “here is the accounting for some of Mr. Wickham’s debts that Mr. Darcy paid for, in Derbyshire, Cambridge, and Ramsgate.” He allowed that document to circulate as well.

“What a coincidence that you happened to bring that with you to this ball,” Mr. Phillips said.

“I told you earlier that legal documentation calms me down,” Mr. Gallagher said apologetically. “I am afraid that I tend to be very fidgety and need a lot of calming influences.”

The vicar took a look at the accounting and said, “Perhaps the church is not an ideal choice for your lifestyle after all, Mr. Wickham. Supposing you held a living that gives you, say, two hundred pounds per annum, it would take you a very long time to pay this back, and you might consider looking for more lucrative employment.”

“George, you would make a very stylish highwayman,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, and slapped Mr. Wickham on the back.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Mr. Wickham murmured, and made to rise. But Colonel Fitzwilliam and Captain Carter were both there, with hands on his shoulders.

“Sit down, Mr. Wickham,” said Captain Carter, and he did. Two footmen stood in front of the doors, effectively barring them. They looked rather rough and not as elegant as people would have expected Miss Bingley’s hires to be.

“If I am in debt, it is only because Mr. Darcy did not give me my rightful inheritance,” Mr. Wickham said, and gestured at the audience beseechingly. “If I had the income of the living I would be able to plan my finances accordingly.”

“That is right, George,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam. “Whenever things are not going your way, blame Darcy. It is a good strategy, it works for me too. People will believe anything about the tall, quiet fellow with the dark brow and the frown.”

“Mr. Wickham, is there something that prevents you from planning your finances now?” Mr. Bennet asked.

“I would be quite happy if you could just make Mr. Darcy pay me fair compensation for the living,” Mr. Wickham said, addressing Mr. Goulding. “I did not receive anything when the living became vacant, and considering my godfather’s wishes, I think two or three thousand would be quite reasonable.”

“As to that, Mr. Wickham,” Mr. Gallagher said. “I can corroborate that you received nothing when the living became vacant. But this document is the receipt for the three thousand pounds that you had received earlier, when you signed a document declaring that you did not want the living, would prefer to be compensated in a more immediate financial form, and resigned all your claims to it.”

This too circulated among the crowd.

“I was not in possession of all the facts at the time,” Mr. Wickham said. “I was in expectation that there would be no vacancy until much later.”

Mr. Bennet stroked the parchment. “You are right, Mr. Gallagher. This parchment is of excellent quality, sturdy but fine, and being in touch with it has a very beneficial, soothing effect.”

“I am a firm proponent of the written word and any instruments to preserve it,” said Mr. Gallagher. “To that effect, this is the receipt that Mr. Wickham signed when he got a thousand pounds that Mr. George Darcy had left him in his will.”

“You have four thousand pounds?” Mr. Fenton asked. “Then you can bloody well afford to pay me back for the lame mare.”

“We can talk about this later, my friend,” Mr. Wickham said.

“You told us that you had been left practically destitute by Mr. Darcy,” said Mr. Denny.

“Anyway,” said Mr. Wickham, louder. “I do think that as the living became vacant so soon it would be fair to respect my godfather’s wishes and allow me to have financial compensation, given that I was not considered for the position as he would have wanted.”

“Yes, Mr. Wickham,” said Mr. Gallagher. “Here are some letters sent to Mr. Darcy by you, stating similar wishes, in increasingly abusive and threatening terms.”

“Oh, bad boy, George, bad boy, no cheese for you!” said Colonel Fitzwilliam. “I can’t believe that you would stoop to making threats, old man. I know bribery is quite beyond your touch, but don’t you know that flattery is the way to go? If you told Darcy that he is the most gentlemanly and honourable man you know he would do anything you ask.”

“Actually, Mr. Wickham, in George Darcy's will you were recommended for the living only conditionally,” said Mr. Gallagher. “It was contingent upon being ordained and having a financially stable and a morally responsible lifestyle.”

“You might gain financial stability if you meditated upon the matter, and chose to become the wealth you seek,” Colonel Fitzwilliam suggested.

Mr. Wickham ignored him and said, “If I received the living I could be ordained as a matter of formality.”

“Well, as to that, Mr. Wickham,” Mr. Gallagher said, and reached for another of his calming documents. “This letter is a response to our letter inquiring whether anyone at the University of Cambridge would recommend you to a clergyman’s office. The Chancellor’s office wrote back saying that they had no record of anyone named George Wickham ever graduating, let alone with honours. They had had a brief acquaintance with a student of that name but he had been subject to some disciplinary actions, for undisclosed reasons, and would not be the first person they would suspect of desiring to do the Lord’s work.”

“It is a common name,” said Mr. Wickham.

“For good measure, here is a letter from Oxford,” Mr. Gallagher said. “They state that no George Wickham has been enrolled as a student recently but that if it is the same George Wickham who once got thrown out of the Red Lion after a famous bar fight neither he or the friends he was with are welcome back in that tavern.”

“It was not our fault,” said Mr. Fenton. “The other group started it.”

“Here are some letters from bishops, all saying that they knew nothing of anybody recommending Mr. George Wickham for an ordination,” Mr. Gallagher said. “Canterbury, London, Derby, St. Albans… We did not hear back from all the bishops, unfortunately. But perhaps Mr. Wickham is aware of another bishop that we need to contact again because they would give a different answer.”

“Did you receive a response from the bishop of Brighton?” Mr. Wickham ventured.

“No, and we are not likely to ever receive any, I am afraid,” Mr. Gallagher said. “I do not believe that there is a bishop of Brighton, Mr. Wickham.”

“Brighton up, George,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, and slapped Mr. Wickham on the back. “Do not lose hope. Someday soon, science might be able to make a smart man out of you.”

“Mr. Wickham, would it be fair to say that your ordination is not in the cards in the immediately foreseeable future?” Mr. Goulding asked.

“I have chosen an alternative career path, as a lieutenant in the -shire militia,” Mr. Wickham said. “I shall always strive to serve my king and my country as best I can, sir.”

“One man’s trash is another man’s best, or something to that effect,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said.

“We all wish you success in your military endeavours, defending England and all that we hold dear,” Mr. Goulding said. “But it seems to me that perhaps Mr. Darcy was not completely unreasonable in denying you further compensation for a position that you had already been compensated for, even though you were in no way qualified to hold it, and I do not believe that you would be likely to prevail should you go to court for more.”

“He used dishonest tricks and arguments to get me to sign off my claims to the living,” Mr. Wickham said. “I did it under pressure and it should not count. I would have obtained an ordination otherwise.”

“Perhaps you can pay me back the three thousand pounds and we can tear this document up,” Mr. Darcy said. “Well, if you come with scissors we might cut it up. Mr. Gallagher is right, this is very durable parchment.” He had attempted, and failed, to tear the corner off.

“When you return with a honours degree and an ordination we can talk about your financial stability and moral responsibility again.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Wickham.

“Do not say yes, George,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, “say I wish.”

“We all wish that you were morally responsible, Mr. Wickham,” said Mrs. Reynolds. “Then you might support the children you left behind at Pemberley.”

“I have no children at Pemberley or elsewhere,” said Mr. Wickham.

“Their mothers beg to differ,” said Mrs. Reynolds. “But perhaps these good people may judge for themselves. This is Lady Anne Darcy’s sketchbook. Here is a portrait she drew of young George Wickham, aged three.” She had brought two sketchbooks and opened the other. “This is Miss Darcy’s rendering of Tom, aged three, and Michael, aged four, both children of former maids at Pemberley.”

“They look remarkably like Mr. Wickham did at that age,” said Lady Lucas.

“Artistic licence,” said Mr. Wickham. “Miss Darcy never had much talent drawing portraits.”

“Again, perhaps the good people here wish to judge for themselves,” said Mrs. Reynolds, and showed them other pages in Miss Darcy’s sketchbook.

Everyone sighed in awe of a very naturalistic picture of Colonel Fitzwilliam. They also saw a drawing they could easily recognize as Lord Hartwell, and another one of Mrs. Reynolds. Then Mrs. Reynolds turned the page again.

“Mr. Darcy!” Miss Elizabeth Bennet exclaimed. It was an excellent likeness of the man himself, with a lovely little smile on his face. The smiles he bore in the portrait and in real life matched perfectly.

“In my opinion, my sister is quite a talented artist,” Mr. Darcy said. “But of course I may be biased.”

“Miss Darcy is very accomplished,” Miss Bingley said.

“Miss Darcy is the sweetest and the most talented young lady you could wish to meet,” said Mrs. Reynolds. “And her brother is a great man who has always been far kinder to Mr. Wickham than he deserves. Little George Wickham was always trouble, even as a child.”

“She is in Darcy’s employ,” Mr. Wickham noted. “She is obligated to say good things about the family, and she knows that the man who pays her wages hates me.”

“If lots of people hate you, perhaps you should ask yourself why that is,” replied Mrs. Reynolds. “I say no more than the truth, and what everybody will say that knows him. I have never had a cross word from him in my life, and I have known him ever since he was four years old.”

“Really,” Mr. Wickham said sarcastically. “I find that very hard to believe.”

“Granted, he had quite the mouth on him that one time when he found out about you bothering those maids,” Mrs. Reynolds said. “When he threw you out of Pemberley and told you never to return. I was very shocked that he knew all those words. Not that you did not deserve all of them, and worse.”

“Darcy has always been jealous of me,” Mr. Wickham said.

“You cannot be serious,” Mrs. Reynolds exclaimed. “Why would he be jealous of you, of all people? He is more intelligent, more good-natured, and more handsome than you. He has noble relations and his pockets are not to let, unlike yours. He is a good man who wants to do the right thing but if you even knew what the right thing was, you would sell it out. As a child he was always stronger, faster and a better rider than you, even though he was younger. His parents doted on him whereas yours attempted to shunt you off to the Darcys to raise. I have known you nearly all your life, and it was always your petty jealousy that got you in trouble.”

“Darcy is a bloody prig that does not deserve any of his good fortune! He is a judgmental stick in the mud, always standing there holier than thou, not having a single word of kindness to share with anyone, and being master of Pemberley is the only reason anybody ever liked him at all!”

“I thank you for your opinion,” Mr. Darcy said.

“It is all your fault I am sure! You have brought in all these people to say bad things about me, and no one at all who has a single nice thing to tell.”

“I am sorry for the oversight,” Mr. Darcy said. “If you are kind enough to furnish us with the names and addresses of those individuals who are likely to say nice things about you we shall contact them forthwith. It is hardly my fault if those people are few and far between.”

“Before you mock me further, Darcy, it might be wise for you to remember the tales I could tell about the depravities in your own family,” Mr. Wickham said.

“George, my friend,” Colonel Fitzwilliam scoffed, “you must improve your game a great deal. My indiscretions are not a secret to anyone who knows me, and this is in no way an effective threat.”

“I am of course talking about his sister,” Mr. Wickham said.

“Dear Georgiana,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “How old was she when you were last allowed at Pemberley? She is fifteen now, and the things that you don’t know about her must fill several books.”

“I have seen her afterwards, in Ramsgate,” Mr. Wickham said. “I was great friends with her companion, Mrs. Younge.”

“Oh, would that be the same Mrs. Younge that we had to fire because she forged her recommendation letter?” Mr. Darcy asked. He looked around himself and shrugged apologetically. “Not one of my best decisions, hiring her.”

“These things happen,” Lady Lucas said.

“Nowadays she runs a disreputable boarding house in London. Of course you would be friends with such a suspect character, Wickham. Why would I even be surprised?”

“Did you by any chance help her forge her references, George?” Colonel Fitzwilliam asked. “As I recall you were quite good at counterfeiting permission slips at Eton.”

“The point is, I met Georgiana in Ramsgate, we got engaged, and she promised to elope with me,” Mr. Wickham said.

“Dream on, George,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “Dreaming broadens the mind and helps you die with a smile on your face.”

“Oh, you are married?” Colonel Forster asked. “But where is your wife now? I thought you told me that you require a bachelor’s quarters.”

“I am not married, because Darcy ruined it, cruelly breaking her heart…” Mr. Wickham started explaining.

But Mrs. Bennet scoffed and interrupted him. “This man is making it up. Why on earth would Mr. Darcy’s sister wish to elope with you, Mr. Wickham?” She had been reading George Darcy’s will, and waved it around now. “According to her father's will, Miss Darcy has a dowry of thirty thousand pounds! If she has a face on her she could have a brilliant season and be the toast of the town. There is no way that she is going to marry a steward’s son, and a penniless rogue at that!”

“Oh, if I had a dowry of thirty thousand pounds, I would never look at Mr. Wickham twice, I could do much better,” Miss Maria Lucas exclaimed.

“You could do much better than Wickham, in any case,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “Sorry, Miss, we were not introduced and I do not know you at all, but I know Wickham, and therefore I know you can do better than him.”

“It seems that everybody can,” said Miss Penelope Harrington.

“If I had a dowry of thirty thousand pounds I would not even wish to get married,” Miss Mary said. “Why, to give all that money away, to some worthless bounder to squander?”

“I am not a worthless bounder,” Mr. Wickham said.

“Be that how it may, you would be a penniless husband. You would not have seen a penny of Miss Darcy’s dowry unless you married with her guardians’ consent,” Mrs. Bennet said. “It seems that Mr. George Darcy made some stipulations.”

“So, we congratulate you for not marrying then,” Mr. Bennet said. “You would not have two pennies to rub together and how would you make pretty penny babies then?”

“Miss Darcy is much too intelligent to dally with this person,” Miss Bingley said. “She is very accomplished, and the most genteel young lady that one is ever likely to meet.”

“We dallied, and more!” Mr. Wickham said. “I could tell you about the time we…”

“Never mind about that, Mr. Wickham. We all understand that after abusing Mr. Darcy so abominably to his face you could have no scruples slandering his sister,” Miss Elizabeth said.

“Say, Wickham, what do you know about burrs?” inquired Lord Hartwell inconsequentially. “Where would you find them at Pemberley?”

“You cannot prove anything!” Mr. Wickham appeared to be in considerable distress, although it was unclear how the flora of Pemberley was related to the cause.

“We have proven something else, I think,” Mr. Goulding said thoughtfully, after a while when it became obvious that no explanation was forthcoming. “It seems certain that you told me several falsehoods when you related your version of Mr. Darcy’s wrongdoings and your own great misfortunes.”

“It is not a crime to lie to a magistrate,” Mr. Wickham said.

“You were not under oath at the time,” Mr. Phillips said.

“I still am not,” Mr. Wickham said.

“Right,” Mr. Goulding said. “I cannot have you sued for lying to me, although Mr. Darcy might have cause to accuse you of slander.”

“This is not a trial and these witnesses are all under the influence,” said Mr. Wickham. “This was not fair as I did not expect the Spanish inquisition.”

“Nobody expects the Spanish inquisition,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said.

“Nobody expects a pleasant dinner conversation,” Mr. Bennet said. “Although this was more interesting than most.”

“Anyway, things that are true are not slander,” Mr. Wickham argued. “Nobody can deny that Darcy is a stick in the mud.”

“Well, that is a matter of opinion,” Mr. Goulding said. “But I would not sue you for calling anyone a stick in the mud.”

“Right,” Mr. Wickham said. “I should just go then.” He got up to leave, but suddenly there were four armed officers with swords pointed at him. Mr. Wickham attempted to grab his, but somehow he did not have it anymore.

“Sit down, George,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, and slapped him on the back. Very hard. “You are right, though," he said. "It is not a crime to call Darcy a stick in the mud, only heaven knows how many times I have done it.”

“However, it is not a good idea to lie to your commanding officer,” Colonel Forster said.

And he produced yet more documents. “This is a letter signed by you, is it not? Is it by your own hand? It looks like the same handwriting that we saw earlier in those abusive letters directed at Mr. Darcy.”

Mr. Phillips took a look and said the handwriting looked similar.

“But the quality of the paper is inferior and not very reassuring,” said Mr. Gallagher.

“In this letter, you asked to be considered for a commission and told me that you have studied theology and law at Cambridge, implying that you got a degree,” Colonel Forster said. “You also wrote that you are in expectation of getting a living in Derbyshire but it is taking longer than you hoped for.”

“Well, it is not my fault if you misunderstood, sir,” Mr. Wickham said.

“This is the document that you signed when you accepted your commission with us,” Colonel Forster said.

Mr. Gallagher approved of the material.

“Did you read it in its entirety? Over here, it says that you hereby declare that all the information you have supplied to your commanding officer in the past is correct, to the best of your knowledge, and any future communications will be truthful, to the best of your knowledge.”

“I cannot see how a degree from Cambridge would help in the lieutenant’s duties at all,” Mr. Wickham said.

“As an Oxford man, I would have to agree,” the vicar said.

“The material point is that knowingly lying to your commanding officer is a punishable offence,” Captain Carter said. “And you have lied several times tonight, I would think.”

“Apropos of nothing, how many people here have ever been flogged?” Colonel Forster asked.

“In charge is as in charge does,” Colonel Fitzwilliam approved.

Had anyone admitted to having experience of flogging, Mr. Wickham might have been comforted that they lived to tell the tale at a ball, but unfortunately this was not the case.

Captain Carter’s ball of string was put to good use, tying Mr. Wickham’s hands and feet. The officers were needed as dance partners, so the footmen with a rough appearance were assigned to guard him in a side room. It turned out that they were from Colonel Fitzwilliam’s regiment and this was their first time working as footmen. They did not believe that Miss Bingley would hire them again.

“Goodness, George,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “You are probably cursed. You spit on a leper once, and he hates you now, and he has doomed you and all of your offspring to all eternity.”

Chapter Text

Miss Bingley got her wish, and her ball would be the event that all Hertfordshire would talk about for years to come. If it was mostly due to the spectacle of the arrest and not to the elegance of her arrangements it was certainly not her fault. There was a viscount in attendance, and the meal had been very refined.

After the supper, dancing was supposed to be the order of the day but a lot of people felt it would be anticlimactic after the fascinating conversations they had had at supper. So there were a number of guests who chose to continue their discussions, and surely it was much more rational than pointless prancing around the room would have been.

The harpist played in the card room, but being in an amorous mood, Miss Bennet and Mr. Bingley were probably the only ones paying attention to her romantic melodies. Everyone else was still busy talking about Mr. Wickham and his dastardly acts.

Mrs. Goulding and Mrs. Long had not been able to hear every word of the conversation from their seats so they wanted Sir William and Mr. Phillips to explain everything they missed in great detail again. It was a subject of such great excitement that Mrs. Goulding had not mentioned her aches once, and Mrs. Long was positively giddy with elation and not at all sleepy although it was getting late.

Mrs. Phillips had not thought to bring her reading glasses to a ball so she asked Mr. Bennet to read some of the documents to her aloud. Lady Lucas was relieved that Mr. Wickham had been taken care of and felt able to relax in her strict supervision of her daughters.

Miss Long, Miss Penelope and Miss Maria were delighted that they had finally seen a proper gothic villain properly trussed up in front of their own eyes.

“It was like a play on stage! All those swords!” Miss Penelope said.

“How clever of Captain Carter to bring that string!” Miss Maria said.

“And to think that Mr. Wickham wanted to be a clergyman!” Miss Long said. “Such a glib liar!”

“I doubt that he wanted it very much,” Miss Lucas said. “The income would have been convenient, but far too much work.”

“If he was a clergyman, no one would suspect him of the murder,” Miss Maria said darkly.

“The only way that man could get ordained was if he bribed someone to take the bishop’s examination for him,” the vicar said. “Some of the bishops pass nearly everyone who asks but even they must notice that Mr. Wickham knows nothing of the church, and would evade his way through all the difficult questions.”

“Imagine this,” said Miss Penelope. “The bishop is dead but he sits propped up in a high-backed chair, and the room is dark, so no one has noticed yet.”

“Mr. Wickham asks and answers all the questions himself, and signs off on his own ordination,” said Miss Long.

“Then he grabs the dead bishop’s spare dark robes and goes off on a murder spree,” said Miss Maria.

“That escalated quickly,” said Miss Lucas.

“Maybe there is such a thing as too many fantastical novels,” said Miss Elizabeth.

“Mr. Wickham could not go on a murder spree because he would not survive a day working as a curate,” the vicar said. “Or a deacon, for that matter. He did not even seem to know that you have to serve as a deacon for a more experienced priest before you can be in full charge of a parish.”

“He seemed well qualified for finishing the communion wine,” said Miss Mary.

“And he claims to have gone to school but speaks not a lick of Latin!” the vicar said. “What do they teach you at Eton and Cambridge, I wonder.”

“He knows the word stupid,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “Stupid is a Latin word.”

“This incident proves why Oxford is better than Cambridge,” the vicar said. “Mr. Wickham would never have been able to enroll as a student at Oxford. They have standards at Oxford.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam was introduced to everyone he had not properly met before, and then he was subjected to an intense, rapid interrogation.

“What happened to Mr. Wickham’s four thousand pounds?”

“Why does he need so many candles?”

“Was he always such a terrible person?”

“How did they get the ants out of the bed?”

“Has he ever murdered anybody in a duel?”

Colonel Fitzwilliam was fairly certain most of the money had funded luxuries, gambling, and things that he should not mention in present company. He believed that the mattress had been replaced but the ultimate fate of the ants was unknown. As for candles, their guesses were as good as his. Wickham had been a rather sneaky child but the Colonel was not aware of any duels.

“I do not believe he would have the nerve to look anybody in the eye and shoot them,” he said. “He is more fond of backstabbing.”

“Where did his sword go?” Miss Maria Lucas asked. “I was sure he had it, but then he had not.”

“The thing is, nobody pays attention to footmen while they are busy lying and getting slapped,” the Colonel said.

Mrs. Bennet cornered Miss Elizabeth. “What exactly is going on with you and Mr. Darcy?” she asked.

“We danced the supper dance together,” she said.

“And the first,” Mrs. Bennet said.

“He was kind enough to rescue me from having to dance the first with Mr. Wickham,” Miss Elizabeth said.

“I do not suppose he minded,” Mrs. Bennet said. “Lizzie, you are a clever girl, and I really hope that you are clever enough to forget all about your previous dislike of Mr. Darcy.”

“I do find him to improve greatly upon further acquaintance,” Miss Elizabeth said. “How did you become supper partners with Lord Hartwell?”

“He sought out an introduction, saying something cryptic about a future association,” Mrs. Bennet said. “And he wanted to hear all about you. Did Mr. Darcy said anything about his intentions?”

“We spoke of books, and he introduced his housekeeper to me.”

“She might be your housekeeper before the spring, I dare say,” Mrs. Bennet said dreamily. “Have you thought about the colour of your wedding dress?”

“Mama, this is somewhat premature,” Miss Elizabeth said.

“Is it? If you want to be married in the dress of your dreams you need to plan in advance,” Mrs. Bennet said. “When my brother Phillips said your marital prospects were irrelevant, he said it was not irrelevant to him.”

“He was denying his engagement to his cousin.”

“Yes, for your benefit,” Mrs. Bennet said. “When Mr. Wickham mentioned his cousin I saw him looking at you. Rather alarmed, I think.”

“Well, we shall see.”

“Yes, we shall,” Mrs. Bennet said decisively. “Sooner, rather than later. Just look at him, he staged an entire dramatic production at Miss Bingley’s ball so that he could prove some things to you.”

“He wanted to prove things to Lydia.”

“He exchanged letters with Mr. Bennet, he knew that Lydia would not attend,” Mrs. Bennet said. “This was all for you.”

“I think it was to have Mr. Wickham arrested.”

“Yes but all those debts! You know he could have had Mr. Wickham quietly arrested at any time,” Mrs. Bennet said. “This was something else entirely. He told us at Lucas Lodge that he would provide copies of his father’s will for the entire Meryton to read, and he did. He said his solicitors could provide receipts for all the monetary transactions, and he did. He said he would invite his attorney to attend us in Hertfordshire, and he did. He said he could get his cousins and Mr. Wickham’s former friends to corroborate his account of his debaucheries, and he did.”

“Yes, well,” Miss Elizabeth said.

“All I am saying is, if that man promised to court you, he will.”

“No, he did not say that.”

“Oh, but you need not worry, it looks very auspicious,” Mrs. Bennet said. “I cannot imagine he would have brought the viscount all the way from Derbyshire to meet you if he was not serious.”

“Surely he did not invite Lord Hartwell just to meet me.”

“Why else?” Mrs. Bennet said. “All Mr. Darcy’s other guests had documents relating to Mr. Wickham, or some kind of tale to tell. But Lord Hartwell did not say much. If he is here to grant you family approval, you need to be polite to him.”

“Well, I suppose one should be polite to a viscount regardless,” Miss Elizabeth said.

“I read the will, and Mr. Darcy’s estate is not entailed,” Mrs. Bennet said. “You would be set for life. Are you sure he did not say anything about his intentions?”

“All he said was that he wanted to prove his mettle,” Miss Elizabeth said. “By dancing with me.”

“And you have already danced twice!” Mrs. Bennet sighed happily. “A March wedding might be nice.”

Later on, Lord Hartwell requested Miss Elizabeth’s company for a set. They sat in the card room, together with Sir Arthur and Mr. Darcy.

“That was quite an elaborate production,” said Lord Hartwell.

“Like a stage play, and I had a great seat in the front row,” Miss Elizabeth said.

“Thank you, it went rather better than I feared,” Mr. Darcy said. “I had a lot of very clever people helping to arrange it.”

“He has been thinking about this ball more than Miss Bingley,” the Colonel said.

“How did Miss Bingley react to your changes?”

“Well, I dare say she was not happy,” Lord Hartwell said. “But she would never refuse anything that Darcy asked. Or a viscount, for that matter.”

“I did not tell Bingley a lot of the details,” Mr. Darcy said. “So I am afraid that Miss Bingley got a little blindsided.”

“That man cannot dissemble to save his life,” the Colonel said.

“Mr. Gallagher and the clerks in his office were instrumental in collecting the documentation and contacting the universities and the bishops. Sir William and Lady Lucas kindly collected information about Wickham’s debts in Meryton,” Mr. Darcy explained.

“It might have been simpler to make a list of the shops that Wickham is not in debt at,” the Colonel said.

“Colonel Forster made inquiries among his officers, and arranged for Wickham to be discreetly escorted at all times. Mr. Gallagher, Mr. Goulding and Mr. Phillips planned and coordinated the discussion topics, although much of it was left to improvisation.”

“The one thing we could not be sure of was how Wickham would react,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said.

“I think he believed he might bluff his way out of it at first,” Lord Hartwell said.

“The vicar’s participation was a surprise,” Mr. Darcy said. “I gather that he had been informed by Miss Mary who gave him some ideas. My cousins thought of inviting Sir Arthur and Mr. Fenton, and Mrs. Reynolds brought some documents and the sketchbooks from Pemberley.”

“The artistic talent that runs in your family is quite extraordinary,” Miss Elizabeth said.

“It was lucky that Georgiana loves drawing portraits because the children’s resemblance to Wickham’s childhood portraits is quite striking,” Mr. Darcy said. “But it would not have been right to bring the children.”

“Do they have any contact with Mr. Wickham?”

“No, and it is better that way,” Lord Hartwell said. “They have been adopted as family by much better men.”

“That is not saying much though,” said the Colonel. “A scarecrow in the fields would be a better man than Wickham, even if it was a woman.”

Miss Elizabeth leafed through the sketchbooks. There were portraits of people, landscapes, and pictures of a house.

“That is a sketch of Pemberley that Georgiana drew two years ago,” Mr. Darcy said. “I could not prove that it is real at this time but at least you know what it looks like now.”

“Oh, Pemberley is real, all right,” Sir Arthur said. “Wickham would not have been half as jealous if it was not.”

“Wait, what was that? You need to prove Pemberley?” Colonel Fitzwilliam asked. “All you need to do is look at Reynolds. There is no way that that woman could exist without something grand and fearsome attached to her.”

“She seemed very nice,” Miss Elizabeth said.

“You can say that because she has never given you a scolding,” the Colonel said.

“What was that about burrs?” Miss Elizabeth asked.

“Well, it was just a trial ball,” Lord Hartwell said. “I was not sure it would hit.”

“Pretty sure it did,” Sir Arthur said.

“I do not understand,” she said.

“Once I was out drinking with Wickham,” said Sir Arthur. “And we were talking about famous riding accidents, and he got rather upset. He kept saying that it was not his fault, and how was he supposed to know who would be riding, and he could not be hanged for injuring a peer. We were both rather tipsy and I did not understand what he was talking about, so I forgot all about it.”

“It is by and large a good policy to forget at least three quarters of everything Wickham ever said to you, because it is likely to be a lie,” the Colonel said.

“I did not put two and two together until much later,” Sir Arthur said. “Darcy told me about his cousin’s riding accident.”

“We were at Pemberley,” Lord Hartwell said. “The horse was rather skittish and threw me right there in the stable yard. My leg has not been the same since.”

“The stable boys found burrs under the saddle,” Mr. Darcy said.

“It was not an accident. But we did not know who put them there,” Lord Hartwell says. “Darcy trusts his stable staff and could not think of a reason any of them would have done it.”

“But it was a little after Wickham had been thrown out of Pemberley for the last time,” Mr. Darcy said.

“The thing is,” Lord Hartwell said, “I was riding Darcy’s horse.”

“Oh,” Miss Elizabeth said.

“We thought Wickham might have had something to do with it,” Lord Hartwell continued. “But there was no proof and we never knew for sure.”

“I think we do now,” the Colonel said. “If he knew nothing about it he would have asked why you are talking about burrs all of a sudden. But he said you could not prove it.”

“Right,” said Lord Hartwell. “Well, I think he might regret some of his choices after Forster and Marshalsea are through with him.”

“But why did you decide to do this now?” Miss Elizabeth asked. “It seems like you had held some of his debts for a long time and could have had him arrested for them a long before this.”

“That is what I think he should have done,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “If feeding him to the lions was not an option.”

“I shall let you in on a secret,” Lord Hartwell said. “We think it has something to do with a lady.”

“I had something of an epiphany at Lucas Lodge,” Mr. Darcy said. “Your sister Lydia is the same age as my sister Georgiana, and they both seem to have the same difficulties in seeing through dishonesty and manipulation. And I noticed some other people had also been affected by his tales of me, and was surprised how painful it was that they might think ill of me, because of Wickham’s lies.”

“They”, Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “A strange word, they. To think that some people have graduated from Cambridge and they still have trouble with their vocabulary, using they, when they mean, you.”

“It would not happen to an Oxford man, I dare say,” Sir Arthur said.

“Darcy is a private individual and does not usually care what people think about him,” said Lord Hartwell. “But I think he means to come back to Hertfordshire and there are others who might care.”

Mr. Darcy looked embarrassed. “I had hoped to discuss this more privately. But it was important to me that you would know that I do not make promises that I do not mean to keep.”

“Hence, Mr. Gallagher,” Miss Elizabeth said. “You promised that I would be impressed by the competence of your legal team, and I was.”

“He is an Oxford man, after all,” Lord Hartwell said.

They spoke of inconsequential matters for a while. Miss Elizabeth told them about her sisters, and she was told about the earl and the countess. Their estate was not far from Pemberley, and it was clear that the cousins were close.

Then:

“I was told that you are a black-hearted villain if you do not dance,” said Mr. Darcy. “To prove that I am acting in good faith, I would like to request your hand for the last set.”

“A third dance, Mr. Darcy? I thought I was not handsome enough to tempt you."

“You should know better by now than to believe any nonsense you hear people spouting,” Mr. Darcy said. “You should always require proof.”

“After all those things that you said before, you are now trying to reverse the course and teach me not to believe a word you say?”

“I am only saying that you should consider the evidence before you. I am asking you to dance with me again. I am clearly rather tempted.”

“I would say he is quite besotted,” said Lord Hartwell.

“He would not stop talking about you,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam.

“See, I have two witnesses vouching for my feelings,” Mr. Darcy said.

But he decided that it was better to leave said witnesses to their own devices, took her arm and directed her to a corner with a little more privacy.

“Whatever am I going to do with you, Mr. Darcy?”

“Well if you were to consult my preferences…,” he paused. “You would have me and hold me from this day forward, until death do us part. But first, a dance?”

“Wait, wait, is this not rather sudden? You said one should question everything unless there is proof. And you have shown me plenty of evidence,” said Miss Elizabeth. “But I have shown you nothing. How can you be sure of my character?”

“There are always exceptions to every rule,” Mr. Darcy said. “This is one of those cases in which I think it needs to be a leap of faith.”

“A leap of faith?”

“The kind of evidence that I require would be rather impossible to come by before the wedding.”

“Oh.”

“The next fifty years as my beloved wife and the mother of my children would be a good start.”

“Oh.”

“And I cannot prove that I love you in any other way than by loving you. Will you let me try?”

xxx

Miss Bingley almost missed the last set because she was busy perusing George Darcy’s will in the library. But then she was heard shrieking, “Twenty thousand per year!” She made haste to go in the ballroom, but when she saw him dancing with Eliza Bennet again, she collapsed on the floor.

No, she was not dead. The most fashionable hostesses of the ton would never allow a dead body at a ballroom, but elegant fainting was quite the thing.

xxx

When the Bennets returned home from the ball they found Miss Lydia in the parlour holding hands with a stranger.

“Never unchaperoned, sir,” the man was quick to reassure, and indeed, a maid was dozing in a corner of the room, thanks to Hill.

It turned out that the stranger was Mr. Bennet’s cousin Mr. Collins, who was to inherit Longbourn. He had come for a visit, fully prepared to admire and marry one of his fair cousins. He said he had written a letter to announce his arrival, although Mr. Bennet did not admit to seeing such a missive. As Miss Lydia had been the only sister available to welcome Mr. Collins he had been able to flatter her vanity exclusively, and she in turn had taken the opportunity to charm him with her vivacity and hospitality. He was soon convinced that Cousin Lydia was the only one of her sisters who was suitable to be a parson’s wife. She had told him the eldest three were sure to have been flirting with officers all night, and he thought that the fourth sister must be rather sickly, being confined in her room on such a night.

Miss Lydia’s suitor was not as handsome or as charming as Mr. Wickham but as her father had become quite tyrannical of late, she would welcome the chance to get out of his oppressive regime and run her own home as she saw fit. Mr. Collins had told her of the splendour that was Rosings Park and the magnificence of his patroness, lady Catherine de Bourgh, and she was eager to be the first one of her sisters who was married. One day she would be the mistress of Longbourn and she would love to tell them all what to do.

Mr. Bennet eventually found his cousin’s letter, still unopened, and was convinced that the prosy fellow was exactly who he said he was. It was clear that Lydia had decided to marry him mostly to spite her father but he saw this as no reason to oppose the union and encouraged a brief engagement. The house was a lot quieter after Lydia and Mr. Collins were both gone. Being the heir’s mother-in-law, Mrs. Bennet no longer needed to be vexed about the entailment, and Mr. Bennet was satisfied that his most bothersome daughter was respectably settled with so little trouble for himself.

After her marriage, Mrs. Collins learned the wisdom of waiting to see the evidence first as the Hunsford parsonage was not nearly as grand as Mr. Collins had made it seem and it turned out that a rector’s wife had many chores to do. She was also somewhat disillusioned about Rosings Park which did not turn out to be the finest estate in England after all. Mr. Collins saw the de Bourgh ladies as incomparable arbiters of fashion but Mrs. Collins soon set set him to rights. Using old copies of La Belle Assemblée, she was able to prove conclusively that their expensive finery was at least two years out of style. And Miss de Bourgh would not look half so sickly if she did not insist wearing that horrid shade of puce, she said.

Due to Lady Catherine’s endless interference, Mrs. Collins was often unable to arrange her household as she liked, but the fear of Lady Catherine’s ire did improve her manners in a way that her parents never could. She was still easily bored and prone to interrupting when she got annoyed, so her husband eventually learned to talk less often and shorten his discourse when he did, which none of his acquaintance found lamentable. If they were not the happiest couple on earth, at least it was mostly their own choices that made them so.

Alas, Mrs. Collins was not the first of her sisters to marry. That distinction belonged to Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy. Her intended had been firmly convinced of the usefulness of legal contracts and written documentation in establishing one’s bona fides, so he quickly presented Mr. Bennet with proof of his honourable intentions, in the form of a marriage settlement. It had been drafted by Mr. Gallagher the day after the ball. Miss Elizabeth was impressed with Mr. Gallagher’s ability to explain the details in clear and precise terms, and Mr. Bennet was impressed with Mr. Darcy’s generosity. Mr. Collins had been inclined to complain because he had heard rumours of Mr. Darcy’s alleged engagement to Miss de Bourgh, but these lamentations were silenced when Mr. Gallagher asked if he had ever seen any documented evidence of such an affair and told him the legal definition of hearsay.

Once the marriage settlement had been copied on the finest vellum that Mr. Gallagher had been able to find, it was properly dated, signed and witnessed. Then Mr. Darcy produced a special licence that the Archbishop of Canterbury had been kind enough to provide, along with the letter denying all knowledge of Mr. George Wickham.

“My goodness, Mr. Darcy, you are an overachiever,” said Mrs. Bennet.

The much overlooked harpist from the Netherfield ball was hired to perform at the wedding breakfast, and her romantic tunes finally got the appreciation they deserved.

Later, Miss Lucas married Mr. Gallagher, after a more sedate courtship of less unseemly haste.

The debtor’s prison was generally not regarded as a nice place but Mr. Wickham found the company to be rather more congenial than Hertfordshire. At last, he was able to make some friends that he could keep, but only because none of them had much choice. From time to time, he still liked to blame his great misfortunes on Mr. Darcy but as none of his fellow inmates knew his nemesis they took his story just as seriously as they took everyone else’s excuses.

“Right, so first this rich gent didn’t make you a preacher. And he didn’t give you his house, or his sister, or your thirty thousand pounds,” old Thompson said. “And then you had to join the regiment because the fellow forced you to drink and spend all your money.”

“What money? You said you didn’t have any.” It was young Martindale.

“And then he got me flogged,” Mr. Wickham said bitterly.

Old Thompson patted Wickham’s back comfortingly. “Never mind, lad, I know it is not your fault. We are all the same, only here because the tooth fairy never compensated us fairly for any of our losses.”

THE END