Monday, October 29, 2018

Young Wickham: Part Six

PART ONE / PART TWO / PART THREE / PART FOUR / PART FIVE


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Mrs. Norton had arrived while the boys were out, professing that she should not have left Mr. Norton alone in his condition but for an unwillingness to abandon Mrs. Darcy at such a time. “I can only imagine how difficult this transition must be for you, Lizzy, and especially for poor Mr. Darcy! I sincerely hope the boy’s resemblance to his father is only skin deep.”

“We are beginning to have good reason to believe that it is,” Mrs. Darcy replied. “George seems very good natured. The children are charmed with him.”

“Hmph!” Mrs. Norton replied. “We shall see. I seem to recall his father charming all of Meryton before his duplicity was revealed.”

“His father was a practiced seducer. George is a boy of ten, Kitty. Thus far, his behavior has been excellent. Until that changes, we must not judge him by his father or mother.”

“Very easy for you to say, but tell me Mr. Darcy does not see the friend of his youth every time he looks at him, and is reminded of the ingratitude with which that friendship was returned.” Mrs. Darcy could make no reply. Her sister was not in possession of the full facts regarding Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham’s breach, and she had no need to be enlightened. “I for one intend to do my part to see that he is humble and grateful for this extraordinary blessing. In that manner, I hope to be some service to the boy.”

“He would do better to be the recipient of your friendship and affection than your admonitions.”

Mrs. Norton blushed. “He has those, of course. He is my nephew. I only mean to help him conduct himself properly in this world. You do not know what it means to be dependent on another, Lizzy. I do.”

She laughed. “Surely Mr. Darcy and I do not treat you as a dependent, Kitty. You are family, and Mr. Darcy is happy to be in a position to assist Mr. Norton.”

“I know that, but it would be very unbecoming of me to forget what we owe you, nonetheless.”

“Enough of this nonsense. You need not humble yourself before us, nor ought George do so. We are all on equal footing in heart and mind, if not in the pocket.”

“That is very progressive thinking on your part, Lizzy. Do not be surprised when the world disagrees.”

At this point the boys made their entrance and hungrily helped themselves to the refreshments spread before the ladies.

“Well! I might have expected such behavior from young Wickham here, or even Tom, but I thought you, Edmund, knew better than to present yourself in the drawing room covered in such dirt,” Mrs. Norton scolded.

George and Edmund looked down at their muddy boots and trousers consciously, but Tom was undeterred. “We are growing boys, Aunt Norton, and require frequent sustenance.”

“You will change before the house tour,” their mother firmly stated.

He made a face. “Must I attend yet another Grand Tour, Mama? I was hoping to persuade Father into some angling.”

She smiled affectionately on her first born. “If you can convince your father to abandon his books today, you are welcome to whatever activity is required to accomplish the feat. He is with Mr. Thompson reviewing the rents.”

Tom knew from experience that to interrupt his father during such a pursuit would only result in him being enlisted in the tedious task, which prospect made touring the house far more agreeable. “Oh no. If he is engaged in important estate business, I had better not disturb him.”

“It is good to see you feel as you ought on certain matters, even as you disregard common drawing room etiquette.” Mrs. Norton wrinkled her nose in disgust. “You smell of the stables, my boy. It is unbefitting the heir of Pemberley.”

He laughed at his aunt but rose to leave, indicating the others should follow. “We shall relieve you of our disagreeable odors this very moment, ma’am. Where do we meet you, Mama?”

“We shall start in the portrait gallery.”

“We shall be there in twenty minutes. It is enough time for you, is it not, Edmund?” he asked archly.

“Of course,” his brother replied tersely.

“And you, George, cannot be a dandy with none but two coats to your name. Twenty minutes will suffice.”

George blushed and Mrs. Darcy frowned, noticing for the first time that her nephew was wearing the same clothes as when he arrived. “We shall have to take you to Lambton to purchase additional garments for you, George. Have one of the maids brush out your evening clothes if they have not yet done so. Tom can lend you jacket and trousers to wear this afternoon.”

“But they will be too large for him, Mama!” Tom protested.

“Sally is quick with her needle. She will fit them enough to suffice for the moment.”

“Then he shall be more than twenty minutes,” Tom grumbled.

Mrs. Darcy’s smile was tense. “Then we will wait. You had best be off now.”

Tom turned sulkily towards the door. George exchanged worried looks with Edmund as they followed behind. As soon as they were in the hall, Tom turned on his cousin. “Thanks a lot, George. ‘Tis bad enough I need trail along on a tour of my own house, but now you have gotten me in trouble with Mama.”

George was taken aback. “My aunt seemed unperturbed.”

“You say that because you don’t know her. She was very angry with me,” Tom insisted.

“I agree, but it is not George’s fault,” Edmund said. “My mother did not like to hear you speak slightingly of his circumstances. It was badly done.”

“I see how it is to be,” Tom said defensively. “You two are to ally yourselves against me, is that it? Let me just remind you both who is to be master here someday. You would do well not to forget,” and he turned and marched away, leaving Edmund embarrassed and George anxious.

“I see why you warned me,” George admitted quietly.

Edmund sighed. “He will get over it soon enough and be back in good humor. This sort of petulance is typical of him.”

“Is it not worrisome to your parents, such moodiness?”

“He rarely shows himself in such a light before them. It is sad, for I think Mother and Father rather exceptional parents, but they cannot see Tom for who he really is, or if they do, they are convinced it is symptomatic of his age and will soon pass.”

George looked hopeful at this notion. “They could very well be correct. I have heard of such cases, where disagreeable youths grew into fine gentlemen.”

Edmund looked skeptical. “He has always been this way. ‘Tis no stage. We had best hurry. Mother will have already sent Sally to you.” They abandoned their conversation and hastened to their rooms.
 
§§§

Edmund proved correct in his prediction. By the time the party reconvened for the house tour, Tom was again his easy and charming self. He complimented George on his appearance in the borrowed clothes and offered his mother his arm as she led the group about the premises. George had already seen a great many of main rooms, but now their aspects were admired, their furnishings dated, and the portraits and paintings on the walls given names. His aunt was delighted to discover her nephew possessed of a good eye for art, identifying the artist of more than one piece before being told. Fine furnishing were more of a mystery to him, but he was able to comment with tact and sense even on those subjects she could tell were of little interest. She silently thanked Mr. Wilkinson for the trouble he had taken with the boy. Had he been left to his parents, she doubted she would find his mind and principals so sound.

When Mrs. Darcy had conducted them through all but the servants quarters and offices, she eagerly suggested they take tea in the conservatory, and was charmed to learn that George was already engaged to her daughters. He excused himself, thanking her prettily for the tour, and she was left to lead her sister and two sons to the refreshments Mrs. Reynolds had prepared for them.

“Tell me, my sons, how you find your cousin,” she requested, once ensconced in her favorite chair with a welcome cup in hand.

Tom, as usual, was first to reply. “He seems a decent chap. He rides well enough and will make a fine appearance once you take him shopping.”

“Yes, I can see he is well-looking. I meant how do you find his character.”

Tom blinked at her, questioningly. “I said he rides well enough.”

“He is also well-read and spoken,” Edmund intervened. “His manners are engaging. He seems to think as he ought, is very grateful to be here, and anxious to make a good impression.”

“We could not help but wonder, Mama, what his father did to so infuriate my own,” Tom pressed.

“It matters little and is long in the past. Please do not pry into affairs which do not concern you, Tom.”

He looked down, chastened. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I feel for the boy. I really do,” Mrs. Norton declared fervently. “How difficult it must be for him to be away from home, and when poor Lydia needs him so! He was the nearest thing she had to a man in the house – she had to let her man servant go after Wickham’s death – and must now feel the want of one, in her delicate position.”

“I did not know she was left so unprotected,” her sister said with a frown.

“Did I not tell you? She wrote to me of it some time ago, but perhaps with all the excitement involving George’s coming to Pemberley I forgot to mention it.”

“She must at least have someone by her to call for assistance during her confinement. I shall ask Mr. Darcy to attend to the matter.”

“I am sure you need not put Mr. Darcy to any bother, Lizzy. Lydia knows how to fend for herself. She has had to do so for many years now, for Wickham never was any help to her.”

“George says his mother will remarry soon enough,” Tom said. “Apparently she is still comely and likely to have scores of suitors.”

Mrs. Darcy blushed. “Still more the reason she should not be unprotected.”

“That is not what George said, Tom,” Edmund protested.

Tom shrugged. “Near enough.”

“This is not a seemly conversation,” their mother declared. “We shall say no more of the subject. Where did you take George on your ride this morning?” The discussion proceeded along more mundane lines for another half hour, when Mrs. Norton realized she had been away far longer than intended and rushed off, insisting Mr. Norton should never have been left alone at all. Elizabeth dismissed her sons to their pursuits and went in search of her husband, whom she found chatting amicably over a cup of tea with Mr. Thompson, the estate steward.

“Hello, my dear,” he rose to greet her and led her to a chair. “I was just about to call our new resident in to meet Mr. Thompson. The two will be spending a great deal of time together in the future.”

“He is taking his tea in the nursery with the girls.”

Mr. Darcy looked surprised. “I thought he would be with you and the boys.”

“He was, but he promised Maria faithfully at breakfast to attend her little party and could not be persuaded to break the engagement.”

Mr. Darcy laughed. “It is good of him to entertain her, but they must be finished by now. Will you send someone for him?”

“Certainly,” she rang the bell and asked the footman who responded to fetch Mr. Wickham. She noted her husband’s easy mien falter at the sound of the name. “I have a matter I should like to bring to your attention before he arrives. My sister informs me that Mrs. Wickham has had to dismiss her man servant.”

Mr. Darcy frowned. “When did this occur?”

“Apparently, some months ago.”

He sighed. “With all of Mrs. Norton’s attention to the affairs of others, she failed to mention this matter sooner?” Mrs. Darcy simply raised an eyebrow in reply. He sighed again. “Mr. Thompson, please contact an employment agency near Mrs. Wickham’s abode and have them find some respectable, older couple to wait upon her. I shall pay their wages.”

“Yes, sir,” the good man replied, making a note in the pocket diary he always carried.

Mrs. Darcy took her husband’s hand within her own and squeezed it affectionately. “You always know just what to do. Thank you. I shall worry less for her now.”

“She ought not have been left unattended at such a time.”

There was a knock on the door and George was admitted into the room. He bowed to Mr. Thompson and shook his hand, professing in his friendly way his pleasure at the acquaintance.

“The pleasure is all mine, my boy. I look forward to training someone up to this job. Truth be told, I am starting to feel my years and could use the assistance.”

“I am anxious to be of service to you, sir.”

“I have instructed Mr. Thompson to find some help for your mother. We have only just learned of the diminished nature of your household.”

George’s eyes lit up. “That is quite marvelous of you, sir. I confess I was worried about her being so much alone at this time.”

“We shall see she is properly attended,” Mr. Darcy assured him, uncomfortable under the suddenly adoring gaze of his nephew. “If you know of anything else she requires, please do not hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you,” he bowed and said no more, seeing that his emotion discomfited his uncle, though his heart soared with gratitude.

“You have the afternoon to yourself, George,” Elizabeth said. “How do you intend to spend it?”

“I want to return to the library,” he replied. “It is a most magnificent collection you have, Uncle Darcy.”

He smiled, always happy to discuss books. “It is the work of many generations. We are quite proud of it.”

“Understandably. It is even finer than Mr. Wilkinson’s library, and that is saying a great deal. He has more than a thousand volumes,” he said reverently, “and Aunt Lizzy tells me there are more than three thousand in your collection. It must be the finest in all the country!”

Mr. Darcy laughed at the boy’s infectious enthusiasm. “No, not nearly so. I assure you. I must take you to Chatsworth one day. The Duke’s library is truly impressive.”

“That would be splendid!” he enthusiastically replied.

Mr. Darcy laughed again. “Now off with you, George. Enjoy your free time. Studies begin tomorrow.” The boy scampered off. Mrs. Darcy happily noted that her husband had finally called the boy by his name. He had even smiled while doing so.

_________________________

 Come back tomorrow to read Part Seven!

 Twisted Austen Giveaway:

Stop by, read the story, and enter to win! Increase your chances of winning by leaving multiple comments (be sure to include you email address in at least one). At the end of the event (giveaway open through November 7th), I will randomly select two grand winners. Each will receive copies of all five Twisted Austen ebooks, including Young Wickham, plus a set (six each) of these adorable decorative clothes pins, purchased at my local grocery here in Switzerland. Two runners up will receive Young Wickham ebooks. What if you already have all the Twisted Austen books? Enter anyway. We'll work something out. This giveaway is open internationally. Extra entries for social media shares, but you must mention them in your comments for credit. Good luck to all who enter, thank you so much for reading, and have a very happy Halloween!

Sunday, October 28, 2018

Young Wickham: Part Five

PART ONE / PART TWO / PART THREE / PART FOUR

George awoke the next morning after a night of dreamless repose, a gift to the exhausted, but though refreshed and energetic, he did not immediately arise. Lying on his back, enveloped in the most comfortable bed in which he had ever slept, he gazed around at the fineroom which would now be considered his own. Very little in his life had ever been entirely his own, at least not since his infancy, and he luxuriated in the privacy. Once his studies began, he would be able to read and work uninterrupted. He grinned at the thought. He missed his brothers and sisters, certainly, but he knew this to be a remarkable opportunity to forge a better life for them all, and his determination to do so was far more powerful than any yearning for home. The biggest obstacle in his path, as he had come to understand over the course of the previous day, was Mr. Darcy himself. The hand that had been extended to George was reluctant and might be pulled back at any time. 

George had counted the privilege of calling Mr. Darcy “Uncle” a triumph, and had retired confident that he would win his benefactor over in time, but both Edmund’s words on the matter and the stark morning light undermined his assurance. He now considered how awkward it would be for him to continue calling the gentleman “Mr. Darcy” when all the world knew he was his nephew. The concession might have more to do with this appearance than any softening of the man’s heart.

He climbed out of bed and dressed himself. Carefully guiding his way through the  stately halls, using tables and paintings as landmarks, he found Edmund’s door and knocked.

He was called into a much grander room than his own bearing all the appearance of being well-lived in and rendering his own Spartan in comparison. Edmund was sitting at a writing desk, working. George crossed the room and looked over his cousin’s shoulder to behold a detailed drawing of a finch.

“You are an artist, Edmund!” he exclaimed.

“No,” his cousin blushed. “Not really. I just enjoy sketching.”

“That is awfully detailed for a mere sketch. You have talent. Did Mr. Carson teach you?”

“No, my Aunt Georgiana.”

“You should take lessons,” George insisted.

“I don’t think so,” Edmund replied, reordering the papers on his desk to hide the finch. “Tom already teases me for my interest.”

“You should not let that stop you.”

“Do you still want to see the library?” he asked.

“More than anything!” George replied enthusiastically. Edmund put on his jacket and led the way downstairs.

The library was an impressive, two-storied room. Large windows along one wall provided ample light while masses of books lined the shelves everywhere else. George stood in the center and turned, taking it all in. “It is the most wonderful room I have ever seen,” he proclaimed in reverent tones.

Edmund smiled. “It is my favorite in the house. My father and mother’s, too. Though it has always served as the library, my grandfather had it enlarged and the room remains as he designed it, other than the addition of newer works to the collection.”

“Another memorial to the elder Mr. Darcy. I begin to understand what Tom said of making his mark on the house. This is an extraordinary legacy! I do not know where to begin,” George admitted, now running his hand along the shelves, stopping to smile at familiar titles.

“I thought you might find these interesting,” he guided his cousin to a low shelf filled with oversized books. “These are the estate ledgers going back well over one hundred years. Look, here are the records from when your grandfather was steward.” He pulled one of the shelf, laid it on a nearby table, and opened to a random page. “I think that is probably his handwriting. The other hand is my grandfather’s. I know if from old letters and documents my father keeps.”

George ran his eyes down the page upon which a variety of items were listed along with their associated costs and purposes. It made for mundane reading, but Edmund could not help but wonder if the information might prove useful. “Thank you for showing me this, Edmund. I think I might learn a lot from such records. One immediately perceives how very complex and detailed the running of such a large estate must be.”

“It is a daunting task, but do not fear. You will be prepared for it when the time comes.”

“I do hope so.”

“There you are,” Tom’s voice interrupted the two boys in their perusal. Both looked up to perceive him standing in the doorway. “I thought we were to ride this morning, not bury ourselves in books.”

“George wanted to see the library,” Edmund explained.

“And so he shall this afternoon, when Mama plans to conduct the Grand Tour. Now is the time to get some exercise. Come to breakfast that we may be off.” Without waiting for the others he exited the room, certain they would follow his command.

Edmund closed the ledger and returned it to the shelf. “We had better go.”

“Tom seems already the Master of Pemberley. He is a natural leader,” George commented, admiringly.

“Oh yes, he is as in command as he can be for a boy of thirteen, and he is not one to let anyone else forget that he will one day be in complete control of all our lives.”

“A little bluster is to be expected from someone so fortunately placed as himself.”

“Tom has more than a little bluster.”   

§§§

The girls were in the breakfast parlor with Miss Lee, who smiled kindly at George and invited him to sit beside her and talk of himself. She was a cheerful woman who had been with the Darcys for nearly a decade. Maria shyly asked her cousin if he really had seven siblings at home and a new baby expected on the way. He laughed and confirmed her information, and when pressed as to which he would prefer, another sister or brother, his ready affirmation in favor of the former won him a firm little friend. The bond was further solidified when she asked if she could join the boys on their ride, a request which Tom was quick to deny, but George seemed very sorry to lose her company. Three hungry boys will only linger so long over their food, and soon Tom was itching to be off. An invitation was extended to take tea with the girls later that day, which George accepted with a formality that delighted his youngest cousins.

“Come along, George,” Tom said impatiently. “You can dangle after my sisters later.”

George blushed but smiled. “Maria reminds me of our little Lydie at home. I suppose she will have grown into quiet a young lady by the time I next see her,” he sighed. 

Tom laughed. “Sisters are plaguy things. I do not know why you should wish for more.”

“It has been my experience, having a great variety of both sisters and brothers, that the former are a deal less trouble, especially in infancy. A girl will be easier for Mama to manage.”

“If they are less trouble at first, I imagine they make up for it at last,” Tom replied, knowingly.

George laughed. “You may very well be right, Cousin. Hopefully, Mama will be fortunate in her next marriage before being put to such a test.”

“Do you expect that she will marry again?” Edmund asked, breathing somewhat heavily as he struggled to keep pace with the others.

“I have no doubt she will.”

“A mother of nine children is unlikely to find the suitors banging down her door,” Tom commented slyly.

“Oh, Mama is remarkably well preserved and has a wide social circle. She will have her choice of husbands. I just hope she chooses wisely.”

Mr. Wilcox had their horses saddled and ready. George approached Midnight slowly, holding out an apple he had brought along to help win her affection. Mr. Wilcox watched as he mounted, adjusted his saddle, and corrected his posture before saying with a grimace. “Aye. I suppose ye’ll do.” With that the boys were off, George not as at home as his companions but making a creditable display. His cousins took him to some of their favorite parts of the estate. They rode by the old house, dating back to the reign of Elizabeth, and having since served as the Dower House, unneeded for three generations. It occasionally was tenanted by some select family visiting the area but was otherwise unused. Then there was the Hermitage, said to be even older than the old house, and left to ruin centuries ago. The last stop on their tour was the outlook from which one could see all of the vast estate, the town of Lambton beyond to the west, and the smaller hamlet of Kympton to the south. Tom pointed out landmarks with pride of ownership, knowing one day all before him would be his. Edmund, destined for the living at Kympton, pointed out some of the notable features of its church.

George was overawed by the magnitude of Pemberley. He felt the weight of the responsibility he had been given: to care for this land, its people, and to someday advise the boy beside him in the governance of it all.  At the same time, he was forcefully struck by the notion that his own father had probably stood on the same spot, perhaps beside a former heir to all below, thinking his life was tied to this land and people. Both his father and mother had long claimed that the elder Mr. Darcy had intended the living at Kympton for Wickham, and because of some lack of specificity in his will, the current Mr. Darcy had denied it, forcing him to seek a career in the military instead. At one time, George had felt an anger towards this unknown uncle, certain he had deprived the entire family of a better life, but he later reconsidered his position after realizing how ill-suited his father would be for such a role. Mr. Wilkinson knew Mr. Darcy by reputation to be an honorable man, and though reluctant to say anything that might disparage his young friend’s father, when presented with the circumstances he said confidently that the matter was sure to have been handled equitably. George was never close enough with his father to inquire directly into the matter, but he learned to take the man’s grievances with a grain of salt. Wondering if his cousins knew anything of the matter, he cautiously said, “My father always maintained that your grandfather educated him for the Church. He felt the living at Kympton ought rightfully to have been his.”

Both of his cousins looked surprised by this news. “I certainly never heard anything of it,” Tom said dismissively.

Edmund, in keeping with his nature, took the matter more seriously. “Do you imply that Captain Wickham was deprived a promised living?”

“No, though he certainly saw it that way, I believe his perspective was limited. He would have made a terrible clergyman,” he confessed. “No conscientious landlord would place him in such a position. I feel certain your father behaved honorably towards mine, perhaps assisting him in another career.”

Edmund looked relieved by this admission and was ready to speak of other subjects, but Tom now found interest in the matter. “I wonder if that is not the reason they fell out? If
Father objected to Mr. Wickham as a rector and so cut him out?”

“I cannot conceive of Father doing such a thing,” Edmund said, now truly scandalized.

“I am sure there is a logical explanation for it all,” George quickly asserted.

“Yes, surely there is, but no one will share it with us,” Tom complained in frustration. “If only there was some way in which we could learn the truth.”

“You know, I was thinking there might be some clues in those ledgers you showed me earlier, Edmund,” George said. “The rupture must have taken place between the time of your grandfather’s death and the marriage of my parents. If we searched the entries during those years, we might learn something valuable.”

Tom’s face lit up while Edmund frowned. “That is an excellent idea, George!”

“What you propose requires a great deal of time. One would have to scan six, maybe seven years of entries. The task would take hours and probably avail you little.”

“The time can be of no matter,” Tom said. “I understand you to be a bookish fellow, George. I suspect you would enjoy the task, would you not?”

George looked skeptical. “I do not know that I shall have much leisure for such a pursuit. I begin studying with Mr. Carson tomorrow.”

“Carson is not such a task master. I dare say you will find yourself with ever so much more leisure than you have been accustomed to,” Tom countered.

George thought of the mystery behind his father’s disgrace and softened. “I should like to know anything that might shine light on the reason for our fathers’ falling out. It would help me know how best to proceed with Uncle Darcy.”

“Then that settles it. Mama will want us back for the Grand Tour now, so we had best get going. If there is time when she finishes, you can begin your research then,” he commanded.

“You forget I am promised to your sisters for tea.”

Tom grimaced. “Next time you will know better than to so beholden yourself.”

“I look forward to getting to know all my cousins better.”

“Yes, well, I suppose there is no hope for it now. You can begin tomorrow when we have our ride, instead.”

“That is unfair, Tom. George only just arrived!” Edmund protested.

“And the sooner we solve this mystery about his father, the sooner he can make headway with Father,” Tom countered. His expression softening, he said, “I only want ensure our cousin’s comfort.”

“I am unaccustomed to the luxury of a daily ride. Missing one will do me no harm,” George conceded.

“I knew you were right one,” said Tom, slapping George approvingly on the back. “And you can continue in the afternoon, once your lessons are complete.” With that he turned his horse and began leading the way back to the house, not bothering to see the look of hurt on his normally smiling cousin’s face.

“You need not do what he says,” Edmund said in an undertone, so as not to be overheard.

“No, he is right. Learning more about my father may very well be the key to my own future here. It ought to be my priority.” George spurred his horse into a trot to catch up with Tom, leaving Edmund shaking his head behind him. 
_________________________

Come back tomorrow to read Part Six!


 Twisted Austen Giveaway:

Stop by, read the story, and enter to win! Increase your chances of winning by leaving multiple comments (be sure to include you email address in at least one). At the end of the event (giveaway open through November 7th), I will randomly select two grand winners. Each will receive copies of all five Twisted Austen ebooks, including Young Wickham, plus a set (six each) of these adorable decorative clothes pins, purchased at my local grocery here in Switzerland. Two runners up will receive Young Wickham ebooks. What if you already have all the Twisted Austen books? Enter anyway. We'll work something out. This giveaway is open internationally. Extra entries for social media shares, but you must mention them in your comments for credit. Good luck to all who enter, thank you so much for reading, and have a very happy Halloween!