Young Wickham: Part Four

PART ONE / PART TWO / PART THREE

Following the best dinner in which he had ever partaken, and which he thankfully managed to survive without making any major etiquette blunders, George was called into Mr. Darcy’s study for a private conversation with his aunt and uncle. The latter’s rigid formality intimidated George, but he was determined not to let his behavior betray that fact and maintained a warm and cheerful demeanor throughout the interview, mostly conducted by Mrs. Darcy. She inquired into the state her sister’s household and offspring while her husband watched on, observing attentively and with what George believed to be displeasure.

“Your mother suggested Samuel is suited to a career in the military.”

George laughed and shook his head. “I cannot see him submitting to the discipline required.”

“He is strong-willed?”

“Mama calls him a handful.”

“It is often such boys who require stronger discipline. Military life might prove the making of him.”

“Perhaps,” George conceded. “Some officers are very good men, I am sure. I believe Mr. Darcy’s cousin, General Fitzwilliam, to be among the best. He occasionally calls on my mother, you know, to pay his respects when he is in that part of the country.”

Mrs. Darcy looked to her husband, who seemed surprised by this report, and replied, “I did not know.”

“If Sammy were to join the military, I should like him to become an officer in General Fitzwilliam’s style. Not so high, of course,” he added consciously, “but he is a fine, honorable man, do you not think so?”

“I know few better.”

“That is what I thought. He is always very gracious with my mother, all ease and consideration, and greets me by name. I know little of his military adventures but what is implied by his rank, yet he is what I would call a fine officer. They are not all like that,” he confided, thinking of his own father.

“No,” Mrs. Darcy replied sadly. “Wherever life takes you, unfortunately, you will find that be true of men, regardless of profession.”

“Yes. I suppose I must,” he said, his young face serious with consideration.

“Tell me, does Lydia have many callers?”

“Oh yes, my mother is very popular and has lots of friends.”

“Good. I should hate to think her lonely.”

He smiled. “That is one worry I do not have for Mama.”

“But you have others?” she asked gently.

“Yes,” he sighed. “More than I can count. You see, Mama is not a very good manager, but you must know that, having grown up with her.”

She smiled. “She was always first to spend all her pocket money.”

“She has no patience with numbers. I became accustomed in the last few years to do her accounting for her. She is forever short on funds and will be more so now that my father has passed. It was very good timing, sir,” he turned towards Mr. Darcy, “your sending for me when you did. Thank you, on behalf of all my family, for this opportunity. I will do my best to prove worthy of your trust.”

“I am sure you will, George,” Mrs. Darcy replied on her husband’s behalf.

“I will not disappoint you, Mr. Darcy,” he persisted.

The great man sat on in a deep silence which seems to last forever to poor George, then said, “You may call me Uncle Darcy.”

George, clearly touched, stood and reached out a hand to grasp his uncle’s, shaking it warmly. “Thank you, Uncle Darcy.”

Mr. Darcy, somewhat taken aback by the boy’s emotion, replied uneasily. “Certainly, certainly. It is rather late, is it not?” he turned towards his wife with a look of desperation.

“It is. You must be exhausted, George, and had best be off to bed. Can you find your way?”

“Yes, Aunt Darcy, I believe I can. Thank you,” he embraced her, a gesture she both welcomed and returned.

“Goodnight, my dear. And I am Aunt Lizzy to all my nieces and nephews. You may call me that as well.”

He hugged her one last time. “Goodnight, Aunt Lizzy. Goodnight, Uncle Darcy.”

“Goodnight, Nephew,” Mr. Darcy replied, finding it easier to own the relationship than to use the lad’s given name.  When the door was closed behind him and his footsteps receded down the hall, Mr. Darcy sank back into his chair with relief. “I am glad that is over. He seems a good lad, but the resemblance to his father is unnerving.” He rubbed his temples with his fingers. “This is going to be even more difficult than I anticipated.”

Mrs. Darcy moved behind him and took over massaging his head. Mr. Darcy closed his eyes and abandoned himself to his wife’s ministrations. She soothed his brow for several minutes before asking. “You did not know Richard was in contact with my sister?”

He kept his eyes shut as he responded. “No, but it does not surprise me. I knew he kept an eye on Wickham. This must have been his way of letting him know he was being watched and had best not neglect his duty to his family. If he had found Lydia in truly bad straits, I think he must have told me. This gives me hope her situation is not as desperate as feared.”

“Does he know George is here now?” she inquired.

“I told him he was coming in my last letter, but I have no way to know if he has yet received it. It might very well be chasing him about the continent.”

“I should like to hear his perspective on my sister’s predicament. George’s account of Lydia’s behavior is all too believable. She sounds just as she always was, careless and consumed with frivolity. He does not think well of the military, I fear.” She rested her hands on her husband’s shoulders and thought for a moment before starting to massage his neck. “I do not think he was fond of his father.”

Darcy opened his eyes. “I get that impression as well. I should say such discernment speaks well for the boy, but it is a terribly irreverent sentiment to express.”

“He has said nothing to dishonor his father’s memory,” she noted.

“No. Generally, my impression of him is quite favorable. If only he did not so remind me of the past! I want to be fair to the boy, but when I look at him, I cannot help but see his father.”

“I can see him too, though I never knew him at this age. I also see some of Lydia, but not in the boy’s behavior. His manners are much what they should be.”

“They are. For that, we must be grateful.”

“Mr. Carson tells me he made George’s acquaintance this morning and was quite enthused to find him so learned. Apparently, he was the recipient of an education quite unanticipated, thanks to this benevolent neighbor he speaks of, Mr. Wilkinson, who undertook the task. He must have perceived something very special in the child to submit to such a burden.”

Mr. Darcy was much struck by the notion. “Very true.”

She stopped what she was doing and walked around his chair to look at her husband. “Better?”

“Much. Thank you.”

She laid a hand upon his knee. “It has only been one day, I know, but I believe we have been fortunate in the acquisition of our nephew.”

He smiled at her, his face devoid of the tension it formerly carried. “I think you may be correct. I do so hope you are.”

§§§

George, accustomed to sharing a bed with two brothers, was having difficulty falling asleep. As he lay considering the many events of the day, there was a soft knock at his door.

“Come in!” he called, glad for the distraction.

Edmund stuck a capped head into the room. “I did not wake you?” he asked.

“Not at all. I doubt I shall have any sleep tonight, in a strange place with so many new impressions to contemplate.”

Edmund sat himself on the bed, where George had pointed him.  “I hope the experience was not too much for you.”

“Not too much, no, but it is a great deal to take in.”

“I cannot imagine what it must be like, to leave your home and go out in the world on your own.”

“Well, I am not on my own. I am with family,” he smiled broadly.

“Yes. Of course, you are.” Edmund looked at him thoughtfully before asking, “Are you not worried about father?”

George’s smile fell. “Yes. It is unfortunate he disliked mine so. I hope he will come to judge me for myself in time.” He grinned again. “He has told me to call him Uncle Darcy. I think that can be counted a step in the right direction.”

“Perhaps, though I do not know what else you should properly call him. Father is a fair man, even if he seems a bit formidable.” He studied his cousin. “You seem like a good person.”

George’s expressive face revealed some chagrin at this observation. “Is there a reason why I would not be?”

Edmund looked conscious. “I believe there was some concern you would take after your parents,” he said softly.

George was quiet as he digested this information, then he said, “Our mothers are sisters. As far as I understand it, our fathers were raised like brothers. Why should I be a product of my environment any more than they?”

“I meant no offense,” Edmund quickly replied. “I am sorry I spoke so.”

“I believe you. You seem like a good person, too.” His smile was restored and Edmund returned it three fold.

“I think I am. I try to be. Which is more than I can say for some,” he said ominously. “You ought to be careful around Tom. I would not trust him too much, if I were you.”

“He seems a nice enough fellow.” Edmund looked doubtful. “Perhaps he is a bit mischievous, but that is no unusual thing.”

“He can be more than mischievous. He can be cruel and controlling.”

“Some dominant tendencies are surely natural in the heir of such a fine estate.”

“Tom’s behavior goes beyond that. I have no wish to set you against him. I just want to put you on your guard. Do not allow him to lead you into trouble. It will not serve you well with Father.”

“Thank you for your concern. I will keep your advice in mind.”

“Good. It is late, and you must be tired. I just wanted to see how you were settled,” he said, rising. “I shall leave you now.”

“I doubt I shall sleep a wink, but thank you, Edmund, for your concern and making me feel welcome. I am most appreciative,” he put out a hand to shake and Edmund grasped it firmly.

“I am glad you have come, George. I hope we shall be good friends.”

“I think we will. You and I are much alike, I suspect.”

“Mother told me you are a great reader.”

“I adore books. When I have leisure for them, they are my best companions.”

“Has anyone shown you the library yet?”

George’s eyes lit up. “No! Aunt Lizzy has promised me a tour tomorrow, and I am most anxious to inspect that room, in particular.”

“If you are an early riser, I can show you about before breakfast when you have more leisure to inspect the books.”

“I should like that. Thank you.”

“Call for me when you rise.”

“I will.”

“Sleep well, Cousin.”

-->

“You too, Edmund, and thank you again,” and with warm smiles the boys parted for the night. Despite his protestations to the contrary, the overwhelmed boy fell asleep within moments of laying his head on the dense down pillow.

_________________________

Come back tomorrow to read Part Five!

A 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!

Young Wickham: Part Three

PART ONE / PART TWO

"This is Grandfather Darcy’s room and has been kept just as it was when he died.”

“How remarkable to have so many rooms you can keep one in memorial!” George exclaimed, gazing about wide-eyed as he followed Tom across the room towards a glass display case, Edmund trailing behind.

“There are a great many with almost no purpose at all,” Tom explained. “You are to receive the  Grand Tour tomorrow. Only when we have very large parties are all the rooms in use. Here is your father. I am told you look a great deal like him and I suppose I see the resemblance, but I do not think it so very striking.”

“You fail to account for the age difference. Mr. Wickham was a man when this likeness was taken.” Edmund turned towards his cousin. “In time, when you face lengthens and features sharpen, I think the resemblance will be remarkable.”

“You have my sympathies,” Tom said to George as he took a seat behind a formidable writing table and propped his feat upon it.

George assessed him a moment before replying. “My father was considered a remarkably handsome man.”

“Oh, no doubt you will be a favorite with the ladies, have no fear on that score. It is just that my father detested Mr. Wickham, you know, and Aunt Norton says that he will forever be thinking of your father when he interacts with you.”

“Idle speculation,” Edmund countered.

“Perhaps, but I heard my mother and father worrying about the very same thing. Father said himself that it would be a struggle.”

“You were eavesdropping,” Edmund frowned.

“I came upon them accidently, but it is not to the point. A friendly bit of advice, George: I would not speak about him before my father. You already bear his name and face. No need to stir up anymore memories.”

George nodded. “I had the sensation that Mr. Darcy was displeased with me. This explains it. Do you know what happened between them? My father used to speak of their great friendship as children, but he never could adequately account for their falling out. I know it must have taken place before my parents met,” he said with a blush, “though I suspect their marriage did not improve relations.”

Tom looked to Edmund before shaking his head. “No one ever told us what Mr. Wickham did.”

George gazed at the miniature of his father as a young man. He wanted to ask how they were so sure it had been his father at fault, but he feared it was probably the truth and had no wish to offend his hosts. “Your father was the only relation at my parents’ wedding besides Aunt and Uncle Gardiner, from whose house she was wed. Strange, is it not?”

“Exceedingly so. I know of no other mysteries in the family’s past. I wish there was some way to find out what happened,” Tom said enthusiastically, jumping to his feet. “Shall we figure it out? T’would be great sport, I should think.”

“Our parents would have shared the information if they thought we should have it. You are looking for trouble, Tom. Why not leave well enough alone?”

Tom shrugged off his brother’s admonition. “What about the stables then? Should you like to see them?”

George’s face lit up. “Very much so.” 

“Let us go at once. Can you ride?”

“Yes, but I have always been confined to city parks.”

“We are sure to find a mount in the stables that suits you.”

“You are certain it is not an imposition?” George wondered.

“Not at all. We will speak to Mr. Wilcox about it. He will find the horse for you.”

“You give yourself away, Tom,” Edmund said. “This is not about mounting Cousin George but extracting information from Mr. Wilcox about Mr. Wickham.”

Tom feigned innocence. “What a suspicious mind you have, Edmund! If you do not wish to come, stay here, but do not hinder George from joining us for a ride in the morning.”

“I have no desire to do anything of the sort. Go on, then. Meddle in the past. You have been warned.”

“Are you coming?”

“I think not.”

“Very well, then. Come along, Cousin.”

George looked between the two brothers, smiled warmly at Edmund, and then bade him goodbye, following Tom out the door.

§§§

The boys stepped out into the fresh summer air with an air of expectation and adventure. Tom set an eager pace, but George had the spirits to match him, and they made their way to the stables with a growing sense of comradery, Tom pointing out various landmarks such as the ice house and estate office.

“You see how conveniently these structures are located, yet still situated in such a manner as to blend effortlessly into the scenery. Repton himself oversaw the improvements, in my grandfather’s time.”

“I can see his hand in the picturesque consideration for the landscape,” George thoughtfully replied, pointing towards an emblematic clumping of tree.

“I see what you mean,” Tom said, squinting in the direction indicated. “To tell you the truth, I have little taste for such stuff. Edmund knows a great deal more about it than I do, but I plan to place my own mark on the land, when Pemberley is mine. Father never wishes to change anything, but I should like my descendants to know I had a hand in shaping their surroundings.”

“Surely Mr. Darcy’s influence can be felt everywhere. The estate appears to be perfectly tended. I have yet to know much of such things, but from what I do know, he must be a superb landlord.” George was still feeling very nervous about Mr. Darcy, but he thought this spoke well of him. A man who did well by his dependents must be honorable.

“Well, yes, I must say he is, but I should like to extend the house. If you are to be my steward, Pemberley will be ours to improve together. You seem to have a natural knack for this sort of thing.”

“I have read only one book on the subject,” George protested.

“‘Tis more than I have. Besides, you have plenty of time to become expert. Father is perfectly hale. Here we are,” he unnecessarily declared as they entered the large enclosure surrounding the impressive stables. “Mr. Wilcox!” He called out, and an old man with a bald pate came around the corner.”

“Hello there, young master,” he said, glancing up and down at George as he pulled a cap from his pocket, shook it out, and pulled it down on his head in salute. “What can I be doin’ for ye today?”

“This here is my cousin George, come to live with us.”

“Aye, I can see that it is,” Mr. Wilcox replied. “I knew yer father, and yer grandfather both. Yer grandfather was a good man. T’was a sad loss to all of us here at Pemberley when he died,” he concluded, staring pointedly at George’s dark armband even as he omitted any sentiments regarding the more recently deceased.

“George will be needing a mount, Wilcox,” Tom declared.

“Aye, and so Mr. Darcy and me discussed givin’ ‘em Midnight,” he replied, gesturing for the boys to proceed him into the cavernous stables. “I said t’was like to be too much horse for ‘em, but perhaps young Wickham can handle her,” he concluded, looking the boy up and down in assessment.

“I am to have a horse of my own?” George questioned in awed surprised. “It is quite beyond anything I ever dreamed!”

“You cannot go over the land and learn it like the back of yer hand, as ye will need to if ye are to be steward here one day, without a horse. Pemberley is ten miles round the perimeter, and ye will cover a great many more, crisscrossing about it. Have ye a good seat?”

“I have been told I have some natural aptitude, but I have had little opportunity to practice.”

Mr. Wilcox nodded in approval. “Yer father was a picture on horseback, I’ll say that for ‘em. Took to it like he was born in the saddle. I taught ‘em to ride myself,” he said with a reminiscent chuckle.

“You did?” George asked, surprised less by the revelation than by the sudden hint of fondness in the old stable master’s manner.

“Aye. A charmin’ little scamp. Had us all wrapped round his finger, he did, and none more so than late Mr. Darcy. He could have made something proper for himself, with all those advantages, but instead he squandered it.” He narrowed his eyes at the boy. “‘Tis quite a thing, another Darcy giving another Wickham such a start in the world. ‘Tis the wish of all of us who knew this place of old that their generosity be better rewarded this time.”

“It will be, sir,” George unhesitatingly replied.

The old man grunted and said, “This is Midnight. She’s a beauty and of fine lineage, easy goin’ and good endurance. A large horse for a boy yer age, but like I said, perhaps ye can handle her.”

“She is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen,” he replied, gazing into the horses eyes in awe. When he reached out and stroked her muzzle, she whinnied softly in approval.

“I see ye two will hit it off alright. Will ye be joinin’ the young masters in the morn?”

“Oh, yes!” George replied softly, still enrapt with Midnight.

Wilcox chuckled. “Very well then. She’ll be ready for ye.”

“We were wondering, Wilcox, if you knew anything about the breach between George’s father and my own.”

“Aye, but nothin’ I’d be sayin’ to ye, young Master. Ye finished yer business here and be on yer way.”

“What could he have done so very bad as to be banished from the estate for life?” Tom persisted.

“He was always a trouble maker, young Wickham that was. Let it be a lesson to both ye boys that evil begets evil. I’ll say no more.”

Nor would he, no matter how Tom pled. Dejected, he finally gave up. “Come on, George. We might as well go back to the house. It must be nearly time to change for dinner.”

George thanked Mr. Wilcox and wished him a good evening before turning to follow Tom. “Will the evening meal be very formal?” he asked, betraying some nervousness.

“Yes a bit, but we are just the family. You do know a salad fork when you see one and not to put your knife in your mouth?”

“Yes,” affirmed George.

“Then you will be fine. If you are uncertain of any etiquette I should not hide it, if I were you. Mama will want to know of any deficiencies you have so that they may be amended before we do have proper company.”

“I should not dream of it.”

“Good. We had best hurry. Dinner starts promptly at seven, and Father will be ever so cross if we are late.”

George need not be told twice. Both boys ran the half mile back to the house, their hurry turning into a playful race as they went. Tom, though taller, only barely beat George to the front door. “Good show!” he exclaimed, panting and patting George on the back. “I have not had such fun since Mark last visited.”

“Mark?” George asked.

“Yes, Mark Bingley. He is your cousin, too, of course.”

“Of course.”

“He is the best of fellows. The whole family, and there are an enormous number of Bingleys, will be here on Saturday to meet you.”

“So many new sights, experiences, and relations!” George exclaimed. “It is too much!”

Tom laughed. “I shall see you through it, Cousin. Have no fear.” He extended his hand and George shook it warmly before they both entered the house and scrambled off to their individual rooms.

_________________________

Come back tomorrow to read Part Four!

 A 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!