Trouble With Wickham (12 page)

Lady Catherine continued on. “To this end, I would like to present Fitzwilliam with a token of my esteem and affection for him. It is an item that I hope will stir within his bosom the memory of many happy days at Rosings Park.”

She looked to the door. In the hallway, a servant stood awaiting her signal. She nodded slightly.

He walked toward the table, holding in his hands a large item draped in a burlap cloth and stopped behind Mr. Darcy. He waited a moment for further instructions.

“Stand up Fitzwilliam please, and face me, so I can see your expression,” his aunt requested. Mr. Darcy humbly did as he was told.

She motioned to the servant to remove the covering, and as he did so the party gasped to see the large winged falcon frozen in time.

Elizabeth’s hand shot to her mouth in a look of horror that she was unable to suppress. In that moment Lady Catherine saw, with delight, that her gift had had its intended effect.

Charlotte laughed outright at the look of shock on her friend’s face and then quickly grabbed her linen napkin and held it to her face, and feigned a small coughing attack to hide her laughter. As a hostess, she did not want to be perceived as laughing at either of her guests. Guy facilitated her ruse by jumping up and slapping her several times on the back with a bored look on his face, as if this type of coughing episode happened often between them.

Fitzwilliam Darcy was as astonished at the odd trophy awarded to him as he was at the somewhat public spectacle his aunt was making. Anxious for his aunt to sit back down he quickly registered and then expressed the appropriate degree of surprise and gratitude. His natural good breeding made such a response look effortless.

Nevertheless, he sensed his aunt expected more from his reaction. And that was the trouble with Lady Catherine, Fitzwilliam thought ruefully—always expecting more, more, more.

Hugh Radcliffe, who watched the scene with amusement, felt compelled to step in and take control. He could not prevent Lady Catherine from using their home as a platform for abusing her own relatives, but he could control how long he allowed her to wield her weaponry. He rose quickly and spoke loudly.

“What a marvelous gift! Mr. Darcy, Lady Catherine, would you do me the honor of accompanying me out into the hall, where I would like to place this wonderful, uh, memento, in a place of honor?” He motioned the falcon-bearing servant toward the entry hall, and Lady Catherine and Mr. Darcy dutifully followed after him.

Hugh directed the servant to a lacquered commode set immediately inside the main doorway, on which seasonal displays of flora and fauna graciously greeted all those who entered. Hugh slid a porcelain cachepot containing such an arrangement from its center position over to the side, making room on the commode for the falcon. The servant gently placed the bird down as directed.

“There, it will be safe and secure as well as prominently displayed here,” Hugh explained. “And plainly visible to all arriving for the ball tomorrow night!” He sensed correctly that Lady Catherine expected flattery, praise and notice from the general public for her generosity. Additionally, he saw the comic value of such an unsuitable wedding gift and thought he would personally enjoy observing the shock of the fine ladies of Meryton as they entered the great hall only to be greeted by a large dead piece of fowl. He anticipated his mother objecting to the falcon’s placement, but if it came down to it he planned to offer her an enticing bribe in order to have his fun.

Lady Catherine sharply examined the placement of the falcon.

“It is too far to the left.”

Hugh moved it to the right.

She frowned. “The vase takes away from the bird’s wild, primitive beauty. Remove it.”

Hugh directed the servant to remove the heavy cachepot.

“Drop that off in the potting room,” he dismissed him.

Lady Catherine examined the table with an artist’s eye. “Neither should there be a candelabra with lit flames so close to it.”

Hugh blew out the candles and removed the small candelabra.

Only then was Lady Catherine satisfied. She clapped her hands together in delight. “Yes, splendid! What a view your guests will have as they enter the ball tomorrow night!”

“My thoughts exactly,” Hugh beamed in delight and anticipation. “May I have a card written out describing the item as a wedding gift from yourself to the Darcy family?”

Lady Catherine could not have been more impressed with Hugh. She gazed at him with admiration.

What an obedient young man,
she thought.
How willing he is to be guided by my suggestions
!

She began to think of other improvements to the entry hall of Bennington Park that he might adopt. The pale green paper hangings that covered the entry walls, for instance, of Chinese origin and obviously expensive, were not to her taste. When Anne was installed as mistress those hangings would be the first to go, she decided.

She directed her attention back to her nephew who had stood aloofly nearby the whole time. “Oh Fitzwilliam I forgot you were here, you’ve been so quiet boy! Doesn’t the falcon take you back to your wonderful stays at Rosings! Oh, remember when Sir Lewis was alive?”

“Indeed it does. I am quite overcome by the memories,” he lied.

In truth, Mr. Darcy was more than a little taken aback at the gift. He had always commented on the falcon in a casual manner, as a way of making conversation and surely, according to his recollection, not displaying any specific preference for the bird. Somehow, his commenting must have led his aunt to believe that he desired to bring the creature home with him, which he definitely did not.

Nevertheless, the gift was a generous gesture on his aunt’s part. He appreciated the effort it must have taken to strap in such a bulky item amongst the luggage and paraphernalia that a long journey required. He knew he would have no peace unless she felt convinced of his delight. He looked his aunt in the eye and thanked her again.

“I lack the proper words to sum up my feelings right now,” he added, making a mental note to thank her repeatedly over the next few days until his gratitude grated.

Mr. Darcy was equally grateful to Hugh for his deft redirection of the party’s attention away from his beloved, beleaguered wife. He realized with regret that not only must he fight to keep Wickham away from Georgiana, but it appeared he would have to fortress Elizabeth from his aunt’s jabs as well. It was not beyond Mr. Darcy’s notice that his own relations were causing him the lion’s share of consternation and grief that evening.

Observing the tense set of Mr. Darcy’s jaw and his marked silence, Hugh raised his eyebrow and said to him, “An after dinner port back at the table?” to which Mr. Darcy eagerly nodded yes.

Immediately upon the trio’s quitting the dining room with the falcon Lady Radcliffe stood up and took control of the room.

“Shall we move back to the drawing room?” indicating that the women should follow her while the men stayed back to indulge in port and cigars.

Lydia took advantage of Mr. Darcy’s absence to corner Elizabeth. She linked her arm in her sister’s.

“What a grand home this is! How does it compare to Pemberley?”

“It is equal in terms of furnishing and room sizes,” Elizabeth affirmed.

Lydia persisted.

“How I do long to see it.” She added a soft sigh, for affect.

Elizabeth tried to be gentle and understanding with her sister while dancing around the real reason she and Wickham were barred from Pemberley. This edict on her husband’s part caused Elizabeth only a small amount of discomfort, as keeping Lydia at a distance was a request she found quite easy to fulfill. Plus she saw the color rise in her beloved’s Fitzwilliam’s face every time Lydia’s name was mentioned. Fitzwilliam had done the right thing for Lydia where Wickham was concerned, all the while knowing that his love for Elizabeth might tie him permanently to a man he despised. That sacrifice made Darcy unimpeachable in Elizabeth’s eyes. She patted her sister on the hand consolingly.

“How I love to come home to Longbourn instead. It is like old times when I do.” Since her marriage Elizabeth tried to make up for the snub by making regularly scheduled visits to the Bennet family home. “And with the baby it is too difficult to undertake the journey, don’t you agree?”

Longbourn, however, was not Pemberley and the snub chafed at Lydia.

“No. I do not need to bring Georgie with me! I am happy to leave him in mother’s care,” she insisted.

“The baby is welcome, but his father, sadly, is not. As we will not separate Wickham from his child I am afraid a visit at this time is impossible. Must we discuss it here Lydia?”

“Yes, we must,” Lydia hissed. She considered it very rude of Mr. Darcy to hold a grudge against her Wickham. As to the nature of the grudge, she could not guess and had never been informed.

“Don’t you agree that as a Christian it is Mr. Darcy’s duty to forgive my Wickham for whatever he has against him!”

“Mr. Darcy is all forgiveness,” Elizabeth replied. “Further acquaintance is not desired on his end, as he is quite decided that George’s company can bring him no joy.”

“How can you not speak up for me?” Lydia whined.

Elizabeth was forced to be firm with her sister. “One day, when my husband’s mind is not so set against George, perhaps you and he will be invited. In the meantime, I would not advise holding one’s breath where Fitzwilliam is concerned. We can always meet at the Inn at Lambton.”

“But the Inn at Lambton is not Pemberley.”

“It is a fine establishment, and its owners have catered to Fitzwilliam’s family for generations.”

“But it is not fair that little G be denied visiting Pemberley, when even the public has access to its grounds and public rooms for a shilling and when his father spent his own childhood there! How can he deprive my little angel of the same good air and pleasant meadows? The senior Mr. Darcy was surely a kind man whose own son’s cruelty towards us must vex him in his grave! Surely he can not mean to deny us.”

“Oh stop Lydia. Must you be so dramatic? The conversation is closed,” Elizabeth snapped.

Lydia abruptly dropped her sister’s arm and, undeterred, walked over to where Georgiana Darcy sat calmly near the fire.

“I love your gown Miss Darcy!” she gushed. “I have never seen velvet trim such as that in the local shops.”

“Why thank you Mrs. Wickham,” Georgiana purred. “It’s from a dress shop in London.  Have you been lately?”

“Sadly not since we came back.”

“And how are you enjoying Bennington Park?” Georgiana inquired. “I find it very picturesque.”

“Very much! Is it much like Pemberley?”

“In some ways,” Georgiana replied modestly.

“I would love to see Pemberley. I am sure it must come as a great surprise to you to learn that I have not yet been invited! What with the baby and all George and I simply couldn’t get away. You must convince your brother to have George and I and little Georgie come visit you at Pemberley soon! I am simply dying to see it!”

Georgiana’s face remained perfectly composed as Lydia prattled on. She knew how to handle Lydia Bennet, if Elizabeth did not.

“Why certainly Lydia! You shall come to Pemberley. I will talk to my brother about it, but in private,” she said with deliberation. “Say no more of the matter tonight, and pray that he not see you entreating me, or be seen plotting with me, for he will know then that you put me up to it and harden his heart against you. Let him think the idea all my own.” She backed up her words by nodding encouragingly to Lydia as she spoke.

Lydia’s heart surged with love for the pretty Georgiana. Surely, she was a thousand degrees nicer than her own unyielding and stubborn sister, and she whispered loudly in her ear, “I wish you were my sister instead of Elizabeth.”

“You mustn’t wish such things,” Georgiana whispered back.

“But I can’t help it,” Lydia pouted, adding, “Thank you so much,” she said, and she gave Georgiana a quick peck on the cheek before strutting across the floor and pointedly sitting as far across the room from her as possible. She would do whatever she could while in her presence to please the wonderful Miss Georgiana Darcy, Lydia decided. She had secured her seat just in time for the Mooreton boys to wander into the drawing room and attach their selves to her like flies.

The rest of the evening was spent in quiet chatter and card games, all interspersed by the intermittent shrieking of Lydia Wickham and the persistent bellowing of Lady Catherine, until the prospect of the morning hunt forced the party to disperse and head to their rooms for the night.

I
n his Bennington Park guest room Wickham fell deeply asleep, fully clothed in his suit coat and boots, face down on the bed. Lydia quickly pulled his boots off for fear of being kicked in the night, discovered and quickly hid the piece of cutlery she found inside, and let her husband lie there—right where he had flopped—undisturbed. She liked having George passed out where she could see him. She had requested a light bedtime snack for herself, which had just been delivered, and she sat happily in the comfortable bed, with her night cap on, nibbling her treats, in a room smelling of lavender and soap, completely content—at least for the moment.

For Lydia Wickham could never be completely content until she too was allowed to share in the lifestyle she saw her older sisters ascending to.

How unfair life was!

When she married George Wickham her sister Elizabeth had been but a prejudiced, opinionated young woman with a sharp tongue and no obvious prospects. Her sister had repeatedly stated that she despised Mr. Darcy. On the other hand, Elizabeth had demonstrated a certain degree of affection and favor for George Wickham that she made no pains to hide. Lydia herself had noticed Wickham’s gaze travel to wherever Elizabeth stood in the room. She definitely remembered an evening at Charlotte Lucas’ home where Wickham and Elizabeth were deeply engaged in conversation with each other, to the exclusion of all others.

So what a coup it had been for her to steal George Wickham from her sister and make him her husband instead!  How she wished she could have seen her sister’s face fall in jealousy when the news reached her that George Wickham had whisked her away.