"I should take him, even on my slight acquaintance, to be an ill-tempered man."
Wickham only shook his head.
"I wonder," said he, at the next opportunity of speaking, "whether he is likely
to be in this country much longer."
"I do not at all know; but I heard nothing of his going away when I was at
Netherfield. I hope your plans in favour of the ----shire will not be affected by
his being in the neighbourhood."
"Oh! no -- it is not for me to be driven away by Mr. Darcy.
If he wishes to avoid seeing me, he must go. We are not on friendly terms,
and it always gives me pain to meet him, but I have no reason for avoiding him
but what I might proclaim to all the world; a sense of very great ill-usage, and
most painful regrets at his being what he is. His father, Miss Bennet, the late
Mr. Darcy, was one of the best men that ever breathed, and the truest friend I ever
had; and I can never be in company with this Mr. Darcy without being grieved to
the soul by a thousand tender recollections. His behaviour to myself has been scandalous;
but I verily believe I could forgive him any thing and every thing, rather than
his disappointing the hopes and disgracing the memory of his father."
Elizabeth found the interest of the subject increase, and listened with all her
heart; but the delicacy of it prevented farther inquiry.
Mr. Wickham began to speak on more general topics, Meryton, the neighbourhood,
the society, appearing highly pleased with all that he had yet seen, and speaking
of the latter especially, with gentle but very intelligible gallantry.
"It was the prospect of constant society, and good society," he added, "which
was my chief inducement to enter the ----shire.
I knew it to be a most respectable, agreeable corps, and my friend Denny tempted
me farther by his account of their present quarters, and the very great attentions
and excellent acquaintance Meryton had procured them. Society, I own, is necessary
to me. I have been a disappointed man, and my spirits will not bear solitude. I
must have employment and society. A military life is not what I was intended for,
but circumstances have now made it eligible. The church ought to have been my
profession -- I was brought up for the church, and I should at this time have been
in possession of a most valuable living, had it pleased the gentleman we were speaking
of just now."
"Yes -- the late Mr. Darcy bequeathed me the next presentation of the best living
in his gift. He was my godfather, and excessively attached to me. I cannot do justice
to his kindness. He meant to provide for me amply, and thought he had done it; but
when the living fell, it was given elsewhere."
"Good heavens!" cried Elizabeth; "but how could that be? -- How could his will
be disregarded? -- Why did not you seek legal redress?"
"There was just such an informality in the terms of the bequest as to give me
no hope from law. A man of honour could not have doubted the intention, but Mr.
Darcy chose to doubt it -- or to treat it as a merely conditional recommendation,
and to assert that I had forfeited all claim to it by extravagance, imprudence,
in short any thing or nothing. Certain it is, that the living became vacant two
years ago, exactly as I was of an age to hold it, and that it was given to another
man; and no less certain is it, that I cannot accuse myself of having really done
any thing to deserve to lose it. I have a warm, unguarded temper, and I may perhaps
have sometimes spoken my opinion of him, and to him, too freely. I can recall
nothing worse. But the fact is, that we are very different sort of men, and that
he hates me."
"This is quite shocking! -- He deserves to be publicly disgraced."
"Some time or other he will be -- but it shall not be by me. Till I can forget
his father, I can never defy or expose him."
Elizabeth honoured him for such feelings, and thought him handsomer than ever
as he expressed them.
"But what," said she after a pause, "can have been his motive?
-- what can have induced him to behave so cruelly?"
"A thorough, determined dislike of me -- a dislike which I cannot but attribute
in some measure to jealousy. Had the late Mr. Darcy liked me less, his son might
have borne with me better; but his father's uncommon attachment to me, irritated
him I believe very early in life. He had not a temper to bear the sort of competition
in which we stood -- the sort of preference which was often given me."
"I had not thought Mr. Darcy so bad as this -- though I have never liked him,
I had not thought so very ill of him -- I had supposed him to be despising his fellow-creatures
in general, but did not suspect him of descending to such malicious revenge, such
injustice, such inhumanity as this!"
After a few minutes reflection, however, she continued, "I do remember his
boasting one day, at Netherfield, of the implacability of his resentments, of his
having an unforgiving temper. His disposition must be dreadful."
"I will not trust myself on the subject," replied Wickham, "I can hardly be
just to him."
Elizabeth was again deep in thought, and after a time exclaimed, "To treat in
such a manner, the godson, the friend, the favourite of his father!" -- She could
have added, "A young man too, like you, whose very countenance may vouch for your
being amiable" -- but she contented herself with "And one, too, who had probably
been his own companion from childhood, connected together, as I think you said,
in the closest manner!"
"We were born in the same parish, within the same park, the greatest part of
our youth was passed together; inmates of the same house, sharing the same amusements,
objects of the same parental care. My father began life in the profession which
your uncle, Mr. Philips, appears to do so much credit to -- but he gave up every
thing to be of use to the late Mr. Darcy, and devoted all his time to the care of
the Pemberley property. He was most highly esteemed by Mr. Darcy, a most intimate,
confidential friend. Mr. Darcy often acknowledged. himself to be under the greatest
obligations to my father's active superintendance, and when immediately before my
father's death, Mr. Darcy gave him a voluntary promise of providing for me, I am
convinced that he felt it to be as much a debt of gratitude to him, as of affection
"How strange!" cried Elizabeth. "How abominable! -- I wonder that the very pride
of this Mr. Darcy has not made him just to you! -- If from no better motive, that
he should not have been too proud to be dishonest, -- for dishonesty I must call
"It is wonderful," -- replied Wickham, -- "for almost all his actions may be
traced to pride; -- and pride has often been his best friend. It has connected him
nearer with virtue than any other feeling. But we are none of us consistent; and
in his behaviour to me, there were stronger impulses even than pride."
"Can such abominable pride as his, have ever done him good?"
"Yes. It has often led him to be liberal and generous, -- to give his money freely,
to display hospitality, to assist his tenants, and relieve the poor. Family pride,
and filial pride, for he is very proud of what his father was, have done this.
Not to appear to disgrace his family, to degenerate from the popular qualities,
or lose the influence of the Pemberley House, is a powerful motive. He has also
brotherly pride, which with some brotherly affection, makes him a very kind
and careful guardian of his sister; and you will hear him generally cried up as
the most attentive and best of brothers."
"What sort of a girl is Miss Darcy,?"
He shook his head. -- "I wish I could call her amiable. It gives me pain to speak
ill of a Darcy. But she is too much like her brother, -- very, very proud. -- As
a child, she was affectionate and pleasing, and extremely fond of me; and I have
devoted hours and hours to her amusement. But she is nothing to me now. She is a
handsome girl, about fifteen or sixteen, and, I understand, highly accomplished.
Since her father's death, her home has been London, where a lady lives with her,
and superintends her education."
After many pauses and many trials of other subjects, Elizabeth could not help
reverting once more to the first, and saying, "I am astonished at his intimacy with
Mr. Bingley! How can Mr. Bingley, who seems good humour itself, and is, I really
believe, truly amiable, be in friendship with such a man? How can they suit each
other? -- Do you know Mr. Bingley?"
"Not at all."
"He is a sweet tempered, amiable, charming man. He cannot know what Mr. Darcy
"Probably not; -- but Mr. Darcy can please where he chuses. He does not want
abilities. He can be a conversible companion if he thinks it worth his while. Among
those who are at all his equals in consequence, he is a very different man from
what he is to the less prosperous. His pride never deserts him; but with the rich,
he is liberal-minded, just, sincere, rational, honourable, and perhaps agreeable,
-- allowing something for fortune and figure."
The whist party soon afterwards breaking up, the players gathered round the other
table, and Mr. Collins took his station between his cousin Elizabeth and Mrs. Philips.
-- The usual inquiries as to his success were made by the latter. It had not been
very great; he had lost every point; but when Mrs. Philips began to express her
concern thereupon, he assured her with much earnest gravity that it was not of the
least importance, that he considered the money as a mere trifle, and begged she
would not make herself uneasy.