It awakened all my resentful feelings.
‘Darcy has always been that way. Even as a boy he treated me like a servant, not like an equal. He thought I would grow up to manage his estate. Can you imagine it? Me, to spend my life worrying about which trees to cut down and which trees to plant and which fields to put out to pasture? To think about incomings and outgoings?’
Matthew roared with laughter.
‘If it was anything like the incomings and outgoings of your own pocket, the estate would be ruined in half a year! But won’t he give you something? Surely, George, you must have some pressure you can bring to bear?’
‘His father did promise me a living,’ I said thoughtfully.
Matthew laughed even louder than before.
‘What! He wanted you to be a clergyman? A fine job you would make of that!’
‘I know,’ I said, laughing too. ‘It would never do. But it is a pity. The living would have meant a lot to me, or rather to my pockets.’
‘Then ask him to give you the money instead.’
I looked at him in surprise.
‘I didn’t know you had a brain, Matthew.’
‘Needs must, old fellow,’ he said, taking a drink and savouring it. ‘Needs must.’
‘He would not give me anything just for the asking, that much I know, but perhaps there is a way.’
I thought about it, and then I went over to my desk and, dipping my quill in the ink and pulling a piece of paper towards me, I began to write.
After some preamble, hoping that both he and Georgiana were well and that the estate was prospering, I continued:
I have been giving some thought to my future and I have decided not to go into the church, and so I have decided to relinquish all claims to the living your father so generously promised me. I hope you will now be able to bestow it elsewhere.
I hope you will not think it unreasonable of me to ask for some kind of pecuniary advantage, instead of the living. I mean to go into the law, and as you are aware, the interest on one thousand pounds—the sum your father generously left me—does not go very far.
I went on to speak of generalities and then ended the letter, sanding it and folding it and sending it out at once to the mail.
‘And now, let us go out and celebrate,’ said Matthew. ‘I have had some luck on the horses, and I mean to spend the evening in style.’
That is the good thing about Matthew. He might not be in the funds very often, but when he is, he is willing to share what he has.
We went first to an inn and then to a brothel, where we enjoyed ourselves immensely, and did not stumble home again ’til first light.
12th April 1795
At last, a letter from Darcy. It was stiff and formal in tone, with no hint of the friendship we once shared. However, he has offered me the sum of three thousand pounds to relinquish all claims to the living, both now and in the future, and I have accepted his terms. With three thousand pounds I can pay all my creditors and have some fun into the bargain.
Matthew called round and I told him it was my turn to treat him. We went to Vauxhall Gardens on the strength of my future riches, where we drank rack punch and followed the garishly dressed women into the dimly lit walks. There was plenty of fun to be had with them and we took full advantage of it.
At last we tired of them and returned to the more brightly lit areas. As we returned to our booth, a woman close by caught my eye. She was evidently a courtesan, well dressed and extremely beautiful, with thick dark hair and almond-shaped eyes. She felt me looking at her and turned towards me. She smiled, and I smiled back. She made some excuse to the man she was with and slipped out of her booth. I turned into one of the secluded corners of the Gardens and she followed me.
‘Well?’ I said.
‘Well?’ she said.
And then I kissed her and she kissed me back fervently, and we were soon lost to the world. At last, our hunger satisfied, we began to dress ourselves. She began to talk. She was witty and lively, mimicking her protector and saying she was tired of him. He was old and fat and she had a mind for someone younger. I told her, regretfully, that she was above my touch, even with my newfound funds, and she said that she was rich enough to settle for no more than a set of rooms for a while if I had a mind to take them for her.
We settled the thing then and there. She went back to the booth, where she told her lover their affair was at an end, and then went home with me, where we proceeded to enjoy ourselves some more, and then to learn something about each other.
‘Belle,’ I said musingly, when we lay back on the bed together. ‘A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.’
‘It is,’ she said, then she began to laugh.
‘What’s the matter?’ I asked.
‘My real name’s Gerty!’ she said. ‘Gerty Bertwhistle!’
We rolled on the bed, laughing, and could not stop. At last I wiped the tears from my eyes and said, ‘Welcome, Gerty, to my humble abode. May you always make me laugh as much as you have tonight.’
‘And may you always be as young and handsome as you are tonight,’ she said.
‘I’ll drink to that.’
She joined me in the toast and we did not fall asleep until the bottle was empty.
1796
15th August 1796
Alas, Gerty and I have had to part. It has been coming for some time, for my pockets have become increasingly empty, and she has stayed with me for much longer than I could have expected, but now at last we have had to go our separate ways.
‘You will soon find another protector,’ I said.
‘Yes, I think I will,’ she said, studying herself critically in the mirror. ‘But this will be the last one. My looks are going, and it’s no life for a woman when she gets old.’
‘What will you do afterwards?’ I asked her.
‘Who knows? Find a merchant to marry, maybe, or set up in business, perhaps. I might open a hat shop or a dress shop. You look after yourself, Georgie.’
‘And you.’
She blew me a kiss and left without more ado.
I regretted her going. I have grown used to her. But there are plenty more women in the world, and all I have to do is to walk out of the door to find them.
More difficult is the question of how I am going to live. The money I had from Darcy is gone, and my credit is so long that, sooner or later, my creditors are going to start pressing me. I will have to live by my wits, for I have nothing else left to me, save my charm and my handsome face. And so between the three of them, they must earn me my keep and something more besides. They must earn me my future.
1798
18th August 1798
Once again I awoke to find a line of creditors at my door. I packed my bags hastily and slipped down the back stairs, only to find them waiting for me there as well.
And so I find myself in debtor’s prison. I am only surprised I managed to avoid it for so long. My pockets are to let, my bills unpaid, and I have nowhere to turn.
23rd August 1798
At last! A piece of luck. I heard by chance that the living I should have had is vacant, the incumbent having recently died. I decided I would write to Darcy and remind him of the fact. I told him that I had decided against the law and decided instead to follow my original plan of being ordained and going into the church. I told him, too, that my circumstances were exceedingly bad and reminded him that his father intended me to have the Pemberley living. Then I posted the letter.
I only hope he helps me soon, for I am tired of kicking my heels in here and want to be out in life once again.
27th August 1798
I have had a reply from Darcy, and what a reply! To think that the boy I once went swimming with and fishing with could speak to me in such terms! He, who is no better than me, save for the fact that he was born into the Darcy cradle and not the cradle marked Wickham. How dare he? How dare he write me such a letter? How dare he refuse me the living and, what is more, say I am not fit to have it? Ho
w dare he refuse to help me, when it will cost him nothing? And how can he sit there in Pemberley, with not a care in the world, and leave me to the mercy of my creditors?
I was so angry I wrote and told him that his father would be ashamed of him and sent the letter straightaway. Once my anger had cooled I regretted it, for it would do no good and would only rouse his resentment, but it was done and could not be undone.
1799
21st January 1799
I mastered my anger and wrote again to Darcy, asking him to reconsider and reminding him again that it was his father’s wish I should be provided for—reminding him, too, of the happy times we shared as boys. I only hope I said enough to make him change his mind.
23rd January 1799
Another refusal from Darcy. Damn him!
27th January 1799
I have written now three times to Darcy and each time he sends the same reply: that I must not expect anything further from him, that he has helped me all he intends to help me, and that I must now face up to the consequences of my actions and mend my ways before it is too late.
To hear him preaching to me made my blood boil. I was about to write to him again, angrily, for what did I have to lose, when something happened which distracted me. There was, visiting the prison, a woman who had come to bail out her sister. She cast an approving eye over me and I smiled in return. She spoke to me, I bowed to her, and the upshot is that she paid my bills and I am now living with her in her house.
‘Why should I not have a pretty face to look at?’ she asked, as she introduced me comfortably to her friends. ‘I was a good wife to my dear David, God bless him, and now that he’s gone I want a bit of fun.’
It is a strange turn of events, and not one I wish to last, but for now, she is undemanding, generous, and appreciative, and it will do.
5th February 1799
I have grown tired of living off Mrs Dawson and her friends and I must think of another way to live. If one last appeal to Darcy does no good then I must find an heiress. And, fortunately, I know where one is to be found, for Anne de Bourgh is in Kent, and so to Kent I am bound.
27th February 1799
I arrived at the inn shortly after midday and took a room, then set about making discreet enquiries. I hoped to learn at what time Anne went out for her rides, so that I could happen to meet her and renew our friendship, but instead I learnt that the family were not at home.
I quickly conquered my disappointment and decided to look over the estate. I wanted to cheer myself by imagining my future as its lord and master. All problems of courting her under her mother’s nose I chose, for the moment, to put aside.
I therefore set out, on horseback, and I was soon at the entrance to the park. It was magnificent. As I rode up the drive I could easily see myself as master of such an abode. The grounds would be ideal for house parties, for there would be plenty to do. Boating on the lake, fishing in the river, playing cricket on the lawn… and there was ample scope for children, too, with large trees to climb and all manner of outbuildings to hide in.
Indeed, by the time I had arrived at the door I already felt myself so much master of the house that I had no hesitation in going inside, where the housekeeper welcomed me warmly and said that she would be glad to show me round, for the family were in Bath on account of Miss Anne’s health.
‘It is a very fine house, Sir, the finest in Kent.’
‘Is that so?’
‘Oh, yes, Sir, the very finest, everyone knows it for such hereabouts. The de Bourghs have lived here for five hundred years, the name passing down through sons and daughters, for there is no entailment on the estate and so no difficulty about a female inheriting. The only stipulation is that the husband of any heiress of Rosings should take the family name.’
‘Indeed?’ I said, whilst thinking expansively, I shall be George de Bourgh.
‘Oh, yes, indeed, sir, the family do not want the name to die out, you see.’
She stopped in front of the portraits hanging in the hall.
‘That picture is of the present owner, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. The picture was to commemorate her wedding day.’
I looked at the picture of Lady Catherine, looking young and noble, and beside her Sir Lewis, a handsome young man with blue eyes and an amiable expression.
‘And next to them is a portrait of their daughter, Miss Anne.’
I looked at the portrait and I was reminded of Anne as she was before her father’s death, for although her pose was formal, there was laughter round her mouth and in her eyes.
If I could bring that Anne back I would have an amusing as well as a wealthy wife, and why should I not? As Mama was always so fond of saying, I could charm the birds from the trees.
We went into the drawing-room, and I admired its dimensions, which were truly impressive, and looked out onto the park. The view was discussed, and then we went over the rest of the house, or at least, all that was on display to visitors.
‘Well, sir, what do you think of it, is it not the finest house you have seen?’
‘It is excellent,’ I said. ‘I should not mind living here myself.’
She laughed, and I thought, We will laugh together when I return here as the master. It is a story she will tell to my children and grandchildren. When your father first came here, I showed him around the house and he said he should not mind living here himself. His words proved to be prophetic, for he married Miss Anne and now he is living here.
When I had seen all there was to be seen I left the house, well pleased with my visit. I was so eager to have the place for my own that I decided not to wait for Anne to return; I decided to follow her to Bath.
1st March 1799
I have put my time in Bath to good use and I have discovered that Lady Catherine is staying in Laura Place. Miss Anne takes the waters at ten o’clock each morning and I mean to see here there tomorrow.
2nd March 1799
I was at the Pump Room by a quarter to ten and I contented myself with strolling round until I saw Anne enter the room out of the corner of my eye. To my delight she was not with her mother but was instead with her companion. I walked over to the Pump, timing myself so that I arrived there with Anne.
‘Why, if it isn’t Miss Anne!’ I said in feigned surprise.
‘Mr Wickham,’ she said, with real surprise.
‘What a strange chance meeting you here. What brings you to Bath?’
‘I am here to drink the waters. My health is not good, alas.’
‘I am here for the same purpose. I have had one or two trifling ailments recently and my physician felt it would set me up to come to Bath for a few weeks.’
We both took our glasses of the water and I was forced to drink the noxious stuff. I tried not to grimace, and Anne did the same, and we laughed together.
‘It is horrible, is it not?’ I said.
‘It is,’ she agreed.
‘Look, over there, there is a chair, Miss Anne,’ said her companion, trying to get her away from me.
But I was not to be so easily shaken.
‘Let me escort you,’ I said.
I gave her my arm and led her to the chair. Her companion glowered at me but I ignored her sour looks and said, ‘I was very sorry to hear about Mr Darcy—old Mr Darcy, that is. It was a sad loss when he passed away.’
‘Oh yes, it was,’ she said.
‘He was always a great friend to me,’ I said respectfully. ‘I believe he loved me almost as another son, and in return I loved him almost as another father. He had high hopes for me, and it has been the purpose of my life to make sure that I realise his dreams. He gave me the benefit of a gentleman’s education and a gentleman’s life at Pemberley, and I will always be thankful to him for his generosity in both deed and spirit.’
She smiled and said he had always been very kind to her, and the companion looked somewhat mollified at the idea that I was a gentleman and an intimate at Pemberley.
We were just beginning to get along
very well when Lady Catherine arrived, throwing a gloom over the whole party. Anne’s expression, which had started to become more animated, closed entirely, and the companion seemed ill at ease.
Lady Catherine looked at me pointedly.
‘Your face is familiar,’ she said.
‘George Wickham,’ I said, bowing. ‘I had the pleasure of meeting you at Pemberley.’
‘Ah, yes, I remember now,’ she said, and I felt myself begin to relax. But then she said dismissively, ‘The steward’s son.’ Then, turning away from me she said, ‘Come, Anne, finish your drink; we are due at Lady Eleanor’s in half an hour.’
Anne finished the noxious liquid and then, without so much as a glance at me, followed her mother from the room.
I do not intend to be so easily dismissed, however. I am sure that Anne is willing to know me, even if her mother is not. I discovered from other visitors that Miss de Bourgh frequents the library on a Thursday afternoon, and so, on Thursday, to the library I shall go.
5th March 1799
I was at the library in good time and, once again, I feigned surprise on seeing Anne. But this time there was no complaisance on the part of her companion.
‘Mr Wickham, we will bid you good day,’ she said. ‘Miss de Bourgh, you know your Mama said we were not to be above ten minutes. We must change your books and then be on our way.’
I tried to start a conversation but it was no good. Anne was anxious, her companion watchful, and I had to withdraw with good grace.