The Beginning of Hope

Part 8

George Wickham strolled comfortably up the driveway towards an elegant-looking country house, his sureness of welcome lifting his mood. It was not a certainty, of course, for if this family had any degree of interaction with Darcy, who knew what rumours they had heard? His smile dropped. Worse still, if they associated with Egerton they might have heard more than mere rumour...

He paused, mid-stride, wondering about the wisdom of his decision to call on a family to whom he was still little more than a stranger, but before he could turn and retrace his steps, retreating without notice, a sharp rap on a window arrested him. He had been seen. Swallowing his nerves, he affixed the widest smile he could summon to his lips and raised a hand in greeting to the pretty, snub-nosed young lady who was presently waving enthusiastically for him to approach the doorway.

At least I am guaranteed one admirer, he thought, with a rueful sigh. Lydia Bennet had been impossibly easy to charm. Too easy, really, and he ought to have resisted the challenge, for he had succeeded in putting poor Denny's nose entirely out of joint in winning Miss Lydia's admiration. It was not Lydia Bennet Wickham most longed to see, of course, but her sister.

He knocked at the door and was ushered into the parlour, whereupon he found almost the entire family in various positions of repose. His eyes swept the room, counting its inhabitants and it was only then that he recognised the absence of two of the young ladies he had anticipated finding at home.

"Good afternoon, Wickham!" Lydia said, beaming at him with undue familiarity. An older gentleman - Mr Bennet, if Wickham was not much mistaken - cleared his throat pointedly from behind the new arrival, and Wickham turned to greet him with a stiff bow, ignoring the disappointed sniff from Lydia at being thus passed over for another.

"Mr Bennet." Wickham straightened, smiling warmly at the older gentleman. "I thought it long past time I came to make your acquaintance."

"Mr Wickham, was it?" Mr Bennet feigned vague confusion, but the pale eyes obscured behind a small, round pair of spectacles were sharp, still, and Wickham sensed he was facing one who would be a rather savvy opponent if it came to that. And it shall not come to that.

"That is right, sir. Good afternoon."

Mr Bennet's expression relaxed into a vague smile of welcome, but Wickham was only too aware that his eyes never fully left him. He had never succeeded so well at charming gentlemen as he did ladies, and he turned, then, to survey a quartet of admiring glances. No, a trio. Wickham's eyes narrowed. There was one young lady who was looking at him with very thinly concealed suspicion, every inch her father's daughter. There was some other familiarity to her, too, that he did not immediately place. She was not unlike Elizabeth to look at, he supposed that was it. They had the same dark colouring, but this young lady's features were not so animated or quick to smile as Elizabeth's had been, both in Wickham's memory and in their last meeting a few days previously. He swallowed, thinking it all too likely that this young lady, too, was pitched against him.

"Well, Miss Lydia, you have succeeded in teasing me to call at Longbourn. I knew I could not resist making the journey forever, or I should never hear the end of it. I am pleased to tell you that I have yet to step foot in a prettier house in all of Hertfordshire!"

"Oh, Mr Wickham!"

Mrs Bennet, younger than her husband by several years and still not an unpleasant figure herself, gestured to him to sit down, evidently eager to hear more of his opinions in favour of their home and her daughters.

"I have heard a great many stories about you from my daughters, Mr Wickham. I am pleased to know you for myself, for you know, a mother can never be too careful when it comes to the type of company her daughters keep...!"

"Mama!" Kitty squealed, appalled at such insinuation, but Wickham's eyes were not quick enough to avoid the frown that settled on the third Bennet girl. He cleared his throat, determined to win the family over. If all they had against him were suspicions, they should be easily put to rest.

"I agree, Mrs Bennet, and it was for that reason that I sought to come and call just as soon as I was granted the time. I can only apologise I was not able to do it sooner, but life in the regiment is busy and we mere recruits are afforded but little time of our own..."

This was not strictly true, or it might have been if Wickham had not already succeeded in shirking many of his duties, passing them off to friends and followers who did not know enough to refuse. He had won more than a few reprieves from certain unpleasant duties instead of payment for gambling debts, and whilst he would ordinarily prefer coins, he saw, now, the value of having time to spare.

"Oh, you poor dear!" Mrs Bennet was all consolation. "Yes, I always think it a dreadful shame how very hard the military work you. It isn't right, is it, Mr Bennet?"

Mr Bennet said nothing, but let out a harrumph that might have been an agreement or not, Wickham did not dare to look at him to see. He felt a strange flicker of anxiety around Mr Bennet, who seemed to see right through whatever mask he chose to wear to the very core of his being. He did not seem altogether fond of what he found there.

"Well, it is all in service of one's country and I am grateful for the opportunity to work hard and make my way in the world." Wickham dipped his head, smiling in a way he hoped conveyed humility. "We were not all born to wealth and privilege."

"I think it indicative of good character," Lydia said, stoutly. "You are certain to excel, Mr Wickham, and Kitty and I shall be only too proud to say we know you when we hear of your daring exploits at the front!"

"Oh, are you going to war?" This was Mr Bennet, again, at last interested enough to pose a question. Wickham turned, his smile slipping for half a moment at the thought of facing a battleground and the seeming pleasure Mr Bennet took at imagining such a future.

"Nothing is decided yet," he said, vaguely. "Of course, if that is what is required of me, I shall only be too pleased to oblige..."