Wickham and Denny Meet the Bennet Sisters in Meryton
November 19, 1811
THE RETURN FROM LONDON BY POST was not unpleasant for Archibald Denny, lieutenant of militia, but his good humor was not only due to his traveling companion. George Wickham was an engaging sort of rascal much like himself, always ready to enjoy a drink or a barmaid. Their lively conversation made the hours in the crowded coach fly by, and before he knew it, Denny was back in Meryton.
No, Denny’s happy mood was due to two different reasons. First, his contacts in Town had finally borne fruit, and there was at last the opportunity to acquire the funds he needed to buy a lieutenancy in the Regulars. Second, with his return to Hertfordshire, Denny hoped to further his acquaintance with Miss Lydia Bennet, the pretty and lively daughter of a local gentleman.
“To what sort of place have you brought me, Denny?” said Wickham, looking out the window as the carriage came to a stop.
“A most delightful country town,” Denny assured him. “The fellows in the regiment are a jolly bunch, and the local girls are comely and friendly.”
Wickham grinned. “Jolly and comely—my favorite sort of people! Lead on, my friend!”
Upon exiting the post carriage, Denny arranged for their trunks to be delivered to the militia’s camp, but instead of reporting directly to Colonel Forster and finalizing Wickham’s commission in the regiment, Denny agreed to Wickham’s request to see more of Meryton first. They had not walked five minutes before Denny was glad he agreed to Wickham’s suggestion. There, on the other side of the street, was Miss Lydia with three of her sisters and a tall, stocky man dressed in the clothes of a clergyman.
Denny bowed at Miss Lydia’s wave, and he heard Wickham’s light whistle of approval. “Well, you were right about the comely ladies, Denny,” his friend said in a low voice.
Denny smiled. “Come, I will introduce you.”
They crossed the street, Denny unconsciously straightening his uniform jacket. He addressed the company directly and entreated permission to introduce his companion, Mr. Wickham. Wickham began conversing with Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth, which gave Denny the opportunity to talk with Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia. Both officers ignored the ladies’ cousin, a Mr. Collins of Kent, as blustery a fool as Denny had ever met.
Miss Kitty was nervous and coughing as usual, but to Denny’s disappointment, Miss Lydia was more interested in Wickham than himself.
“And where did you meet the gentleman?” she asked for the second time. Denny was about to answer her when two gentlemen rode up. At a glance, Denny recognized Mr. Bingley and his guest, Mr. Darcy.
The gentlemen began the usual civilities; Mr. Bingley was the principal spokesman and Miss Bennet the principal object. He had been, he said, on his way to Longbourn on purpose to inquire after her, a statement Mr. Darcy corroborated with a bow.
At that moment, Wickham, who was facing Miss Elizabeth, his back to the newcomers, turned, and something extraordinary happened. Wickham locked eyes with Mr. Darcy and both changed color; Wickham paled, while the gentleman on horseback grew red. Wickham, after a few moments, touched his hat—a salutation which Mr. Darcy barely deigned to return.
Denny was shocked. Why was George afraid of Mr. Darcy?
Mr. Bingley continued to speak with Miss Bennet for another minute, without noticing what had passed between the two men. Then seeming to sense his friend’s unease, he took leave and rode on with Mr. Darcy.
There was no opportunity for Denney to inquire about the incident, for the ladies announced their intention of walking to Mrs. Philips’ house, and the two men accompanied them.
“Will you not come in with us?” cried Miss Lydia at the door of the house, her eyes more on Wickham than Denny.
“Lydia,” Miss Bennet gently admonished the girl.
“We would not want to intrude,” said Wickham.
“Oh, you will not!” returned the girl. “Our aunt loves company, especially that of handsome officers!”
“Lydia!” It was now Miss Elizabeth’s turn to correct her sister.
At that moment, the window was thrown open and a matronly lady stuck her head out. “Oh, there you are, girls! I have been waiting an age, I am sure!” Mrs. Philips took in the gentlemen with a glance. “Oh, sirs, you are well met! Please come in! You must come in!”
Denny was tempted, but duty came first. “I thank you, madam, but we must report to headquarters. Pray forgive us.” The entreaties were pressed and refused one last time before the officers took their leave of the party, but only after promising Miss Lydia more firmly that they should all meet again soon.
After Denny and Wickham were a distance away from the house, Wickham glanced at him. “Do you know that tall, dark-haired man we met just now?”
“On horseback? That was Mr. Bingley’s guest, Mr. Darcy, a gentleman from the north. Do you know him?”
Wickham smiled tightly. “I do. Tell me, what do the people hereabouts think of him?”
“Not very much—only that he is grave and quiet—and many say his pride sets him above the common folk in the country.”
“Pride!” cried Wickham in a relieved laugh. “Yes, I should say that man is very proud indeed!”
“You sound as though you know him.”
“I do, very well. I daresay there is no one who knows him better.” Wickham grinned. “We grew up together at his family’s estate in Derbyshire. His father was my godfather.”
“I am surprised at that, for it looked to me that he all but gave you the cut direct in the middle of the street!”
“That is no surprise, for he hates me.”
“His father’s godson? You cannot be serious!”
“I am.” Wickham looked around. “Too many ears about. Let us find a tavern, and I will tell you my tale of woe.”
Denny was tempted, but he knew this was not the time. “Later, George. We must hurry to Colonel Forster. We have to get you sworn in and fitted out with your kit. You are in the king’s service now, and your time is not your own.”
Wickham rolled his eyes. “You are right, I suppose. Damn that Darcy! I was meant for better things, but that is all behind me now. I am a soldier, as you said. Let us to the colonel’s tent!”
(Based upon Archibald Denny, from my novel, The Three Colonels: Jane Austen’s Fighting Men.)
3 comments
And there he goes… the SBRB [sccum-bag-rat-bastard]. What a sleaze. What do you have him up to after that scene? Schemes, cheating, debauchery, and scandal? Oh, just a few things, I’m sure. Thanks for sharing. I hope Denny will see through his smooth charming facade. Not many do, but if Denny likes Lydia… he better keep his eyes sharp. That girl has little to no sense and her head is easily turned by a few well-placed words.
I enjoyed the slight contrast you provided between Denny, who obviously likes a good time but also has some sense of duty, to Wickham, who is more interested in scoping out the scene and figuring out where he can gain an advantage. Thanks, Jack!
I am not so sure that all is behind Wickham as he claimed.
He always lives in the past, enjoys the present, and spends the future…