Jump to new as of April 14, 2002

Part I

I am a man without morals. I admit this without compunction, my story is one which few will have sympathy. Why am I this way? Perhaps I was born without a heart, perhaps the child my father should have had was switched and I am just a shadow of him, a changeling. I was born with a natural social grace and good looks, yet morally benign. Yet here I am amongst the 'Gentleman' of the word, the righteous, the just, and the morally upright. 'Yet you can smile, and smile, and be a villain' I mummer softly to myself. Morals are something that only the rich can afford, unfortunately for me I am poor as they come.

Yet for all this morals are in my opinion highly overrated, my father was a moral man and look what it got him an early grave. So here I am above ground, gazing at the coffin in which my father lies. What do I feel? Nothing just a tinge of regret and partial relief. My eyes remain tearless, my cheeks dry and in me there is no surge of emotion. All I know is that I barely knew him, and continually in his life was a disappointment to him. As for my Mother, while she lived I was the apple of her eye 'Her darling Wickham.' I charmed her easily with my young, earnest face. She would never hear any wrong of her child. My Father was different; he disapproved of me in a time in which just the slightest nod of his head would have filled me with miraculous joy. As I grew older, this changed and I set my views to higher places. I think of all this as they 'lay him down to sleep', into the earth, commend thy spirit.

Gazing at my Father's newly covered grave small drops of rain begin to patter down and the small crowd that attended the funeral began to flitter off retreating inside from the rain. I didn't move. I allow the water to drip down my face acting as the tears I should have shed as they ran down my cheeks. I swear to myself. I shall never be a pauper, never slave until my death for a rich man, whatever it takes 'I shall not be you my Father.'

Several days later I sit beside the great pond on Pemberley's immense estate. I take several rocks, skid them across the water's skin watching the small circlets of water that results. I am bored, so bored I can hardly imagine sitting there for another moment. I search around me for some amusement. In a nearby tree I see a small squirrel peering down from one of the branches,

'What are you looking at?'

It's gray and very fat. It gazes at me in expectation, holding a rather immense nut in its stub like arms.

"Well on with you then"

I take one of the rocks and throw it at the squirrel angrily. It just barely misses the squirrel head, and the poor animal scampers off in fear. I laugh at its expression, holding my sides as they begin to ache. I start in surprise when I feel a hand at my shoulder,

'You really shouldn't do that you know"

I turn around and standing there is the youngest Mr. Darcy. I inwardly groan, how I dislike him. There he stands a thirteen-year-old boy, yet he is dressed as neatly and tidy as a man of thirty. He's a few inches taller than I am; good looking as chaps go, thin, brown curly hair, skin neither too pale nor too tan. His face has still that awkwardness of youth, in his dark eyes is both innocence and intelligence. He looks both older and younger than he is and almost regal with his right hand placed on his hip. For all the grace and poise this young boy has, the most revealing is his expression which to say the least is off putting, it is serious and filled with pride.

'Oh hello Darcy' I put on my most charming smile. 'So good to see you'

He glances at the stones piled next to me, 'Were you throwing those at squirrels?'

"Why no Darcy! Why would I do such a thing?' My sincerity glimmers off me, but his face remains serious, guarded.

'My Father told me to come and fetch you'

I blink vaguely surprised. The elder Mr. Darcy has seldom spoken to me, though always gone out of his way to be kind to me. I stand up quickly, wiping away the dirt from my trousers,

'Certainly, led the way'

Darcy turns silently and begins walking towards the great house. I follow behind him as we walk the path, neither of us in the mood for chitchat. I feel my stomach turn in knots when we arrive in Mr. Darcy's study. The son leads me in gesturing towards the desk at which his father sits and then wanders over to window at which he stands his back towards us both. I glance away from the son and over to the father; he is occupied with a letter, which he writes with a small ink pen. I see that he is an elderly man with wisps of gray in his hair. As I walk over he looks up and his face is very much like his son's. He sits up adjusting his waistcoat, possessing the natural regality that all Darcy's seem to gain at birth. Yet it is in the eyes that he is most unlike Darcy, his are a deep blue filled with fatherly warmth and he actually smiles when I walk nervously over to the desk. I stand awkwardly, unsure of how to behave.

'Welcome child, welcome. Please sit down.'

I sit down quickly in the nearest chair.

' I was very sad to hear of your Father's death. He was a most excellent man, one whom over the years I grew a deep abided respect for and often would consult with for advice.'

I swallow deeply but manage to get out,

"He spoke of you very well Mr. Darcy."

I can see he is pleased.

" Well I might as well not dally on the point. I know that the death of your Father has left your virtually penniless and alone. That exact matter is what I have called you in here to speak of. Because of my deep respect for your Father I have decided to take you in as one of my own."

I blink at him in surprise; the words both shock and shatter me.

"Everything you need will be supplied. I will give you a first rate education, which I will pay for. I will even set you up in a most advantageous career after school. I will act in your Father's place, if you will it. First I wished to hear your voice on the matter. I called you here to ask for your permission to do so, for I know I can not replace so good a man as your father. I feel I owe it to his memory to attempt to do so." I sit my mouth slightly agape.

"Well what do you say?" He pauses glancing at my expression. I am aware that he is evaluating me with his eyes. I gather myself as best I can, regaining my charm and begin to lay it on as thick as I can.

"I say sir firstly I am honored that you would do this for me. I am overwhelmed" I allow my eyes to get misty, better acting I have never done "Thank you sir"

He smiles at me looking as pleased as can be. He stands walking over his places his hand on my shoulder saying,

"Well then, welcome to the family Wickham" I stand up and he embraces me tenderly. I gasp in surprise, my Father never embraced me.

"We shall have to be very good to him shan't we William"

I glance over to Darcy, who stands by the window. The light from the window falls across him, making half of him light as morning, the other dark as night. His face is serious, dark with resentment. I look into his eyes and see it 'hatred.'

"Yes we shall, in as much as he deserves" His voice is level but I can hear it, the ice and venom. Still wrapped in his Father's embrace I look straight into his eyes. Then my lips curl into the sweetest, devil of a smile. With my eyes I tell him 'so be it Darcy, enemies you want, enemies shall we be.'

Part II

Several years later

I examined my figure in one of many vanity mirrors in Pemberley's front hallway. I was looking quite dauper today, my suit fit perfectly. I would have to send my compliments to the tailor. Mr. Darcy was kind enough to loan me the money for the purchase, such a good old man he is and so excessively fond of me. I smiled at my reflection adjusting my jacket and slicking back my hair. 'It will do' I commented to the figure in the mirror.

I could hear the soft tinkling of music notes drifting down the hallway. Georgiana was at it again; the child does nothing but sit at that piano of hers. One of these days I shall have to take Georgiana on one of my trips, it would be broadening for her. I smile at the mere idea of it. She's getting far too serious, too much like her Brother for my tastes. Though she does seem excessively fond of me. I am sure her upright brother wouldn't let her three feet out of the door with the likes of me. I pause and tell myself 'not now', that spade I shall keep in my coat sleeve for a later date.

I walk down the hallway to the music room; the door is ever so slightly ajar. It surprises me for Georgiana is so shy, usually she keeps herself practically locked up when she plays. I slip in, careful to not let the door squeak. I can see a blonde head seated at the piano. She is utterly absorbed; she does not mark me. I walk over to the piano, leaning against it closing my eyes and listening with appreciation. She is skilled, and the notes fly out smoothly under the tutelage of her fingers. I look within me for some reaction or response to the beauty of the music, not surprisingly I feel little save ennui. When she finishes the piece, I clap enthusiastically.

'Well done Georgiana'

Georgiana looks up slightly dazed as though waking up from a lovely dream but then slowly I see her awaken to the fact that I had been listening all the while. Her face grows embarrassed and she looks down at her hands, which had fallen to her lap. She speaks softly,

'I thought I was alone'

I shake my head in mock disapproval,

'Georgiana, Georgiana. You improvements are miraculous to see, yet I do not understand how such a talent as you can hide it so.'

Georgiana cheeks turn two shades of pink, but I can see she is pleased. I walk closer to her, and take her gloved hand in mine.

'How is my darling Georgiana faring? The piece was quite plaintive, mayhaps you are melancholy?'

I make a mock frown, which elicits a small laugh from her. I take a seat next to her on the piano bench, examining her seated figure with my eyes. Her hair is fair, with small tendrils falling across her forehead and her form thin, girlish. She looks down at her hands, rarely looking up at me.

' Brother is going to Cambridge today. I shall miss him so terribly.'

'Yes as am I, we are to be roommates it seems. Well then shall you not miss me at all? I have to say I am terribly disappointed, for' I reach my hand towards her cheek and allow my finger to caress it, whispering softly 'I shall miss you'

To this Georgiana turns a shade of red that travels from her neck all the way to her ear tips.

'Of course I shall miss you Wickham.'

' Call me George'

She stutters, 'I can't..it..it wouldn't be proper'

'What do we care for what is proper? Why shouldn't two friends' I look her straight in the eyes 'two good friends not call one another by their Christian names?'

'I am not sure.'

It is just then that we are interrupted, very rudely I might I add, by his illustrious personage Fitzwilliam Darcy who comes into the room rather abruptly. Georgiana looks up and somehow sensing the impropriety of the situation immediately steps away from the piano bench towards her brother.

'Hello William. I was just about to come get you'

Darcy glances at me scowling.

'I hope I wasn't interrupting anything important'

'Of course not Darcy, you are always welcome to barge into rooms unannounced at will' My face is filled with bitter sarcasm.

Georgiana glances nervously from her Brother to me, back to her brother. She is obviously is getting upset. Darcy sees this, and smiles gently at her,

'It's quite all right Georgiana.' Looking down at her with a tenderness in his face that I seldom see him express ' I see you have been practicing those Irish ballads I gave you'

She perks up at the mention of music. 'Oh yes. They are delightful William.'

I see that I have become unimportant. I stand up,

'Well obviously you two have much to speak about. I will just go about my business. Until later Darcy' I say the latter without enthusiasm. I look at Georgiana, 'I hope to see you before I leave' As I walk away I am absolutely certain both Darcy and Georgiana are watching my every move.

My bags are nearly packed, truthfully I set on this trip with little enthusiasm. Education does not interest me. Darcy is always about the house reading some book or another, but I can not sit still long enough to mind it. Much more fascinating are my daily observations of character. It is indeed a fascinating study, how much sin humanity keeps hidden in their hearts. It's all there if you have an eye for it, for me it is almost an art form to find out were others vulnerabilities lie. Darcy's faults are glaring enough; mainly that he is good yet no one outside of his family perceives it. Likewise I am bad, but everyone thinks I am good. How alike we are Darcy. Yet I know that he sees me, the real me, underneath all these manners I display. That makes him very dangerous to me.

It shan't be an entire waste, of that I am certain. A sociable fellow like me always finds ways to occupy his time, but with his royal bore around I shall have to be guarded. I wouldn't want news of my bad conduct getting back to the Father would we? That reminds me that I must make my farewells to Mr. Darcy before we go. I walk on towards Pemberley, leaving my things behind to be packed by the housemaid, another of numerous kindnesses that Mr. Darcy has bestowed upon my family.

It isn't that far away from the servants quarters to the great house, but it is indeed another world unto itself. As I walk in, as much as the first day I entered Pemberley, the grandeur of this place hits me. To be the master of such an estate, the very idea thrills me. I reach Mr. Darcy's study and am about to enter when I hear voices,

'Father I really most beg you to see the matter clearly.'

I pause leaning my head against the door to better hear the discussion.

'William I think you misjudge him. Wickham is good boy, very much like his Father. An intelligent, witty, fine person who with the correct guidance could make himself quite respectable.'

'Father I understand you have affection for him but I think that he is not as good as you think him. I do not like the manner in which he behaves towards Georgiana'

'For heavens sake William Georgiana is 13, she is far to young for any misconduct of that sort.'

'She is not so 'young' as you think Father. I do not like his influence on her. Georgiana is very innocent and trusting.'

'I will hear no more of this William. I am many years your elder, trust me to be the better judge of character. One might think you were jealous of the poor child.'

I smiled at this and from the silence I could tell the barb had wounded. I decide that this is the perfect moment to enter. The Father looks up in surprise, and Darcy turns slightly pale obviously afraid he had been overheard. I don't allow my expression to show even the slightest hint of knowledge of that which they had just spoken.

'Well hello, two Darcys at once didn't expect the pleasure of seeing you both here.'

Darcy looked at his Father resentment still in his eyes 'I was just on my way out'

His Father looks at him with warning, 'Remember what I said William'

'Yes Father' I can see he has given in, always the dutiful son is William Darcy. Mr. Darcy looks at me smiling tenderly. The son leaves the room sullenly, closing the door behind him rather louder than needed.

'Well then Wickham are you all ready for the journey?'

'Yes sir, very nearly. I most thank you again for this opportunity.'

'Say nothing of it child. I am glad to do so.' He walks over placing his arm about my shoulder. I feel a small measure of guilt, but it fades quickly. 'You are lucky my boy I remember my first time away for school.....' I didn't mark the rest of his diatribe; there is nothing duller than an elderly man reminiscing. I just kept smiling, and nodding appreciatively in moments that seem important. He gives me advice and even gives me a bit of extra money for any 'trinkets' I may wish to buy. He grows tired quickly though, it is only then I mark his age, his hair is nearly entirely gray and he seems to cough more often than the previous time we met. I am sure before I graduate from Cambridge Mr. Darcy will be no longer of this world. Does this sadden me? To my surprise I find it does, villain that I am. I do have some affection for the man, and even more so for the inheritance I expect upon his death.

'Well then off you go Wickham' I shake his hand heartily and walk outside where I meet Darcy. He stands watch as they load his bags into the carriage, along with mine, which have been sent over while I spoke with Mr. Darcy. When this is finished we both enter the carriage silently. I sit on the opposite side facing Darcy. He looks out the window not even glancing in my direction,

'Off we go Darcy. This should be quite the adventure.'

He doesn't respond just looks out the window at the waving figure of his Father, and Georgiana. I wave back at Georgiana; she stares at me for several minutes her eyes misting up. She runs inside and soon after her Father follows. Darcy looks over at me,

'It is just you and I then.'

We spend most of the trip in silence.

Part II

Several years later

My childhood years at Pemberley were spent quite pleasantly. Darcy, though certainly never a 'friend' would often go swimming or fishing with me. I never lacked companionship as old Mr. Darcy often called me up to visit him, Georgiana followed me around with childlike adoration and Darcy grudgingly accepted me as a playmate; lacking the companionship of any one else close to his age. As we both grew older this changed. Darcy started a more serious study of arithmetic, history and science; more often than not you could find him in the library. Most often though he was away with his father on trips to his tenants, watching him, learning how and what it is to be the master of Pemberley.

Old Mr. Darcy was very much true to his word, he supplied me with a tutor and though I was a less than apt student I made some progress. The benefit of his society taught me to appear a gentleman, if not in truth to actually be one. I admired him in my own way, he reminded me of my Father but like my Father I knew I could never be like him.

I examine my figure in one of many vanity mirrors in Pemberley's front hallway. I was looking quite dapper, my suit fit perfectly. Mr. Darcy was kind enough to loan me the money for the purchase, such a good old man he is and so excessively fond of me. I smiled at my reflection adjusting my jacket and slicking back my hair. 'It will do' I commented to the figure in the mirror.

I could hear the soft tinkling of music notes drifting down the hallway. Georgiana was at it again; the child does nothing but sit at that piano of hers. She's getting far too serious, too much like her Brother for my tastes. Though she does seem excessively fond of me. I pause and tell myself 'not now.' Georgiana is just a child, but it does well to remember that girls grow up to be women.

I walk down the hallway to the music room; the door is ever so slightly ajar. It surprises me for Georgiana is so shy, usually she keeps herself practically locked up when she plays. I slip in, careful to not let the door squeak. I can see a blonde head seated at the piano. She is utterly absorbed; she does not mark me. I walk over to the piano, leaning against it closing my eyes and listening with appreciation. She is skilled, and the notes fly out smoothly under the tutelage of her fingers. I look within me for some reaction or response to the beauty of the music, not surprisingly I feel little save ennui. When she finishes the piece, I clap enthusiastically.

'Well done Georgiana'

Georgiana looks up slightly dazed as though waking up from a lovely dream but then slowly I see her awaken to the fact that I had been listening all the while. Her face grows embarrassed and she looks down at her hands, which had fallen to her lap. She speaks softly,

'I thought I was alone'

I shake my head in mock disapproval,

'Georgiana, Georgiana. You improvements are miraculous to see, yet I do not understand how such a talent as you can hide it so.'

Georgiana cheeks turn two shades of pink, but I can see she is pleased. I walk closer to her, and take her gloved hand in mine.

'How is my darling Georgiana faring? The piece was quite plaintive, mayhaps you are melancholy?'

I make a mock frown, which elicits a small laugh from her. I take a seat next to her on the piano bench, examining her seated figure with my eyes. Her hair is fair, with small tendrils falling across her forehead and her form thin, girlish. She looks down at her hands, rarely looking up at me.

' Brother is going to Cambridge today. I shall miss him so terribly.'

'Yes as am I, we are to be roommates it seems. Well then shall you not miss me at all? I have to say I am terribly disappointed, for' I whisper the last part, 'I shall miss you'

'Of course I shall miss you Wickham.' She looks confused and slightly embarrassed.

'Call me George'

She stutters, 'I can't..it..it wouldn't be proper'

'What do we care for what is proper? Why shouldn't two friends' I look her straight in the eyes 'two good friends not call one another by their Christian names?'

'I am not sure.'

It is just then that we are interrupted, very rudely I might I add, by his illustrious personage Fitzwilliam Darcy who comes into the room rather abruptly. Georgiana looks up and somehow sensing the impropriety of the situation immediately steps away from the piano bench towards her brother.

'Hello William. I was just about to come get you'

Darcy glances at me scowling.

'I hope I wasn't interrupting anything important'

'Of course not Darcy, you are always welcome to barge into rooms unannounced at will' My face is filled with bitter sarcasm.

Georgiana glances nervously from her Brother to me, back to her brother. She is obviously is getting upset. Darcy sees this, and smiles gently at her,

'It's quite all right Georgiana.' Looking down at her with a tenderness in his face that I seldom see him express ' I see you have been practicing those Irish ballads I gave you'

She perks up at the mention of music. 'Oh yes. They are delightful William.'

I see that I have become unimportant. I stand up,

'Well obviously you two have much to speak about. I will just go about my business. Until later Darcy' I say the latter without enthusiasm. I look at Georgiana, 'I hope to see you before I leave' As I walk away I am absolutely certain both Darcy and Georgiana are watching my every move.

My bags are nearly packed, truthfully I set on this trip with little enthusiasm. Education does not interest me. Darcy is always about the house reading some book or another, but I can not sit still long enough to mind it. Much more fascinating are my daily observations of character. It is indeed a fascinating study, how much sin humanity keeps hidden in their hearts. It's all there if you have an eye for it, for me it is almost an art form to find out were others vulnerabilities lie. Darcy's faults are glaring enough; mainly that he is good yet no one outside of his family perceives it. Likewise I am bad, but everyone thinks I am good. How alike we are Darcy.

It shan't be an entire waste, of that I am certain. A sociable fellow like me always finds ways to occupy his time, but with his royal bore around I shall have to be guarded. I wouldn't want news of my bad conduct getting back to the Father would we? That reminds me that I must make my farewells to Mr. Darcy before we go. I walk on towards Pemberley, leaving my things behind to be packed by the housemaid, another of numerous kindnesses that Mr. Darcy has bestowed upon my family.

It isn't that far away from the servants quarters to the great house, but it is indeed another world unto itself. As I walk in, as much as the first day I entered Pemberley, the grandeur of this place hits me. To be the master of such an estate, the very idea thrills me. I reach Mr. Darcy's study and am about to enter when I hear voices,

'Father I really most beg you to see the matter clearly.'

I pause leaning my head against the door to better hear the discussion.

'William I think you misjudge him. Wickham is a good boy, very much like his Father. An intelligent, witty, fine person who with the correct guidance could make himself quite respectable.'

'Father I understand you have affection for him but I think that he is not as good as you think him. I do not like the manner in which he behaves towards Georgiana'

'For heavens sake Georgiana is just a child, she is far to young for any misconduct of that sort.'

'I do not like his influence on her. Georgiana is very innocent and trusting.'

'I will hear no more of this William. I am many years your elder, trust me to be the better judge of character. One might think you were jealous of the poor child.'

I smiled at this and from the silence I could tell the barb had wounded. I decide that this is the perfect moment to enter. The Father looks up in surprise, and Darcy turns slightly pale obviously afraid he had been overheard. I don't allow my expression to show even the slightest hint of knowledge of that which they had just spoken.

'Well hello, two Darcys at once didn't expect the pleasure of seeing you both here.'

Darcy looked at his Father resentment still in his eyes 'I was just on my way out'

His Father looks at him with warning, 'Remember what I said William'

'Yes Father' I can see he has given in, always the dutiful son is William Darcy. Mr. Darcy looks at me smiling tenderly. The son leaves the room sullenly, closing the door behind him rather louder than needed.

'Well then Wickham are you all ready for the journey?'

'Yes sir, very nearly. I most thank you again for this opportunity.'

'Say nothing of it child. I am glad to do so.' He walks over placing his arm about my shoulder. I feel a small measure of guilt, but it fades quickly. 'You are lucky my boy I remember my first time away for school.....' I didn't mark the rest of his diatribe; there is nothing duller than an elderly man reminiscing. I just kept smiling, and nodding appreciatively in moments that seem important. He gives me advice and even gives me a bit of extra money for any 'trinkets' I may wish to buy. He grows tired quickly though, it is only then I mark his age, his hair is nearly entirely gray and he seems to cough more often than the previous time we met. I am sure before I graduate from Cambridge Mr. Darcy will be no longer of this world. Does this sadden me? To my surprise I find it does, villain that I am. I do have some affection for the man.

'Well then off you go Wickham' I shake his hand heartily and walk outside where I meet Darcy. He stands watch as they load his bags into the carriage, along with mine, which have been sent over while I spoke with Mr. Darcy. When this is finished we both enter the carriage silently. I sit on the opposite side facing Darcy. He looks out the window not even glancing in my direction,

'Off we go Darcy. This should be quite the adventure.'

He doesn't respond just looks out the window at the waving figure of his Father, and Georgiana. I wave back at Georgiana; she stares at me for several minutes her eyes misting up. She runs inside and soon after her Father follows. Darcy looks over at me,

'It is just you and I then.'

We spend most of the trip in silence.

Part III

Note: I played around with the history enough to make Bingley be with them at Cambridge, though I think this unlikely I thought it might be fun/dynamic to include him. There are other surprise visitors to come. Wickham's evil is just beginning *grins*

One year later at Cambridge

I have to say Cambridge has been much more enjoyable than I imagined it would be. I have already obtained a great deal of knowledge, not of history, literature, mathematics or science mind you. I have become an expert on three of my favorite vices; gambling, drinking and debauchery. I have been very careful though, Darcy hasn't a clue or at least he is turning his eyes away for his dear Father's sake. In fact he has become almost polite to me these days. I can see that it is strained, forced by the will of his Father but it is well enough for me. Most of the time we hardly see each other. Darcy spends much of his time in the library in deep study; he has excellent marks. He has also taken up fencing, so the rest of his time is spent in the gym practicing. He has no lack of companionship but I see him most often with a Mr. Bingley, a fellow that he met through a mutual acquaintance. I know little of him and have met him perhaps once or twice since I have been here. They are of equal social standing, Bingley just a little below Darcy's great fortune. So naturally Darcy would prefer his company to mine.

I keep my marks up, enough to slide by but none outstanding. Still the eldest Mr. Darcy writes to me regularly telling me he is proud of my progress, he also suggests readings to me mostly of the biblical kind. I write back that I will be sure and read them, but never do. Religion is for those with actual souls. I have made several friends who share my interests keenly. I play poker every night with a group of them at a nearby inn. I win often, mainly because I cheat. Most of them are idiots, so I have yet to be caught.

I am sitting in our room now attempting to write a letter, but I find myself getting easily distracted. Something is itching at the back of my mind, uneasiness for things have been going almost too smoothly. It feels very much like the calm before the impending hurricane. Darcy who walks in with Mr. Bingley interrupts me,

'She truly is the loveliest creature.' Bingley proclaims his voice trilling with excitement. Darcy smiles ambiguously at Bingley,

'That is what you said of Maria, then of Henrietta before her.'

'This time it is different Darcy. I tell you!' He glances with frustration at him, 'Why most you disapprove so deeply of every lady that you meet?'

Darcy pauses considering, 'There are very few ladies of our acquaintance whom I think worthy of such praise. I would be careful Bingley in your judgements of their character.'

Bingley frowns. 'Good Lord Darcy. You truly are the cynic.'

'Like whoever you will Bingley. My opinion should matter little.'

Darcy looks over at me. I pretend to pay no mind to the conversation rather I pick up a book and 'read' it.

'I would be most happy to see you in love Darcy. I think that then all your protestations against feminine charms will come back to haunt you.'

Darcy considers this for a moment, but then merely laughs. 'We shall see Bingley. I know I shall never be as foolish as you shall in love.' I can see that he is teasing Mr. Bingley. Bingley takes it well smiling back at him; they seem so at ease with one another.

Still being who I am I simply can't resist a jibe at him, 'Never say never Darcy.'

He glances over at me suspiciously. I stand up taking my jacket in hand,

'Where are you going Wickham?' Darcy asks.

'Out, see you later Darcy. Good day Bingley.'

Bingley nods his goodbye and begins speaking to Darcy. Darcy opens his mouth to say something to me but instead just watches me leave. I detect just a hint of something in his eyes, could it be regret?

I arrive to the Inn at a quarter past eight. I walk to the proprietor of the establishment, slipping him a note and he leads me to the back room. He is a gruff looking man with muscles the size of small canon balls. Already seated around the table are Isaac, Fred and Gregory. The owner gives each of us a penetrating look,

'Now no funny business, none of ye. I won't have any fightin in this here establishment.'

' You can be assured of that, we are all Gentleman here.' Says Isaac.

He merely shrugs, 'Gentleman or not, break anything and I'll break you.' He stomps back into the kitchen. I can hear him mumble under his breath, 'that's what they always say.'

I smile at my companions, 'Well he certainly was pleasant' I take my seat and say 'Lets get to it. I am ready to take all of your money at will.'

Isaac looks at me steel in his eyes, 'Not tonight Wickham. I am feeling very lucky.'

'Deal then' Isaac passes out the cards. We play three games and I win two of them. I allow Isaac to win at least one game, for mere safety sake. The owner walks in half way into our fourth game and stands watching us play. A grin plays across his hairy face as I win with a full house. He shakes his head walking out the door,

'Bunch of limey idiots'

What happens next is my own fault. I allow myself to drink too much, by the time the last game is nearly done; it begins to get rather hot in the room. I firstly take off my jacket, then I pull my right sleeve up, forgetting that is where I hide my cards. Fred who is sitting next to me looks over, seeing the card wrapped around my forearm with a ribbon he gasps,

'Wickham what is that?'

I realize what I have done and quickly pull my sleeve up as fast as I can. By this time Isaac is standing up, he has seen it.

'Wickham! You have been cheating all this while. Damn you. How dare you!'

Gregory's face is convoluting with anger. Fred is looking at me with a blend of wonder and disgust. Isaac walks over taking me by the shirt collar and shaking me. His left arm is raised in fist and he punches me hard across my cheek. I immediately retaliate; I punch Isaac stoutly in the stomach. This makes him fall backwards against the table; breaking a chair and making several glasses fall to the ground. Fred and Gregory both rise to their friend's defense together they grab and pull me back, pinning me against the wall. Isaac recovers himself. He stands up, comes towards me and as they both hold me still he punches me several times in the stomach.

Then the owner walks in; he assesses the situation grabs both Gregory and Fred pulling them away from me. I fall to the ground in pain. He stands in wait until a woman appears in the doorway.

'All right then, what is this?'

She is an older woman, perhaps thirty and her dark hair is neatly piled upon her head in a bun. Her face is pinched, unattractive; her blue-green eyes are calculating but not insincere as they travel over the disheveled, bruised, lot of us.

She looks at Isaac, Jim and Gregory, 'I know who each of you are, Jim Moore, Gregory Philips and Isaac Grey. You wouldn't want your rich fathers to hear of you gambling and having bar fights?' They shake their heads 'then off with you and never shadow my doorstep again.'

The lot of them runs off as though their shoes were on fire. I can't help but laugh and the woman smiles at me.

'As for you George Wickham' I blink in surprise 'we shall have to take care of you shan't we'

A sit my mouth slightly agape, slowly my wits return to me and I say with my most charming smile, 'You have the benefit of knowing my name, but I haven't the slightest idea of what yours is.'

She doesn't respond but rather walks to the back room, returning with ice in a cloth. She gives this to me, which I place on my bruised cheek. She helps me up, saying.

'They call me Mrs. Younge and we have much to discuss George Wickham.'

To be continued...