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The attention of every lady was soon caught by a young man, whom they had never seen before, of most gentlemanlike appearance, walking with an officer on the other side of the way. The officer was the very Mr. Denny concerning whose return from London Lydia came to inquire, and he bowed as they passed. All were struck with the stranger’s sparkle, all wondered who he could be; and Kitty and Lydia, determined if possible to find out.
Mr. Denny addressed them directly, and entreated permission to introduce his friend, Mr. Wickham, who had returned with him the day before from town, and, he was happy to say, planned to accept a commission in their corps. This was exactly as it should be; for the young man wanted only regimentals to make him completely charming. His appearance was greatly in his favour: he had all the best parts of beauty, a glittering countenance, a good figure, and very pleasing address. The introduction was interrupted however by a pair of horses drawing up along side their party. On distinguishing the sparkle of the new gentleman in town, one of riders dismounted quickly. Mr. Darcy, for it was he, set himself to block the ladies of the group, completely ignoring the typical civilities.
Bingley dismounted next, and as usual, Miss Bennet became his principal object. He was then, he said, on his way to Longbourn on purpose to inquire after her. Mr. Darcy neither corroborated it, nor appeared to hear, as he was completely arrested by the sight of the diamond-like stranger. One changed color, while the other lost a bit of sparkle. Mr. Wickham, after a few moments, touched his hat—a salutation which Mr. Darcy did not deign to return.
"Wickham! There is nothing for you here among these good people." Without turning, he called to his friend, "Bingley, please escort Miss Bennet and her sisters away from this... individual."
"Now see here, Darcy! The world may be blinded by your fortune and consequence, however I am not frightened by your high and imposing manners." While Elizabeth thought his lack of color said otherwise, she admired the willingness to stand up to Mr. Darcy, the man who had insulted her at the assembly and frequently stared at her to find fault. "I will not be driven away. If you wish to avoid seeing me you must go."
"Mr. Darcy!" the parson in the party exclaimed. "Who would have thought of my meeting with—perhaps—a nephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh in Hertfordshire."
Darcy scowled at the man as he attempted to push his way forward, nearly knocking Miss Elizabeth into Wickham. He helped steady the lady, and gently tucked her hand around his arm to keep her safely by his side. "Do I know you, sir?"
Elizabeth felt it best to assume that was a request for an introduction. Otherwise, she suspected Mr. Collins would attempt to introduce himself. "This is Mr. Collins, my father's cousin. He-"
"I am parson to your aunt, the great Lady Catherine de Bourgh whose bounty and beneficence has preferred me to the valuable rectory of the Hunsford parish, where it is my earnest endeavor to demean myself with grateful respect towards her Ladyship, and be ever ready to perform those rites and ceremonies which are instituted by the Church of England."
"Parson, you say?" Darcy asked, a smile forming on his face. "Do you hear that, Wickham?"
Wickham saw an opportunity to gain sympathy, most particularly from the lady Darcy was so solicitous toward. "I was brought up for the church; and I should at this time have been in possession of a most valuable living, had it not been for you, Darcy." Wickham turned his attention and sparkling countenance toward the women. "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.”
"Tell them why, Wickham," Darcy insisted. "Tell them why."
Losing himself in the attention from the ladies present, Wickham continued with his usual tale, not considering that Darcy would be able to debunk his claim. Even if he tried, Wickham knew his charms were great and he was more likely to be believed than dour Darcy in any case. "There was just such an informality in the terms of the bequest as to give me no hope of claiming my due. A man of honor could not have doubted the intention, but this 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, anything or nothing."
Darcy scoffed, "Anything or nothing, you say?" He felt Miss Elizabeth start to withdraw her hand from his arm, and quickly reached across to keep it firmly in place. "You resigned all claim to assistance in the church and accepted in return three thousand pounds." Miss Elizabeth's grip on his arm tightened at this revelation.
"That living was designed for me," Wickham insisted.
"You have never taken orders," Darcy countered. "And once you took yourself off to London with the three thousand pounds from me and your one thousand pound legacy, you found yourself in a predicament that has put you in a situation where you will never be able to receive it," Darcy countered.
Despite his diamond-like sparkle, Darcy could see Wickham's underlying fear. Market towns and small villages like those found in rural England were not known to be welcoming to his kind. At least not once they had been identified for what they were. Darcy knew that his next revelation would put the final nail in Wickham's coffin of lies. "The Church of England does not ordain vampires, Wickham."
It was unmistakable once it had been pointed out. Wickham found the gathering crowd unnerving. The moment someone mentioned the need for a fire, George Wickham turned and ran the twenty-four miles back to London, determined never to try to best Darcy again.