Wicked Wickham

By Anne Harlowe

"Good," said Wickham, studying his reflection in the large looking-glass over the fireplace. "I used to be rather fond of angling. It's all in the bait, you see. Throw 'em a bit of juicy bait, and you've hooked 'em before you can say Jack Robinson – and with bait like this..." He caressed his elegantly-folded cravat and admired himself in the mirror.

Jane Austen described Wickham as "One of the most worthless young men in Great Britain".  This book explores Wickham's worthlessness from his early days as a young rake and fortune-hunter in London, through his seduction of Georgiana Darcy in Ramsgate, to his elopement with the fifteen-year-old Lydia. It goes on to describe how he reaps what he sows in Lydia's gradual transformation into another Mrs Bennet.

• Language: English
• Publisher: EKP
• Release date: Apr 6, 2019
• ISBN: 9798224163281

Anne Harlowe

Anne Harlowe was brought up in York, and was lucky enough to go to St Peter’s School. The city, with its rich history and magnificent cathedral, has been an important influence in her life, and has inspired some of her best work. She read English at Leeds University, and did a master’s degree dissertation entitled Jane Austen’s Heroines. Her first attempt at writing for publication was to produce a study guide for Pride and Prejudice, but after about 20 pages she got distracted by writing a short story entitled A Night at Pemberley. This was submitted to a Fan Fiction website and was well-received, encouraging her to attempt further flights of Jane Austen-related fantasy, the most popular of which are Darcy’s Dark Secret and Poet of Pemberley. Not content to hang on to the bonnet-strings of her favourite author, she began writing original works of Regency and Victorian romance, the most recent of which are Captain Cardew’s Conquests and The Romantic Adventures of a Between Maid. The study guide is still unfinished.

Book preview

Chapter 1

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man who has no fortune must be in want of a wife who has.

Such a one was George Wickham, the son of a very respectable man who had for many years the management of all the Pemberley estates; and whose good conduct in the discharge of his trust naturally inclined old Mr. Darcy to be of service to him. He supported Wickham at school, and afterwards at Cambridge; most important assistance, as his own father, always poor from the extravagance of his wife, would have been unable to give him a gentleman’s education.

Wickham came down from Cambridge pursued by rumours of gambling, drinking and vicious propensities. Indeed, it was not quite clear whether he came down, or had been sent down, but Wickham always managed to steer any conversation away from that topic with his usual urbane charm.

Came or sent, the purpose of his visit was ostensibly the funeral of old Mr. Darcy, but the real reason became apparent before his former benefactor was hardly cold in his grave, for soon afterwards he appeared in town dressed in a powder blue coat of the very latest fashion and the very highest quality.

I say, said Denny, looking Wickham up and down as he was shewn into his rooms in Knightsbridge. Who’s your new tailor?

The speaker was one of Wickham’s old Cambridge friends – a very valuable friend, and not only because he was the younger son of the Earl of Wentworth, but because they had shared many a drunken revel together.

Weston of Old Bond Street, no less!

Denny fingered the wide lapel of the beautifully-made coat and was impressed by the fine quality of the material.

Must have cost a pretty penny!

Haven’t you heard? Old Darcy popped his clogs the other day and left me a thousand, said Wickham, speaking in the familiar slang of his Cambridge days; a style of address he never used when seeking to make an impression on those outside his wild set.

The old gentleman thought the world of me; hoped the church would be my profession, intended to provide for me in it. In his will, as well as the thousand, he promised me a valuable family living as soon as it became vacant.

Denny looked surprised.

Not quite you. I can’t imagine you in a cassock and surplice!

No, hardly, replied Wickham, so I wrote to that pompous son of his – you know the fellow – Darcy, always got his nose in the air...

"So would I if I had 10,000l a year."

The Wentworth Estate...

...is worth nearly as much, but don’t forget, I’m a younger son. A measly allowance and a commission in the Derbyshire Militia is all I’ll get out of it!

Well, I informed him that, having finally resolved against taking orders, I hoped he should not think it unreasonable for me to expect some more immediate pecuniary advantage, in lieu of the preferment by which I could not be benefited.

A good move.

And just to make sure, I added that I had some intention of studying the law, and he must be aware that the interest of one thousand pounds would be a very insufficient support therein. I think he almost believed me to be sincere – but, at any rate, was perfectly ready to accede to my proposal. The business was therefore soon settled. I resigned all claim to assistance in the church, and accepted in return three thousand pounds.

And are you going to take up the law? said Denny with mild disbelief.

Well, I have taken up residence in the Inns of Court, and done a little studying – just for the show if it, don’t you know. But my real intention is to go fishing.

Fishing?

Fishing for an heiress. And that’s where you come in, Denny. I have a gentleman’s education, so I have good address. I will also have, if you will forgive the play on words, a good address – assuming I can trespass upon your hospitality for a while – and as you have already noticed, I have – good dress – from the best tailor in London.

With so many puns I wonder you don’t take up the literary profession, said Denny ironically.

Wickham ignored him, and carried on outlining his plan. With these I will bait my hook. As for the lakes and rivers where I am to cast my line, so to speak, you will introduce me to London society. I will be the friend of Denny, basking in the reflected glory of the Wentworth estate, with a vague connection with the greater glory of the Pemberley estate – who could suspect me of mere dowry-hunting with a background like that...?

Denny laughed.

...and a coat like this!

It was true; the immaculate tailoring added a decided air of consequence to Wickham’s already elegant figure, so that to see them side-by-side the casual observer might imagine that Wickham was the son of an earl, and Denny the son of a mere estate manager.

Denny laughed again, then frowned, then considered the audacious proposition for a long while – or at least, what seemed a long while to Wickham. Denny could revel with the wildest, but he was no fool. He considered carefully how it might affect his own situation.

I’ll help you, he said at last, on one condition.

What’s that?

That you promise not to pay court to either of my sisters.

Good man! said Wickham, much relieved, It’s a done deal! But if I can’t catch one of your oh-so-lovely sisters, where am I to begin?

Denny scratched his head. What about Almack’s?

Can you get me in?

Well, you don’t have to have a title, you know; good connections and gentlemanly conduct should do it.

I heard that Tom Moore got in, and he’s just a penniless poet!

Well, they say that genius is another kind of aristocracy.

Genius! Have you read his stuff? Just a parcel of sentimental ballads for silly girls to swoon over!

Some of those silly girls are wealthy heiresses.

Wickham looked thoughtful. He was probably wondering whether he could turn his hand to sentimental verses, but Denny guessed his thoughts.

No need to stoop to that, old man! he laughed. Your father was a gentleman by profession – a lawyer, and your connection with Darcy is a recommendation in itself. I’ll get the pater to put your name forward. Don’t worry, we’ll soon fix it, and then you’ll be fishing in a pond with a fair few big fish to catch.

Good, said Wickham, studying his reflection in the large looking-glass over the fireplace. I used to be rather fond of angling. It’s all in the bait, you see. Throw ’em a bit of juicy bait, and you’ve hooked ’em before you can say Jack Robinson – and with bait like this...

He caressed his elegantly-folded cravat and admired himself in the mirror.

Chapter 2

The season was full , and Almack’s was crowded, but the two men squeezed in as well as they could. Denny was all for repairing to the card-room, but Wickham reminded him why they were there.

It’s no good my trying to find a partner myself, you know. I need you to make the necessary introduction, and what is more important, to point out the eligible heiresses. It would be too bad if I wasted my time paying court to some young lady only to find out later on that she is penniless!

Very well, said Denny, we’ll visit my club later. There is play there all night if we want it. In the meantime we had better find a place where we can get a better view of the floor – then I might see some of my acquaintances.

But though they pushed through the crowd with unwearied diligence, and went to the highest point in the room, their situation was just the same; they saw nothing of the dancers but the high feathers of some of the ladies. Still they moved on – something better was yet in view; and by a continued exertion of strength and ingenuity they found themselves at last in the passage behind the highest bench. Here there was something less of crowd than below; and hence they had a comprehensive view of all the company beneath them. A waltz was in progress, a newly-introduced dance, still considered a little daring by the maiden-aunts of society, but adding at that moment an extra sense of heady excitement to the proceedings of the evening. As the dancers swirled below him, Wickham caught sight of many a fair face and shapely waist.

By Jove, Denny! You were right to bring me here! It looks like I shall win a fortune and a beautiful bed-mate at the same time! Who’s that girl in the mauve muslin with the puffed sleeves?

Denny scanned the dancers for a moment, then laughed. That’s Lady Jersey, a happily married woman.

Too bad. What about that comely little thing in white? Surely she’s not married – she looks barely old enough to be out.

I’m sorry, said Denny, but I don’t know her.

I suppose you only know the ugly ducklings, said Wickham with disappointment.

Not at all, said Denny, then straining to get a better look at someone he had seen at the other side of the room, said, Wait a minute! There’s Lady Butler, with her daughter, Harriet. Lady Butler is an intimate of the mater’s, and I can get you an introduction as soon as they take their seats.

Wickham looked disappointed. Is that the best you can come up with, Denny? She’s rather short and sallow, and her face is more like a pug’s than anything else.

Come now, protested Denny, she’s not so bad!

I didn’t go to all this trouble...

Here Wickham looked down at his immaculately turned out person, and flicked his hand across his cravat, which had been over an hour in the tying.

...to make love to a pug.

"A pug with 50,000l a year," said Denny quietly.

Wickham was suddenly decisive. You’re right. She’s not so bad. Introduce me.

WHY IF IT IS NOT MR. Denny! exclaimed Lady Butler when she saw Denny walking towards her. Get up Harriet, she said under her breath to her daughter, and make your courtesy.

She did as she was bid, and Denny made his bow. Then he said, Lady Butler, Miss Butler, allow me to present my good friend, Mr. Wickham. The usual courtesies were exchanged, then Denny added, We were at Cambridge together, you know."

Ah yes, she replied, James – that’s Harriet’s brother – is there now. Perhaps you’ve met him?

Now that he thought of it, Wickham did recall a sickly-looking prig in the year below him, and remembered – gratefully – that they had once exchanged a few sharp words about a gambling debt. He bowed again. Yes, I have the honour to be a good friend of James. We often play cards together.

The truth was, of course, that after one game, in which Wickham had fleeced the young innocent mercilessly, he had never had anything to do with him again. Nevertheless, the supposed friendship did a great deal to recommend him to Lady Butler, and it was not long before she began to treat him like an old friend of the family.

At that moment, another waltz began, and Wickham was not slow to seize the opportunity. Do you waltz, Miss Butler? he began, knowing full well that she was longing to be asked to dance.

She nodded shyly.

Then may I request the pleasure of this dance? he said, holding out his arm.

Harriet looked up to him with a grateful gleam in her eyes, as she had never dared to hope for such a dashing partner, and had resigned herself to dancing – when she was asked to dance at all – with plump uncles, and well-meaning nephews.

They danced for a while without speaking, Harriet giving herself over to the pleasures of the dance, while Wickham concentrated on demonstrating his elegance. After a while, however, he deemed that it was time to begin the necessary script of courtship.

Have you been long in London, Miss Butler?

About a week, Sir, replied Harriet, somewhat nervously.

Have you been to the theatre?

Yes, Sir, I was at the play on Tuesday.

To the concert?

Yes, Sir, on Wednesday.

And are you altogether pleased with London?

Yes – I like it very well.

Wickham was finding this very hard work. Whatever he said seemed only to elicit the shortest of possible replies, and never to shew any sign of developing into an interesting conversation. A pug face he could live with, but if this was the limit of her conversational skills, he began to think that even 50,000l was not compensation enough. Nevertheless, he was playing for high stakes, and was determined not to give up too easily.

Please allow me to compliment you on your choice of gown.

Wickham was expecting another short reply, but he seemed to have stumbled by accident on a topic dear to the heart of his otherwise taciturn partner.

Thank you, Sir, I can see that you are a judge in these matters; which is not so with most men, who would hardly notice if one were nak... she blushed at the way she had run on so thoughtlessly, and then corrected herself: What I mean to say is that most men would hardly notice if one wore an old sack!

Wickham wanted to assure her that he would most certainly take notice if she were naked, despite the pug face, but he was a gentleman, and a gentleman should never take advantage of a lady’s slip of the tongue, especially when the lady in question has 50,000 a year to look forward to. He opened his mouth to say something, but she carried on. I was thinking of wearing my sprigged muslin robe with blue trimmings, and plain black shoes, but I decided on the white, with the pink trimmings...

As she rambled on, Wickham began to fear that she was empty-headed, and decided that a wife who was an empty-headed and garrulous fool would be more insupportable than one who was merely awkward and taciturn. Then she said something that caught his attention:

If you will allow me, Sir, I will can pay you a similar compliment, because without a doubt, you are the best-dressed man at Almack’s.

What, is Mr. Brummel not here? joked Wickham, to make light of the compliment, though at the same time feeling quite puffed up about it.

I think you understand fashion, Sir, continued the young lady.

I try; I always buy my own cravats, and am allowed to be an excellent judge; and my sister has often trusted me in the choice of a gown. I bought one for her the other day, and it was pronounced to be a prodigious bargain by every lady who saw it. I gave but five shillings a yard for it, and a true Indian muslin.

After a much more in the same vein, Wickham was beginning to weary of his partner’s conversation, but just then the dance ended, and they rejoined Lady Butler and Denny.

You looked very well together, said Denny with a wink.

Indeed you did, Sir, said Lady Butler enthusiastically, you must come and see us. Denny knows where. I will expect you tomorrow afternoon.

Denny winked again. The informal invitation, though seemingly so casually given, marked a big step forward in his acquaintance with the family, and though it could by no means to be taken as encouragement to pay court to Miss Butler, it was nevertheless the first step.

They danced again; and, when the assembly closed, parted, on the lady’s side at least, with a strong inclination for continuing the acquaintance. As for Wickham, he had more the feeling of a man who has finished a day’s work, when the work is dull, but the remuneration is good.

Well, said Denny, as they stood outside in the street. What did you make of Miss Butler?

She tried to bore me to death with talk of muslins and other such stuff – and the worse of it is, they only serve tea and lemonade, so I had to listen to her stone, cold sober!

Never mind, laughed Denny, "I’ll take you to my club and we’ll have a few bottles of claret.

What about a game of hazard?

No fear! said Denny. You have the Devil’s luck at hazard, and my patrimony is small enough as it is. I’ll settle for a quiet game of whist any day!

You know I don’t play whist, said Wickham with a wicked smile.

Chapter 3

Wickham put on his new dove-gray morning coat, also made by Weston, reflecting as he did so, that when Harriet had seen this, she had seen his entire wardrobe; that is to say, his entire fashionable wardrobe. His other clothes were good enough for day-to-day use, but would never pass muster among people of quality. He would have to order at least one more suit of clothes before his next social engagement. Still, he reflected, if he went along with Denny, Weston might give him credit this time. After all, a gentleman never pays his tailor – until he absolutely has to.

Such was his bait; as he had joked with Denny – dress and address, for he had little else of substance to offer, and as he was shewn into Lady Butler’s drawing room, he saw at once that it was having the desired effect, for he was the happy man towards whom every female eye was turned. Nevertheless, the visit was tedious in the extreme to Wickham, the main topics of conversation being last night’s ball, with Lady Butler, muslins again with Miss Butler, and the weather with Harriet’s maiden aunt, Miss Fletcher.

Denny looked on with admiration. His friend Wickham seemed to be a different person in this company: charming, polite and infinitely obliging. No topic of conversation seemed too trivial; indeed, he seemed find the commonest, dullest, most threadbare topics interesting; the result of which was that he made a very good impression on the ladies.

I hope we will see you at the theatre this Friday, Mr. Wickham, exclaimed Lady Butler as he was leaving. If you are there, do pray visit us in our box.

Another success, thought Wickham, as he bowed his leave, smiling all the way to the door. But as soon as the servant had closed the door behind him, his smile fell, and he expostulated, The Devil! If I hear any more of muslins! And that aunt of hers – what a tedious old windbag! I think she told me everything about the weather for this past sennight! I need an antidote to all that, I can tell you! Come on, Denny, You’re the man about town. Where can you take me that’s more – shall we say – spicy?

I know just the place. We’ll have dinner at my club, and go on there afterwards.

THE PLACE WAS FLEA-pit of a theatre in Whitechapel called the Little Theatre. The first thing that caught Wickham’s notice as he descended from the chaise was the sign advertising: "Benda’s Romeo and Juliet".

Dammy, scoffed Wickham. Fusty old stuff! If you’d have told me I was in for an evening of ‘To be or not to be’, I’d sooner have staid with the maiden aunt!

Denny laughed. "You’ll find something a sight sweeter than maiden aunts in here, and anyway, that’s Hamlet."

What is?

‘To be or not to be’. You should have said, ‘A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.’

I should? Wickham was mystified. He had interests other than literature when he was at Cambridge, where it could be said that he had read for a tripos in the three ‘G’s: gambling, guzzling and girls. "Well, Hamlet, or any other. It’s all dreadfully dull stuff; lots of speechifying and every body dead at the end."

Not in this version. This is the opera version by Benda who, by the way, gave it a happy ending.

We were greeted at the door by an obsequious manager, who bowed, rubbed his hands together, and said in an oily voice: We are always happy to welcome members of the quality to our ’umble palace of Parnassus. I will see that you get the best box right next to the stage. Josepha is playing Juliet tonight, and I’m sure you’ll agree that she is something.

Wickham found himself seated in shabby little private box, the